*I just re-read a story by hats and clogs that mentioned Quincy, and this arrived. I hope to finish it, but, well, I also hope to catch up on two stories I'm trying to beta and a friend's book (Eyes of Osiris)! and a whole pile of awesome reviews I need to respond to. That, to me, takes precedence. But I do hope you enjoy this!*

Abraham was entirely unsure what to make of this. It went against everything he knew about vampires, but...there it was, nevertheless.

The two vampires were curled up, the larger wrapped almost completely around the only-slightly-smaller one, clearly protective even in the depths of sleep. The thick blankets draped over them revealed only a sliver of Dracula's face, but the eyelashes fell across the beast's cheek as it slept. The only sign that there was a second vampire there, and not some oddly-shaped package hidden under that blanket, was the touseled hair peeking from the shadows under Dracula's chin.

They'd been amazingly quiet. Quincy was still in a state of shock over his change, amenable and confused and vague, easy enough to shackle to the sides of the sturdy wagon. Dracula should have been far more of a handful, but...he'd been nearly as compliant as Quincy. Badly weakened from the stakes, surrounded by angry humans with silver bullets, crucifixes, and more stakes, the creature had clearly chosen discretion and obedience as the wisest choice, for now. Unless and until he perceived some threat towards Quincy... Mina and Johnathan had been quietly discussing the situation during the day, everyone having assumed that vampires both slept. Johnathan had wondered if it might not be best to "release" Quincy in an attempt to save the man's soul.

Dracula's jaws had snapped shut bare inches from his neck, and had Mina not thrust a crucifix in front of the vampire, Abraham had little doubt that Dracula would have succeeded. Until Johnathan had taken a horse and ridden out ahead of them, flaming red eyes had tracked his every move, promising death. With the disappearance of Johnathan up the narrow and rutted trail, Dracula had finally rejoined his offspring, curling quietly under the blankets that protected them from the weak winter sun.

Offspring. And how had THAT happened? Well, they knew HOW it had happened...but...Quincy was by no means virginal, not after all the traveling and the tales Arthur had shared of his escapades. Nor was he a female. Yet, there he was, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, clearly under the watchful eyes of the elder vampire.

xx xx xx

It had been quite a battle, destroying Dracula. During the battle, Quincy had been shot by one of the Romani. Ignored briefly while the others battled to stake the vampire, kill him before he could awaken, Quincy had been given the precious time needed to not only die, but begin to slip into Undeath without anyone's notice.

Dracula had only had the one chance at the man, far back in England, but the one chance had been enough. Quincy had certainly shot at the great bat that he saw outside...but not before that great bat had taken a moment to mesmerize him and take a taste of his blood. Take it, and apparently give the man a taste of his own. Quincy's memory of the event had returned with his change, and though groggy and confused, he'd been able to tell them of the blood he had taken. And it had had all those weeks to work its way through Quincy's system, preparing him.

When the blanket containing the man's dead body had begun to stir that night, his confused cries alerting them, they'd at first thought it a miracle until the teeth had flashed at them as he spoke. No human had canines that sharp, that long...and no human could heal a bullet wound to invisibility in less than half a day. Quincy had died, replaced by some sort of monster, and Abraham himself had raised a gun to the confused and bewildered new vampire to destroy it.

The ripping snarl from the dark around their campfire stopped him, causing him and the others to turn from Quincy and look for the greater threat that now hunted them. A moment of silence, and Abraham had turned back to Quincy...to find Dracula holding him protectively. A very battered, thin, bloody, and exhausted Dracula, but glaring at him with a clear determination to protect the American he held close to his side.

Tired and exhausted, but coherent and logical. Dracula could barely stand, it had taken almost all he had to distract them and reach his child, and fighting them was out of the question. Yet he'd been desperate to protect his child, bargaining with them. They could have fought him down, destroyed him, destroyed Quincy...but he made it plain that he intended to take at least one of them with him if they did so. And so instead they chained the vampires with makeshift restraints cobbled together from extra harness and what they could scrounge from the Romani wagon. Quincy had been too tired and disoriented to protest, and as long as they treated his child gently, Dracula offered no resistance.

Two vampires. Two, riding in chains that could never hold either if they began to recover, only a few feet from him as they rolled and jounced down the road back toward civilzation. Dracula's coffin sat behind him, but Dracula was barred from it...the beast would be given no chance to recover. How it had pulled itself back together, had removed the stake, was a mystery. Any other vampire would have succumbed to the damage. HE should have! And instead, there he was, fiercely protective and oddly gentle with his (male?!) offspring, very much still undead.

x x xx

Johnathan had gone into the small town to find an inn of some kind able to take them in. Only after he'd made the arrangements did Abraham bring the wagon into the town, quickly moving it into the ramshackle stable before anyone would look too closely at its inhabitants. The Harkers were sent to find a blacksmith; better restraints were needed. Silver was out of the question, but perhaps iron with a cross imprinted on them would work, and a priest's blessing and a bathing in holy water would create shackles strong enough to hold the beasts. Arthur and Seward were sent to the undertaker's, a standard feature of all towns though this one also served as the local carpenter in such a small village.

Tired though Dracula was, he'd been insistent that his child have a coffin, and soon, nearly becoming violent when Abraham had initially resisted.

"He is new, he has not fed, he has barely healed. A child should be well-fed by its maker during the change, he starved through his. If you want him alive, and thus yourselves alive, for more than another day, you'll find him a suitable coffin!" The vampire practically snarled this at him; the proud beast would not beg, but it WOULD see its child cared for!

And so a coffin was being obtained. Soil had been harvested from the site where Quincy had fallen, suitable to maintain him, carried in the wagon alongside the battered black coffin of his Sire. Tonight, Quincy would find a coffin and soil waiting for him. Chilling, that the vibrant American of two days ago was now a grave-dwelling monster of the night.