Sort of requested by my bud DSC, an alternative from season one where Magda successfully got the Count slain, and moved into the castle with Patrick. Unsurprisingly (it is me) there will be Vlad/Ingrid happenings (not immediately) but also others scattered about for fun.

No smut to begin with so T rated, but the rating will go up to M at some point, fair warning.

-YD-

It was all too good to be true! His mum was going to stay forever, marrying his father at last. He would have a family! Ignoring Chloe's doubts, Vlad smiled at Zoltan, watching as they said "I do." He did grimace a little at the implications of both parents disappearing off together, but it was all so good he didn't even care Ingrid had his tower room. He should find another room at some point. Renfield skulked about - he didn't like Magda. Which confused him, as she was no worse to him than the Count. Feeling a little guilty about the werewolf hair trick, Vlad sipped at his drink.

"AHHHH!" That was his father screaming, and it didn't sound good. "Dad? DAD!" There was no answer other than a high, cackling laugh that was definitely his mother. Robin and Chloe were hot on his heels as he ran upstairs towards the sound, staring at a bizarre, chilling scene. His mother was stood thanking Van Helsing, who was dressed very oddly. Between them and the children, there was a stake resting in a dust pile. "Tell me that's not... mum? Is that dad?"

Magda changed tack almost immediately, pretending to cower and calling out "save me from the slayer Vladdy!" Van Helsing held his hands up, but he was cackling too. "I slayed Count Dracula!" Grief and anger overwhelmed him, and Vlad gripped the stake in his hand from his fathers ashes, wrestling with who he should drive it through first. Magda beat him to it, sinking her fangs into Van Helsings throat. She drained him dry then and there, the corpse dropping heavily to the ground.

"We uh, we gotta go." Robin grabbed Chloe and the two ran, Vlad gaining just enough sense to bar his mother from following them. "What have you done?" His mother merely laughed, kicking the corpse with an elegantly toed boot. "Hand me my phone Vladdy, I have to make a phone call. Don't worry about that, Patrick will clean it up." Ingrid made it there then, taking in the scene aand choking on surprise. "Is that dad? Is he...?" Vlad nodded, stepping back from his mother and grabbing Ingrid's wrist. She tried to throw him off but he persisted, tugging her away from Magda and the death around her.

"Let go of me you little scab, how could you let her do that?" "Let her? I was down here with you when it happened!" Ingrid scoffed, but Vlad could see the tears building in her eyes. "You're the one who invited her in the first place! And made us get them back together! This is your fault!" He was rarely so candid, but Vlad was raw with grief and Ingrid was convenient. She hissed angrily, baring her teeth even if she didn't have her fangs yet, shoving at his shorter body.

"Sit on a stake you little runt, you should have stopped the slayer getting in here!"He thought about shoving back, but then a tear actually fell down Ingrid's cheek, streaked with black from her makeup and his anger evaporated. "Here." He held out the stake, then stripped off his cape and jacket. "What's this for?" "In case mum comes after you. I have to go tell Jonno. Not sure I'll come back in one piece." Ingrid looked at him incredulously, but took the pointed wood. Changing back into his jeans and jumper in the bathroom, Vlad sighed as he stepped outside.

Running down the hill from Stokely Castle, he tried to remember which way it was to Jonno's. He knew they could see the castle from the caravan, Van Helsing had raved about the excellent vantage point at school. "Wait." Turning around, Ingrid was stepping down to follow him. "If he doesn't believe you, you'll need me to hypnotise him." Nodding, they set off in search. Van Helsings car was at the bottom of the hill, and Vlad raised an eyebrow in confusion when Ingrid got in it. "Typical slayer." She held up a sheet of paper, flicking a light on inside the car to look closer at it.

"What is it?" "A map. From his hovel to our castle. All we have to do is follow it back. Come on breather lover, show you like the outdoors." Both of them were shaking with suppressed feelings about what was waiting back at the castle for them, but this was a welcome distraction. Scanning the scrawled lines and streets and twists and turns, he realised it wasn't actually that far - Van Helsing just thought it made him seem more interesting to be 'stealthy' and throw them off the trail. Ingrid actually turned on the car, driving it several streets away and wiping her fingerprints from the wheel and inside door. "You want it found outside the castle?" Vlad shook his head, hastening to copy her and admiring that Ingrid could even think straight right now.

