Chapter 1: Alfred regrets having left Herbert.

Von Krolock was waiting for him when he arrived, in the snow, leaning against the great doors wrapped up in his cape. "Well, well, Alfred," he said with a small smile that Alfred couldn't quite interpret. He straightened to his full height and gave a bow. "How delightful to see you – and so unexpected too, after that hasty departure of yours. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Alfred swallowed. "Don't t-t-torture me," he said through chattering teeth. He was too cold and miserable to be polite. "You know damn well what happened. To Sarah."

Von Krolock nodded. "I would have been shocked if it did not. And I notice you yourself seem to have- oh! Bless you."

Once he had started sneezing Alfred didn't seem able to stop. "C-c-can I come in?" he managed at last. "Please. It's so -choo- cold and I've b-b-been walking and- choo!- running and- ah…-" He covered his mouth.

"Poor Alfred. Certainly. I welcome the company." He touched the door softly and it creaked open. He ushered Alfred inside and led him to a warm parlor. "Sit," he invited.

Alfred peeled the soaking remains of the vampire's moldy coat off himself and sank into a chair gratefully. He had hoped, hoped, that the count's love of playing host would win out over the annoyance he must be feeling that Alfred had run off with his girl. Apparently his prayers had been answered.

"Of course you are welcome here," von Krolock said, as if he'd read Alfred's mind. "Now, tell me: what happened?"

Alfred shot him a look that was almost a glare. "You know what happened. Sarah became one of you, and she… well, look! She attacked me! Why? I would have given her whatever she wanted. She didn't need to do that."

Von Krolock handed him a handkerchief for his runny nose, and sat down opposite him. "Alfred, it is many years before a vampire can learn to govern the thirst at all… and even then, there are moments of weakness. There will always be."

"She didn't even try."

The count shrugged. "Blood freely offered is a positive delight, but also, the urge to tear and kill sometimes overwhelms us," he explained coolly. "You should forgive Sarah for what she's done; it was not a deliberate choice on her part." He frowned. "Is that why you left her?"

"No." Alfred looked down at his lap. "I didn't leave her. She left me. She said… oh, what does it matter!" He set his jaw and refused to cry. "You knew she wouldn't stay with me. Everybody knew we had no future together – except me. I thought she would come around. I mean, I know she liked me and I- ach-" He held his breath but it was no good; the sneeze happened anyway, a big huge racking one, and then he hated himself for being so all-around pathetic. He ordered himself to sit up, stop whining, and look healthy.

"Bless you. I am sorry for you," von Krolock murmured, and it didn't sound like he was mocking. "People are thoughtless and cruel on the whole, and Sarah is no exception." He waited for Alfred to compose himself before asking, gently: "Why did you return here to me?"

Alfred felt his cheeks flame. "It wasn't-…" ... to you. He swallowed and tried to think of a different reason. "Because I don't know where else to go," he answered at last. It was true, anyway. "The professor's gone, and if he wasn't he'd probably kill me."

"Stake you," the count corrected. "Kill is not the right word for what is done to us."

Alfred shrugged. "Stake me, then. He'd stake me. And I didn't know where else to go – what am I going to do, go home to Königsberg? I didn't know. So I came here." After a moment passed in silence he decided that this would be an acceptable time to ask: "Where's Herbert?"

"Herbert?" the count said sharply. "Why?"

"Because... I mean, he was nice to me. I mean…" Oh, this was embarrassing. And it wasn't even the worst part! Imagine when the time came to start groveling in front of Herbert himself. This, at least, should be good practice apologizing. "I think maybe I made a mistake about Herbert," Alfred explained at last. "I ran away from him to chase after somebody who didn't even want me, and now I think… I mean, I'd like to talk to him. That's all."

"Mm." Von Krolock was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"What?"

"You've missed your opportunity with Herbert," the count said finally. "Herbert is no longer here."

"What? Where is he?"

"Where? His body is ash in the courtyard, and his soul is…" Von Krolock shrugged. "Wherever our souls go after this world. Certainly not heaven, though I hope it is nowhere too unpleasant – Herbert was a good boy."

"What?" Alfred shook his head. "No. No, wait a second. He's dead? Herbert is dead?"

"I told you that kill and die are not appropriate words for us. But yes, Herbert is gone."

"What – how? No! He can't. What happened?" Alfred couldn't process it. The only thing that had kept him going this cold lonely journey was the knowledge that there was somebody waiting for him, waiting to cuddle him and fuss over him and teach him all the naughty things that nice boys didn't know. The idea that that dream was over, that he had nobody, was just too depressing to accept.

"He was distraught, Alfred." Von Krolock's voice had gone cold. "He cared for you, and you wouldn't give him the time of day."

Alfred's jaw dropped. "What? Me?"

