Oh, it was a good thing indeed that he didn't breathe. The face-splitting grin was buried in the pillow and invisible but muffled laughter would have given the game away. As it was, the slight influence he'd used on a groggy mind to briefly convince the man that it was a dream had worked amazingly effectively. Hiding his reaction when the man had PETTED him was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. Pure shock had helped.
Running footsteps in the hall, stressed and almost-shouted commands (trying to keep the vampire from hearing and waking? Seriously? Did the man have NO IDEA how acute a vampire's hearing WAS?), frantic babbling... Yes, he was going to start laughing if this kept up. And he'd need something more concealing than a pillow until he managed to force his expression back into a mimicry of sleepy harmlessness.
x x xx x x
"Noooooooooooooooo..." That pathetic groan could have come from any adolescent suffering through being rousted out of bed. This was no adolescent, it was a centuries-old bloodsucking monster...and it was curled up on his bed, still half-under the covers. And pulling his pillow over its head!
It needed to be safely down in the basement, shackled and chained and behind thick iron doors.
And yet... He could only shake his head. Maybe he could get it to move down there without them having to beat it into submission.
Beating it...that was dangerous, no matter how quiescent the beast appeared now. They COULD injure it into immobility, that wasn't the problem. He had silver bullets, crucifixes, the Host, a silver-tipped cane, Holy Water vials, a handful of stakes, and a clutter of protective amulets clanking about his neck and stuffing his pockets. The men racing to arm themselves and now gathering behind him were equally armed.
Somehow...he was inherently reluctant to injure the beast. Enraging it could be a terrible mistake. But he wasn't about to grab it and move it, either. With a deep breath and a prayer to God, Abraham stepped forward and swatted the vampire's rump with his cane.
x x xx x x
The man had actually STRUCK him. Right on the rear, like a recalcitrant child having a tantrum! Oh, this was rich! Should he be indignant? That was...humiliating! But with a smug smirk, Dracula recognized the effect of his constant mental manipulations. What human would ever willingly smack a VAMPIRE? He ought to tear the man apart for such an appalling act, but... Nope. That would lead to the Harkers and Arthur and Seward and a hunt and stakes and an entire inconvenient episode in his existence.
Again.
No, time to do something entirely unexpected and yet entirely in character with the harmless, ridiculously mild-mannered beast he was portraying. Van Helsing had determined he had a "child-mind", eh?
He'd SHOW that man "child-mind"!
x x xx x x
Under the bed. How in the name of all that was holy did he have a vampire under his bed? And SNIVELING. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation had him ready to either beat his head on the wall or stomp off to the wine cellar and drink himself stupid. Instead, he found himself on his knees, peering under his bed at an accusing pair of red eyes, demanding that the beast come out from under it.
Only to have it curl up tighter and mumble "No. You HIT me."
No, he'd STAKED the damned bastard! This was the most frustrating thing ever.
x x xx x x
This was more fun that Dracula had had in ages. Van Helsing looked ready to pull his hair out. It was so hard not to laugh at the man. This plump pompous dutch doctor was squatting on the floor, face red, hair sticking out at awkward angles, trying to convince him to come out from under the bed.
Maybe he would...for a bribe.
Could he get the man to entirely disarm himself in front of a vampire? Just how much influence COULD he have on this man? Would it push the human's mind too far, or push his toy human into such illogic that he'd realize what was happening?
x x xx x x
The spells had done more than contain and restrain a monster. They'd tamed it...and turned it into some combination of spoiled pet and petulant child. This was insane. But it was wary and pouting and covered in dust bunnies (a matter to be raised with the maids shortly...) and not about to come out.
"No. You HIT me."
"I won't hit you again if you come out."
"You will."
"Won't."
A smug sort of "proved you wrong" tone, and a thin white hand unfolded to point accusingly at his side. "You have THAT."
It wasn't until the cane, visible crucifix and amulets, pistol, Host, Holy Water, and pocketfuls of charms were piled well out of reach that the dusty monster deigned to squirm gracelessly out from under the bed and stand before him in gangling, dangling awkwardness. And stand. And stand. And then, finally, speak.
"Well?"
Abraham hadn't said anything because he didn't have the slightest clue what the hell to do with his monster now. Clearly, threatening it and beating it and driving it back downstairs was out of the question.
He didn't want to have to coax the damn thing out from under the bed a second time.
"Follow me."
"Where?"
"Back down to the cellars."
"Why?"
Oh, dear lord above, how to answer this...
"That's where you'll live."
"I'm not alive."
"FINE. Then that's where you will BE STAYING."
"Oh."
Abraham turned to walk away, too frustrated with the beast's simplicity to be wary or frightened. The men, however, dodged out of the way and down the corridor as they spotted his stormy expression coming their way. The vampire simply trailed a few steps behind him.
"Is there a bathing room there?"
"A BATHING ROOM? Why, pray tell, would there be a BATHING ROOM in the BASEMENT?"
And then the vampire stopped dead in the hallway, halfway between his bedroom and the basement door.
"But...how will I get CLEAN?" Distressed, the vampire was now brushing its dusty hands on its pants, dislodging the occasional dust bunny from grey hair with the motion.