Nerves were thick in his throat when they spotted the caravan. "What do we say?" "His idiot father fell trying to break in to the castle, and turned to a gooey mess he can't bury?" Jonno had to know that was happening, minus the gooey mess (lovely image Ingrid), so he agreed. Knocking the caravan door, the echo was loud and ominous in the still night air. Jonno opened it very slowly, face lighting up at the sight of Ingrid. "What are you doing here?" Vlad scuffed his shoes against the floor, the words a lump that wouldn't come out.

"Oh for bats sake." Ingrid shoved him aside, encouraging Jonno to look her in the eye. "He's dead and you won't even think of raising a fuss, because then they will want to know why he kept trying to break in to our home in the first place, and he killed our father." Snapping her fingers, Ingrid turned and left them both there. Vlad jumped in to the caravan, placing a half asleep Jonno onto what he thought was a bed and hunting around for the phone book. It was late, and he was happy to leave a message with the number under "Mina/mum" before he wiped the phone clean and ran outside.

Ingrid was waiting a street or two away, and the two walked slowly back to the castle, silent the entire trip. Apparently Patrick hadn't been far away, because Vlad could smell werewolf before they even got inside. The two didn't even seem to notice them, all cringeworthy sounds and words about their successful plan. "That slayer was a bit chewy, but a good meal all the same." Swallowing a wave of nausea at Patrick's words, Vlad exchanged a sort of sad shrug with Ingrid and they seperated for their rooms - hers in the tower, his now to be in the crypt. Except it wasn't, all his things moved.

Hurrying back up to the main room (and ignoring exactly where his mothers hands were) Vlad was about to ask where his stuff was. Ingrid saved him the trouble, appearing at the bottom of the staircase angrily. "Why is all his stuff in my room?" She recoiled at the same thing Vlad had, but their mother answered like she wasn't groping the werewolf openly in front of her twelve-and-fourteen-year-old children. "Patrick and I need the space" her voice was an icy drawl, uncaring "so you two can share. That tower room is big enough."

Shaking his head and needing to get changed for bed at the very least, Vlad hurried past Ingrid before he was permanently mentally scarred and clambered up the steps. Ingrid practically stalked him the whole way up, spitting angry. "You must be joking." Finding his things piled in a corner, Vlad located his pyjamas. "Look, I'll sleep on the floor. Please don't make me go down there again, while they are all... icky." His sister grimaced at the implication, glaring and sighing but eventually agreeing. "Fine. Just tonight. Then we fix this in the morning."

Rushing to brush his teeth, wash his face and fumble with the buttons on his sleep clothes, Vlad indicated the bathroom was free to Ingrid and pulled the quilt and pillow set Robin used to sleep over out. Not that he expected Robin or Chloe to ever come back again. Ingrid's bed-cot type thing was up here, but he wasn't dumb enough to push his luck and the bedding he had was sufficient. Not like sleep was high on his priorities right now, the full impact of what had happened that night hitting him all at once and tears rising in seconds.

Whether Ingrid was crying silently or perhaps not at all, she surprisingly didn't complain about Vlad all but sobbing into his pillow over the realisation his father was dead. Well, their father, but Vlad's brain didn't care for semantics as the loss rolled through him. Feeling like he had cried every tear from his body a couple of hours later, face a damp mess he scrubbed a sleeve over roughly, he tried to find his voice. "Ingrid?" bats, his voice was a croaky, garbled sound. "What?" There was some venom in her whisper, but it was so forced Vlad didn't pay any attention to it.

"I don't blame you. I was just in shock. I'm sorry." She didn't answer immediately, mulling his words over he supposed. "Shut up. Go to sleep." It was a softer murmur, the one she only used when her face took on that strange, softer edge few would believe her capable of. "Night Ingrid." Clutching at the tear-soaked pillow, Vlad tried to find some semblance of slumber.

