Creeeeeak...

Alfred woke with a start, reluctantly opened one eye, and yawned. Damn – still light, and he was sure he had just got the hang of this night-bird business. It was late evening judging by the poor quality of the suns rays just peaking through the window. The still heavy snow was glistening as it fell in the dying light, highlighted spectacularly by his new vampiric senses.
Hmmm.
It was creating a polka dot pattern on the bed covers. He quickly yanked his bare arms back under the sheets - the last thing he needed was to become covered in a multi-coloured rainbow of bruises. The Count's son, Herbert, was attracted to bright colours, and, imagining the effeminate vampire's glee at a rainbow coloured Alfred... well, he wasn't all that keen on becoming a fashion accessory, or an Alfred apron. Trying to rid himself of the disturbing thought of being worn by the aforementioned insufferable vampire, he went back to contemplating his current problem.
Evening.
Oh well, it could be worse he supposed. At least he wasn't too far off of his desired target: rise at eight, and bed-yes, bed, by half six at the latest. A good hour or so's safety from the blinding perils of staying up too late. Or early. He wasn't really too sure anymore, but what did it matter? He had all of eternity to work it out. He wearily tried to calm his befuddled nerves, and, balefully eyeing the wretched beams, pulled the covers back over his head. It was entirely his own fault after all. There was no one else to blame. Had Count Von Krolock most kindly offered him shelter? Yes. Although, Alfred now suspected that this had a lot more to do with Herbert quietly threatening to "redecorate" the castle (for the upcoming Christmas festivities) unless "his" dear Alfred was returned to him, then any kindness the Count felt towards him.
After all, there had been that rather nasty business with the cross, hadn't there? Sure, when you were a human trying to escape an entire colony of really pissed off vampires, because you had stolen...er, rescued... their dinner, then a makeshift cross was a godsend. However, if you were a new (and very confused) vampire, bitten and abandoned by the girl whom you had been a bit late with rescuing, well. At that point it didn't really help if the closest form of help had been baying for your blood mere hours earlier. Especially if you had kinda-sort of-"in your own defense"-provoked them. In that case, your chances of being given shelter were not good.
It really was lucky that Herbert was not above blackmail, of the festive and very sparkly kind. The Count had immediately complied and allowed him to stay - but only after turning a delicate shade of green at the idea of...glitter.
So, here he was.
In a bed.
Why oh why did he still cling to those few shreds of humanity within him? The Count had grudgingly offered to have a coffin made for him- and Herbert had gleefully offered to share, but he had declined both options of course, much to the Count's surprise - and Herbert's obvious dismay.
Stupid, Stupid Stupid. And also dangerous. Admittedly, the idea of sleeping in a coffin (and especially with Herbert) was not immediately appealing. However, after a few months of waking to accidental third degree burns, the safety of a nice, dark coffin, far from any windows; well, let's just say it wasn't so repulsive any more. Surely even sharing with the dreaded Herbert must be better then waking up to find your nose crumbling in a grey pool onto your face? He shuddered, remembering how pleased Herbert had been at the opportunity to play nurse. Sympathetic, sure, but still, Alfred couldn't quite see how the full body examination he was forced to undergo had anything to do with a little ashen-nosedness. On second thoughts, he was still glad that he had turned Herbert down on that particular offer.
Sighing, he turned over and buried into the pillow as far as he could go. That was one of the few perks about being technically dead; you lost all need for oxygen while still retaining the ability to shout, scream, or sigh quite capably. You just didn't have to anymore.
Getting used to it was the difficult thing. Accustoming yourself to all of the strange new abilities that came with being dead. For example, he was sure he could never have found a coffin bearable, let alone desirable, while living? Well, perhaps if Sarah was with him, to hold him, tell him how everything was fine, the pure innocence of her eyes making him believe it too... But that Sarah, his Sarah, was gone. Snuffed out like the flame of hope still barely burning within him. A painful thought tugged irritatingly at his subconscious; was she ever his to begin with? Sure, there had been that wonderful moment of hope in the bathroom of the inn, where he had thought she was offering... Well, something entirely different than what then transpired: a determined shove out the door, and the loss of his bath. And again, when he had met her in the castle's bathroom, she hadn't seemed all that pleased to see him. Really, the closest he had ever been to her was, was- of course! The Count's midnight ball.
She had looked so beautiful in that shimmering red ball gown, although the symbolism of the colour had sent a faint shudder down his spine. So flush and full of life compared to the animate corpses dancing around her. She had been bitten, yes, but he was so sure that he could save her. The professor had promised him she would be fine: "A good blood transfusion, and she'll be as fresh as a daisy ". That one dance they had shared... In that moment his life was complete. But then, it had all gone wrong. She didn't want to escape, to be saved. She was perfectly content to fall.
Huh.
Even when he had been rescuing her, risking his own life to save hers', even then she had struggled, and resisted. They had succeeded though, and together with the professor had triumphantly made their way back through the forest.
That triumph had been short lived.
If only they had been quicker. If only he had been braver. But they had come too late. The change had already begun within her, an unavoidable downwards spiral to the pits of hell. The end was simple: she had bitten him. The pain had been indescribable, but even worse was the sense of betrayal. To feel his whole world falling down around him. To feel, truly understand, that terrible hunger, the unbearable loss.
Of course, he still loved her, for that was an unchangeable truth ingrained deep in his soul. Things were different now. And looking back, it was hard to see any proof of her feelings for him, just her almost using him to be free. But who could blame her? For such a beautiful soul was never designed to be locked away as she was. She would naturally desire release, ever grasping up towards the light. Such a pity she chose darkness instead. Now, she was gone. She had her freedom, and needed no one. The last message they had received at Castle Krolock was that she-

!THUDBANGCRASHWALLOPKERPLUNK!