"Don't you remember? You turned a cross on him – on all of us – the very night he was hoping to win you over." The count shook his head. "He took it very hard. As soon as the burns healed enough for him to move around again, he dressed in his best, waited for high noon, and walked out into the sunlight." There was still no hint of emotion in his voice. "I could only watch – I didn't dare go after him – as he caught fire, and burned to ash."

Alfred tried to say something but there were no words. His eyes stung and then he felt tears sliding over his skin, searing hot after the cold of the outdoors. But suddenly the cold meant nothing, the pins and needles in his frozen feet were a distant and unimportant pain as he made himself think about what the count was saying. He felt sick. Burned to ash….

"It didn't look like a very peaceful way to go. He was… screaming…" Now, at last, the pitiless monotone was broken and von Krolock had to rise and turn away. "As the flames-… oh-… please excuse me." He pulled another handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his face with.

"Oh god I had no idea-…" Alfred gasped. "I would never- … God I would never have-…"

Von Krolock waved at him over his shoulder. "I know. Of course you didn't mean for something so awful to happen. There is no blame here – I know you didn't realize what your cruelty would do."

Alfred tried to take a deep breath, but it was too late; he was full-on crying now. "I would never ever have meant to-… I just wanted… oh God..."

"Hearts get broken every day," the count continued. "Herbert's was just too tender… fragile even. It is not your fault. Not your fault he fell in love with you, and not your fault that rejection hurt him so much." He turned back around at last and he was weeping too – not ragged sobs like Alfred, certainly, but taking slow controlled breaths while tears made their way down his cheeks. "So now you see why I welcome company, Alfred," he said with a sad little smile. "Herbert was my son, he was all I had, and now I am alone."

Alfred tried to swallow down the lump in his throat so that he could speak. But what was there to say? That he was sorry? As if that could help! Vampire or not Herbert had been more alive than anyone Alfred knew, fluttery and smiling and bursting with enthusiasm… and now he was gone. Done, gone, over, no more. Ash. "I- I-…" he stammered, and then tried again to swallow.

He was still trying when the parlor door flew open.

Von Krolock whirled on the intruder with a hiss. "Don't you knock?" he demanded, his voice suddenly harsh and annoyed and not broken-sounding at all.

"Knock why?" said Herbert, peeking over his shoulder. "Oh! Alfred? What's Alfred doing here?"

Herbert. Alfred backed up against a wall, panting so hard he couldn't hear himself. "H- egh-…"

"What's the matter with him?" Herbert asked. "He looks terrified."

Von Krolock shrugged and cleared his throat. "I have no idea. He's a strange little boy, Herbert." Then he turned and caught Alfred's eye, and chuckled.

Alfred realized then what had happened – Herbert was fine and the count was just playing a nasty joke on him. Nasty didn't even begin to describe it. But Herbert was fine. He was fine.

"AAAAAAA!" He shouted at the top of his lungs and then sprinted across the room to physically throw himself at von Krolock and rip him to pieces. How could he, how could he, how could he!

Von Krolock only laughed harder and caught Alfred up in his cape to contain the wild flailing. "All right, all right, hush," he was saying, and then Alfred realized that he was still screaming how could you right into his face.

"Enough, Alfred, enough," the count pleaded through his laughter. He eventually held Alfred with one arm and covered up Alfred's mouth with the other – which did not stop Alfred's attempts to holler out-of-control nonsense, but at least helped minimize the volume. "Good heavens. Will you please calm down?"

Alfred could hear Herbert's voice behind him asking again what was going on, and then he started to struggle with more purpose. "Let go of me, let go!" he screamed into von Krolock's hand, biting and kicking. When he was finally released he turned around and threw himself at Herbert instead, hugging him and sobbing into his chest.

"Oh – hello!" Herbert said brightly, and hugged him back. "It's wonderful to see you too, darling, really." He looked up over Alfred's head. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing. Just teasing. I wanted to know whether he's learned to appreciate you properly," the count said. "Apparently he has."

"I'll say." Herbert murmured shh and rubbed his back.

"And I must confess I also wanted to punish him for spoiling our wonderful ball. That did make me quite angry."

Alfred could hear him but couldn't care. His head was still spinning and he thought it might be a good idea if he never let go of Herbert again. Just in case.

Then von Krolock's hand was on Alfred's head, running gently through his hair. "But I think that now we are even. Alfred, you may stay in the castle as long as you like. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen. I'll be in the library."

Herbert called goodnight papa after him, but Alfred thought he would prefer never to speak to him again.

TBC?

Unlike the handful of short stories that have been appearing from me over the last few weeks, this one might get continued. (What happens next would be: Sarah regrets having left Alfred, and comes to try and steal him back.) Let me know what you think!