Waking up with tear tracks dried on his stiff-feeling face, his brief flicker of hope that it had all been some awful nightmare was crushed when Vlad realised he was on the floor. Ingrid was already up, in the bathroom by the sounds of it. Mentally calculating - it wasn't a school day - Vlad dug out a jumper and jeans from the disorganised heap his mother had made out of his things, waiting for Ingrid to vacate the bathroom.

"You look like a bat through a meat grinder." That was a lovely morning greeting. "Cheers. Bathroom free?" Ingrid waved him off, makeup and hair products and more soaps and washes and conditioners than even his father owned. Had owned. Choking up again but still feeling all cried out, Vlad scrubbed the long night off his face, shoved a toothbrush around his mouth roughly and tugged on his clean(ish) clothes.

Lacing up his trainers awkwardly on the floor, he couldn't really put off trying to deal with the scheming, murdering witch that was their mother - if he wanted somewhere to sleep at night that was. Renfield was in the throne room, clad head to toe in swathes of black fabric and sniveling into an utterly filthy rag as he scrambled around, following Magda's orders as she lazed over the Dracula throne. The portraits of his father were stacked haphazardly by the fireplace, two already crackling merrily amongst the flames, paint curling inwards as it blackened.

Spotting one of all four of them, Vlad scooped it up and pocketed it. He could keep it and scratch his mothers eyes out in it. "Ah, morning Vladdy. Don't you think it looks much better now?" Every surface was covered in something black and red, or crimson and glittery. It looked like Ingrid's wardrobe and makeup box had gone to war in there, and neither had quite come out victorious.

"Lovely. Mum, you can't seriously expect me and Ingrid to share a room? We're teenagers, and boy and girl. It's just... inappropriate." His mother surveyed him, and Vlad could see in her eyes he had lost this before he even started. "You'll just have to live with it. The castle is mine now" she gestured grandly, arms out to indicate the expanse of space "and you should be grateful I'm letting you stay." "We're your children!" Magda smirked, ice and arrogance. "I know, but you can't expect special favours."

Vlad was saved having to explain what had been said to Ingrid, as she was stood in the shadows of the doorway, glaring at the side of the thrones curtains. Trying to apologise with his eyes, Ingrid vaguely inclined her head to say he had better follow her. Trotting after her up the stairs, Ingrid sighed. "I hate this, but I'm not prepared to sit here and fight her alone. You can keep your corner." That was probably generous for Ingrid - she had put her bed-cot there after all - so Vlad didn't argue, just started folding his clothes into piles so he could actually find his way through them.

Ingrid snapped her fingers, revealing she hadn't taken up every inch of space as his old cupboard was still empty. "It's too dusty for my dresses, all yours." Shaking his head, Vlad shoved his things in there and flopped down on his 'new' bed. Reality was still setting in - his father was gone, and this was his life now. His father was gone and his mother hadn't waited twelve hours to move her boyfriend into the castle, shoving her own children up in the topmost tower and redecorating. Record time for total destruction of his entire world.

"What are we going to do? If we ash her they'll send up to Granny and Grandpa, and even you don't want that." Ingrid didn't look up from painting her nails, but that certainly didn't mean she wasn't listening. "I'm sixteen in a little over a year" she blew across the polish to help it dry "so until then, we plot? Then you can flap off down to the basement again." He had no alternative plan, so Vlad shrugged and let his mind wander. His stomach growled, letting him remember they hadn't eaten since before the 'wedding'. Which was only a little over twelve hours ago... he was never going to get used to that.

"If there's one place mum doesn't go, it's the kitchen. You coming?" His sister didn't answer, but as he paced down the steps again she was behind him. Renfield was still piling case after case of bats only knew what his mother had brought along, and Vlad had a moments realisation, ducking behind the throne to find his fathers money bag - Magda hadn't found that yet. Pushing it under his hoody, pulling his tshirt and jumper down to ensure it was hidden, he moved to the kitchen and picked up his usual cornflakes box. His father would never complain at him for these again... Vlad would have given anything for the man to be leering over him, snapping his fingers to turn them into maggots again.