"Owowowwwieowhatthehow?
…ow?
Unwillingly dragged out of his train of thought, Alfred had no choice but to grudgingly listen.
It may not have been the usual honeyed tones in which that voice usually addressed him, but it was still all too recognisable. Unable to resist, Alfred slowly lifted the covers slightly, to look at the…intruder.
Oh no.
Repeat.
OH, NO.
There, in the middle of the floor, covered in glitter and wearing a rather bedraggled Santa hat, was what looked to be a strange combination of a vampire, crossed with a porcupine, perhaps a hedgehog, crossed with a holly bush. Perhaps this needed more explanation. There, sat sulkily (and very sorely, by the looks of things) was Herbert Von Krolock, in all his glittery, pouty, and…spiky glory? Scattered on the floor next to him were several huge bags, one of which held an abundance of tinsel, while the other one, which was almost empty, held mistletoe. The petulant vampire was covered with sprigs of holly, all firmly embedded, and seemingly sprouting from his pale skin, which was still flowing in a seemingly never ending wave from an another upended sack not too far from the fallen vampire. Quite literally fallen it seems, as said vampire was rubbing his rear end and glaring up at the ceiling with a rather sulky and confused look on his face, muttering to himself:
"Well, that went well. Not. Maybe just taking the mistletoe up would have been a better idea, just for the first trip? Father did warn me that total concentration was needed to trick gravity… hmm, maybe a ladder would have worked better."
Here he glared at the holly, which visibly wilted under his gaze, as he began plucking bits out.
"How was I supposed to concentrate when you kept pricking me, hmmm? Its not easy you know, turning everything upside down. Walking on walls is definitely easier; I shall have to practise with ceilings. Hmmm, that will just have to do I suppose, there's certainly enough mistletoe up there, there's no way I'm trying that again, and I still have to put up the Christmas tree in the main hall…"
He trailed off, and continued picking off the holly, seemingly unconscious of the weak beam of light slowly getting closer and closer, as the sun set.
Relieved that the other vampire had not yet noticed he was awake, and sensing an opportunity to find out exactly what had been done to his room, Alfred took the chance to glance around, careful to keep his tousled head well beneath the covers.
Oh dear God.
Alfred winced as he thought it; even the word alone was enough to cause a rhythmic pounding in his head, which he knew would soon escalate into a full-blown migraine.
But still…this couldn't be happening, this couldn't- he couldn't-
Any pity he had felt for Herbert was quickly vanishing, as he gazed up at the lofty ceiling. What little of it he could see that is. It was absolutely covered in mistletoe, with hardly a square inch of the original stone showing. Sprinkled here and there were bits of holly, and, against his better judgement Alfred found himself agreeing with the decorator: the holly did brighten up the place. Wait, what was he thinking- this was so wrong- and against the bargain- he was sure to get kicked out for this!
Right. That was it. Carefully assembling his face into a nonchalant sneer, he whispered, knowing that the other would hear him.
"Well well well. You always did know how to make an entrance. Thought you'd …drop in, did you? Hmmmm?

…

Gaalnagjdofaaahjvlhfejxah!"

The first thing he noticed was that Herbert's feet were freezing. Second, that this vampire, this really, flamboyant, loud, NOTICE ME NOW vampire, was awfully good at creeping, at speed. As in, he was good at being a creepy thing, that which creepeth upon the earth. Quietly.
"Sorry Cher. I just could not resist!"
"… The decorations, or me?"
"Both."
"Ok. Deep breaths, count to ten."
Right, that didn't work, errm.
"Y'know, Herbert, regardless of how angry, freaked out, and down right disturbed I am right now I will try to stay calm… now, what are you doing in my bed?"
A muffled (but much calmer) voice came from somewhere below the covers.
"When were you planning on telling me about that deadly beam of light heading my way? Not very nice, eh Cheri?"
Outraged, Alfred spluttered:
"Oh don't you DARE make out this is my fault, I-"
"As much as I love your angry voice, I am sorry, but I must interrupt you. You are committing a heinous crime!"
"What?"
"The most terrible crime of all Cher- that of sheet stealing, and duvet hogging!"
"Oh COME ON!"
Suddenly Herbert's head appeared from beneath the covers, an impish grin on his face.
"There were two in the bed, and the little one said-"
"Shut up. Now."