It WAS a mess. Bloody and dirty from the capture, now filmy with dust, and shifting from foot-to-foot in a fussy state of distress at the situation. Some of the filth was now on HIS bedclothes but you couldn't tell from looking at the beast that any of it was missing.
x x xx x x
This...was too much fun. Abraham had his back to him, head down, shoulders hunched forward, visibly restraining himself from turning around and shouting obscenities. Delightful. Leaning down to fussily fail at cleaning his battered boots at least gave a chance to let that grin out unseen for a fleeting moment. It had nearly hurt, holding that in.
And then the man turned, stomped back past him, muttering deliciously Dutch imprecations, and led him BACK to the bedroom...where a pleasantly furnished bathing room waited for his use.
It took a long time for Abraham to convince him to take a warm bath, but not too terribly long. He WAS uncomfortably filthy, and hedonistically enthusiastic about a hot, scented, luxuriant soak. He just didn't let Van Helsing see that. Clean clothes, too? Excellent. Good ones, too, straight from Van Helsing's own closet.
Although he fussed about how they didn't match just to watch Van Helsing's face turn an even more amazing shade of red.
x x xx x x
It was nearing dawn but the damnable monster WOULD NOT hurry in the slightest. It was tractable, finally, following him obediently down the hallway, but...it trudged. It was constantly distracted by portraits on the wall, a shiny gaslight fixture, keyholes... Every damned keyhole, it seemed, had been peered through. And questions.
"Who is this?"
"Where does this go?"
"How old are you?" (where the hell did THAT come from?)
Abraham felt more like a sheepdog nipping at the heels of an oblivious sheep than a successful vampire hunter and was more than slightly frazzled by the time he finally got his laggard beast safely down into the dark.
It followed him down the stairs without issue, up to the door of the cell he'd designated as its abode, calm and quiet and finally unquestioning. Maybe the daylight had muted it? Almost anxious, Dracula stepped past him through the iron-bound doorway, past the iron-barred door...and stopped dead. TWO MORE INCHES and Abraham would have been able to close the door! TWO INCHES. Wide red eyes stared in near-panic at the empty room.
"I CAN'T SLEEP HERE! WHERE IS MY HOME?"
It took three men and another dozen minutes to get the coffin in the cell with the vampire. He'd sworn only a day before that it wouldn't get the coffin until it was broken to his control.
He hadn't pictured a worried, fretful child-vampire on the verge of tears due to not having its coffin.
He had expected it to settle quickly into its coffin, close its eyes, and finally sleep.
He hadn't expect it to fussily adjust the coffin to its own absurd standards. First, it was turned with the head towards one wall, then turned the other way, then pulled across the chamber...
Dracula lay down in it, a few seconds ticked by as Abraham began to relax, thinking it had settled for the day...and then it was up again, to move the coffin a bare FINGERWIDTH to the side. The vampire stood, arms akimbo, beaming happily down at the coffin, stooped...
And began to adjust the lining. Every. Single. Lump. was carefully smoothed out, invisible bits of lint and dirt flicked off it, the lid carefully inspected. Finally, finally, when he was just about to snap at the monster for its frustratingly slow behavior (it was worse than his son had been, delaying bedtime with requests for stories, a glass of water, a trip to the toilet, another blanket, an open window, etc.), it clambered inside the coffin.
And settled itself. Then sat up, scooted down a miniscule amount, and settled again.
x x xx x x
He was so tired. He could have gone to sleep a quarter-hour previously but Van Helsing was so angry he could nearly see that man steaming! It was too lovely a situation to let it go to waste due to simple sleepiness. Finally, though, he was safely encased in his final home, dark and secure, hidden from the world by four wooden sides and a heavy lid.
He could hear Abraham sigh, and waited until the slightest clank indicated that the man had grasped the door...
And then he shifted the lid of the coffin, lifting it a handspan up, moving it a hairs-width to the left, and then lowering it again.
He could HEAR that man's teeth creak as Van Helsing clenched them!
It was a battle to stay awake the last few minutes, but he did detect Abraham taking a final, deep, struggling-to-keep-his-temper breath as he himself grinned a sharp white grin in the unseen dark of the coffin. There was a grating sound as the heavy door was pulled shut, a click, the heavy thunk of a lock engaging...footsteps going down the hall.
Three...four steps...and then the man stopped.
The series of steady thumps after that were most likely Van Helsing's head impacting the wall.
The night hadn't started out very well, but really, he hadn't been this entertained in DECADES. Tomorrow he'd have to connive a nice big dinner from the man, but that would be easy enough. The man was a doctor, drawing blood was well within the human's skill range. Convincing the man to give him the blood might have been an issue had he not spent such a pleasant night warping the man's opinion of him.
He'd firmly established the impression of harmless infantile behavior. It had been carefully cultivated and then reinforced powerfully with mental manipulations. Abraham's understanding of the vicious nature of vampires had been carefully repressed, supplanted, caution replaced with frustration, respect for power exchanged with annoyance at ineptitude.
And now he was safe, secure in his coffin, that long recuperative rest waiting for him, and, tomorrow night, an almost certain meal. Abraham had gone to tear his hair out, get drunk, rant to any listeners he could locate, and otherwise react to the sheer frustration of the night.
Yep. Best. Day. Ever.
(end)
(stopping here, just assume at this point that he's wormed his way into the household, and by the time Abraham realizes what actually happened the vampire is firmly ensconced in the organization and too useful to lose...after an hour-long rant at it for the deception!)