Ingrid flicked cereal at him the entire time, remarkably stable when Vlad wasn't sure he wouldn't just fall into a howling pit of grief at any moment. Renfield scurried into the kitchen, looking surprised to find the two there. "Mistress Magda wondered where you two had got off to." "Tell her to sit on a stake." Vlad spat back, knowing the servant wouldn't dare reiterate such a thing but a little anger leeching out into his words made him feel the tiniest bit better.

He doubted Renfield would last that long in their new 'home' situation, as werewolves were less fussy about what they ate and Patrick was large, bulky. Though Renfield knew how to access most of the money the Count had lived off, he had his uses. Only Vlad could access some of it, and not until he was sixteen himself - even married, Magda couldn't change his intended inheritance. Plus, as the only living daughter of Krone and Atilla Westenra, Patrick from a fairly well off werewolf family (by furball standards) the couple were ok for money. Magda just wanted the castle, and the merit of 'getting one over' on their father.

Feeling his fathers money bag secure under his clothes, and done pushing cornflakes into his roiling stomach, Vlad dashed back up to the tower room. "What was that about breather boy?" Vlad held up the bag, grinning in spite of himself at the minute success. "Don't worry, we can split it." Ingrid quirked an eyebrow, as though Vlad would have gotten away with less. Counting and separating it, he reclined back into his bed and stared up at the ceiling, a strange view without his bed canopy there now.

Desperate for a distraction, he dragged himself up again and got started on his homework. They could hardly go missing from school so soon after starting. Ingrid was lucky - people at school adored her, worshipped her. Vlad was just the new boy with the weird best friend. Though Robin had bolted and he didn't really expect him to be back. Nor would he want Robin back here - his mother might eat him.

Tossing his completed and probably incorrect maths aside, he wasn't really sure what to do with himself. Which left him with nothing to do but think, which was not a good thing as all he could remember was his mother cackling over his fathers dust, Van Helsing crowing proudly about slaying him before falling to the ground dead. Jonno was without his father too, though his guilt on that matter was limited since Van Helsing had staked his father. Still, Vlad banked on Jonno's mother being a better option than this.

Ingrid seemed content to first finish her nails, then admire her own face in the mirror completely silently, aside from an occasional hmm or approving sound about her own lipstick, leaving Vlad to grieve quietly in the corner by himself. Tears rose, unbidden yet again, so he curled on his side in a vain hope of hiding that he was crying again - he didn't need Ingrid deciding he was pathetic and not worth 'allying' with. Then he really would be up blood river surrounded by stakes and garlic.

A neat black square, edged with red stitching, landed next to his face. Ingrid was offering him a handkerchief. Wonders would never cease it seemed. Wiping his face down, Vlad sat back up. "I'm gonna head out, get pizza. Want to come?" Ingrid liked pizza, but usually adamantly refused to admit to enjoying breather food most of the time.

"Only because I refuse to cook. Or eat something Renfield is currently crying in to." Grimacing, Vlad nodded and stood, waiting for Ingrid to finish fastening her boots whilst trying not to ruin her fresh nail polish. Successful a few moments later, their mother and Patrick were blissfully absent from the throne room as they cut through, strolling down the hill and Vlad had a crushing sense of dejavu.

Shaking it off under the spring sunshine that would prevent Magda following them, Ingrid appeared disinterested even as they ordered their food. Several men and teen boys in the food store openly ogled her, unsettling him slightly as he chewed on the too-hot cheese, taking comfort in his favourite food.

A little bloated but gulping down his cola drink anyway as they walked back up, Vlad turned to Ingrid. "So what is the plan?" Staring up at the castle, he turned in time to see a smirk curl over her mouth. "Evil plotting. Obviously."

-YD-

I hate this beginning chapter. But I had to set the scene as it were, so if you don't think it's my worst piece of writing ever, thank you! I'm going to do some work on Lazarus Rising and Chosen Two before I update this again, but I'm excited with my plans for this story.