AN: Vampires of folklore and female vampires of Dracula (1897) were red-faced, not pale. I used Amy Yasbeck´s real age during the movie. This is also an universe unpolluted by "funny" torturing of mentally ill - after all, torture of already suffering people is not so side-splittingly funny than it used to be. Non-Betaed.

Transylvanian hayride was... fun. Bumpy, yes, and the straws were everywhere, but driving through the misty forest, lit by the full, silvery moon, was...

"Were-wolf!" the driver said to Mina and pointed with his whip. The fellow had pop eyes and the hunched back to rival with Quasimodo, but he had nothing tragic in him. Actually, he seemed to be full of mirth and puns.

"Werewolf?" Mina Seward asked, when the long, wailing howl echoed in the air. She tried to see through the barren trees, but the weather was like in London.

"Yes! Were-wolf! And there castle!"

Now the whip pointed forward, and like Aladdin had said the magic words, the wind opened the blanket of fog and Mina saw the impressive-looking stone monolith on the hill. She smiled.

"Brilliant!"

xXx

The castle was ruined, but in her new state Mina found it more interesting than depressing. She quickly found a bedroom which clearly had belonged to an upper class woman, and put her bags on the antique chair. She looked at the vanity mirror, but could only see the moonlit room and the dead flowers someone had forgotten on the vase. It reminded her to protect herself from heartbreak, made by Jonathan´s hawthorn stake.

Absence of reflection didn´t bother her. She knew well enough how she looked like - an English rose in full bloom (thirty three to be precise, with five years of them as Jonathan´s fiancée), her rusty hair waved freely, and her cheeks had rich red tint which Van Helsing had watched so suspiciously.

"Is that rrrouge, Miss Mina?"

That same day she had packed her bags and ran.