Author's Note: So I'm relatively new to meaning instead of just reading fanfiction I've finally decided to try my hand at writing. This is something that has recently popped into my head. I have a relatively large obsession with Young Dracula at this point, and am still in the process of learning (or re-learning) characters based off of season three. So as much as I'm trying to write 'in character' please forgive me if they become 'OOC' instead.
Also, as I'm still sketching out events, I'm open to any ideas you have in regards to the story. Last but not least, don't forget to review—enjoy!
Drink My Soul
Prologue
The half moon peaked from between two wispy grey clouds illuminating what had been, one moment ago, pitch black. Standing alone in the British countryside at a T-road junction Vladimir Dracula sniffed the air in haste, trying desperately to find the one thing he'd bonded to amongst his self designated seclusion at Garside Grange.
"Erin!" he bellowed into the air, "I won't hurt you!"
He fell silent as his voice faded into the night. A hushed quiet met his ears. Not a single rustle of a bush, or the crunch of a twig under a heavier weight. He couldn't smell a single thing—but Vlad knew for certain, knew with every ounce of his being, that Erin had run this way. She had to be using that stasis spray— thing, masking her scent and hiding her heartbeat. Anger coloured his pale cheeks. If it hadn't been for her none of this would have happened. And of course he still would have been oblivious to the fact that Erin was a breather. And Erin would have still been at his home. Close enough for him to touch, and talk to. Perhaps even for more—if he'd managed to muster the courage.
But all chances of that happening were blown.
"I will find you Erin," he vowed softly to the sign posts, "I promise."
With that, he flittered back to the home which he once again hated.
Back to her.
The two clouds had seemingly melded into the one and shifted to block out the light of the moon. Beneath, on the earth—all light was swallowed up, and at the T-junction, lying as still as possible in the brush alongside the road was Erin.
"I'm sorry Vlad," came the soft petrified whisper.