A/N: What if Dracula were to fall for once? Vampires probably experience stress, too, for all we know.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hotel Transylvania, and this is a little story I'm putting together because I think Dennis and Drac are adorable together.
_._
Even those who loved their jobs sometimes wanted to strangle something at times. Or, perhaps even bash their head repeatedly against the wall.
For all of the love and all of the passion flung into work, there definitely was an awful amount of vexation and exhaustion mixed in as well.
And when it came to running a hotel? Not to mention one as famed as Hotel Transylvania?
On a normal week, the tasks and challenges that came with such a responsibility were larger than Big Foot.
Suffice to say, this week had not been normal.
There'd been another problem with the plumbing, there seemed to be some sort of poltergeist now creating chaos in bingo room, a cauldron had exploded in the lobby of all places, one of the suits of armor wanted to challenge everyone who walked past to a duel, a fire had started in one of the corridors - don't even ask how that started - all in the course of 24 hours. Not to mention Denisovich had needed looking after - he had nightmares all through the night - and this was the first time in months that Mavis had trusted her father enough to leave him alone with the boy again. Furthermore, all of this week for him has been in fact its own kind of nightmare. Everything that could have gone went wrong, and he had hardly witnessed such a draining time since -
Now, now, thinking about that is only going to make this all worse.
All in all, let's just say that Drac was nearing the end of his patience for the day. Or, rather, he was near the end of his stamina - his patience had already flown the coop about two days ago.
It just wasn't quite the same after centuries of management. Personally, you'd think the skills and habits necessary to maintain the job would have been cemented by this point.
Apparently, that wasn't going to be the case.
But, anyway, speaking of habits, why wasn't his training kicking in by now?
After all, he was kind of plummeting to the ground having started from a few thousand feet above. Shouldn't his ingrained abilities - with the help of adrenaline - be kicking into his wings by now, giving him just enough strength to make it back to the hotel?
… Once again, that apparently wasn't going to be the case. It seems even vampires have a limit for what they can do, and Count Dracula had finally found his.
Now, why was the Count even in this predicament in the first place? Why was he currently falling through the sky, shrieking as much as a worn-out bat could?
It had all been in the name of finally giving himself a break for once.
Go figure that's the moment everything decided to really fall apart.
See, Drac had found himself in need of a break. Just a few minutes of fresh air instead of the wonderful stench that always seemed to trail after his beloved customers. One moment led to another and in only a few minutes the vampire had been able to sneak out into the dark and cloudy sky. It always was breathtaking slipping out into such a night, allowing the wind to guide him through the air, feeling a hint of moisture from the impending storms.
Unfortunately, that's when when the wind turned against him, when it started to howl and slap his maneuverability away. That's when he slipped out of control - now past the point of desperately flapping his wings for any hint of relief. That's when it became more than just difficult to fly, and that's when he found himself unable to do anything other than let the wind control him.
Ah, yes, "Count Control-Freak" was now forced to let the wind boss him around. Had the situation not been as serious, he would have glowered at anyone who dared to make that joke. As it happens, he could wearily sigh before even that was stolen by the sharp and stinging breeze.
The worst part was, he couldn't even transform let alone properly shout for help. The last forty-eight hours had taken that kind of energy out of him. And if it hadn't, the wind would've by this point.
Furthermore, as far as he knew no one knew that he had left. He had quite literally snuck out of the hotel, intent on getting a breather for only just a few minutes.
It just his luck that his plan didn't quite come to life quite in the fashion he had imagined. But, after all, he was Dracula - not Dr. Frankenstein. And, therefore, this wasn't really his fault.
Now, on the other hand, falling to his death would most definitely be his fault.
By this point, his eyes were shut by the wind and he could only blindly hold on to nothing. He could clutch at wisps of the moisture, or even the thin air itself. But there was to be no help in his graceless fall from the sky.
SMACK!
His mind tried to supply some form of an answer as to what he had slammed into, but no to avail: everything suddenly felt both excruciating and numbing alright.
It was just as well: he had finally collided with something hard enough to send him careening towards a form of safety commonly referred to as the ground.
And, as the vampire finally began to accept his fate - hopefully it would just be of unconsciousness - the world tauntingly began to fade away. Exhaustion sashayed around the bat and laughingly pinned him to the ground. Weariness drained him of his resolve to move.
But, not before one last thought jolted to mind:
"Wait," The count groaned to himself as the world started to spin and the pain began to blend into the rain. "Who is taking care of Denisovich?"
He shakily tried to get off from the soothing cold ground.
He could only collapse into a very undignified slump.
_._
It was surprising how little the world seemed to think Dennis - or Denisovich, as his dear Papa Drac affectionately called him - observed.
True, he was now a six year old. And six year old boys were said to normally only pay attention to roughhousing, exploring everything and anything in their path, and getting into delightful mischief of all kinds. And, it also was normally said that when it came to things that involved adults, that sort of stuff tended to escape their attention.
But, six year old boys could also pay close attention when one of their favorite monsters sneezes seven times in an hour. Six year boys could also pick up on the fact that someone looks unnaturally paler than even normal, or when that someone looks a bit under the weather.
And, finally, six year old boys could be left to their own devices and still catch a peculiar, horrifying sight of a beloved bat plummeting helplessly through a stormy, merciless sky…
_._
A/N: Every once in a while, I just have to write a sick-fic or hurt/comfort fic. This time, I was so enamored with these movies that it just had to be in the Hotel Transylvania universe.
Till next time!