I felt bad about leaving that one, too, so I dug up the sequel I kind of idly wrote by mistake while I was meant to be writing something else soon after posting the last chapter. It's not happy per se, but... enjoy.

Disclaimer: The show isn't mine. The characters aren't mine. Right now my own wallet isn't even mine. Got it? It's not mine.

Bertrand wished he could pinpoint the moment he started living again. It wasn't any one thing that made him feel whole; he didn't suddenly see rainbows as he crept from a breather girl's bed before dawn, or reawaken to the simple pleasure of eating an ice cream after sunset. Instead, at some point during his stay by the sea, he just realised that he didn't feel all hollowed-out any more. He felt almost content.

And then, of course, the longing crashed over him and ruined it all. Vlad. He had had the Chosen One's love, and he'd walked away from it. Oh, he'd had his hatred and his anger and his stake first, but Vlad had been more than generous in his actions towards Bertrand after he'd returned. And Bertrand, ungrateful servant that he was, had rejected him. Had rejected the Chosen One, had rejected his duty. He'd even rejected his own heart. Vlad had put a stake in it, he reminded himself crossly.

He couldn't forgive that. But he couldn't stay away.

"Renfield," he'd croaked – his voice seemed to be failing him now - when the drudge opened the door to the new residence he'd finally tracked down, "I need to see Vlad." Renfield had shown him through with his usual grace, and Bertrand had found himself standing outside Vlad's coffin room. That was odd; it was just after sunset, and whether Vlad was currently nocturnal or not, he would usually be awake and downstairs with the rest of his family now. He knocked gently, reluctant to disturb him if he was, indeed, asleep.
"Who is it?" came the irritable reply, and Bertrand didn't know how to answer, so he pushed the door open instead and slipped inside so the Chosen One could see for himself.

When the younger vampire looked up from his position, hunched in a corner and surrounded by balls of crumpled paper, all irritation slid from his face, only to be replaced by a sort of... well, the sort of emptiness Bertrand knew all too well.
"I don't have time to sleep right now," Vlad told him dully, as if that made any kind of sense, "I've got to get this right." He gestured down at his papers; Bertrand could only guess that he was trying to draft a letter of some sort. Still, this was familiar ground, after a fashion. He could work with this.
"Well, perhaps I can help. What are you trying to do?" Hesitantly, he sat himself down against the wall, just far enough away that he wouldn't be tempted to try to read over Vlad's shoulder.
"I've just got to... I need to find the right words to tell you – the real you, not dream-you – how sorry I am, how much... how... I can't..."

Bertrand's eyes widened and he reached out to touch Vlad's arm, realising at last what he'd meant about sleeping.
"Vlad, you're awake. I'm real, I... I came back."
"Why would you ever come back?" Vlad snorted mirthlessly even as he leant into the touch – subconsciously, Bertrand thought. "Why would you ever want to see me again after what I- I don't think even I want to see me, thank blood for no reflec-"
"I couldn't be without you." The words spilled out without his consent, but he didn't regret them, because they were true, and it seemed like they were words Vlad needed to hear.
"I know the feeling," Vlad sighed, and then he leapt up as if he'd been burned, sudden realisation written across his face. "You're real!"

Bertrand nodded, bewildered, and hastened to rise also as the Chosen One began to pace.
"Oh blood, I thought I was just dreaming about you again, all the things I was going to say to you if I ever saw you again, and- and I told you I didn't have time-" Bertrand had uncrumpled a nearby piece of paper and was scanning it earnestly. Dear Bertrand, I'm so sorry, and I know I have no right to need you but I do, please come home-
"Vlad, I... I'm sorry, I'm sorry I left if this is how you've felt-"
"You're sorry?" Vlad rounded on him incredulously. "I staked you, and then I acted like it was OK and started sleeping with you, and you let me, and I didn't even stop to think-"
"I love you." That stopped him in his tracks. "I couldn't... I couldn't feel anything for so long, and then one day I could and all I could feel was you, and-"
"How could you still love me after-"
"I don't know!" The confession tore itself from him painfully. "I don't know, but I do, and..." He dropped to his knees, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was arguing with the Grand High Vampire now. "...and I'd like to ask for my old jobs back."
"Your old- oh- yeah, no." Bertrand's head snapped up in shock – he'd thought Vlad might grant him this – but he nodded obediently.
"Of course, you must have a new valet by now, it's been years-"

"It's not that." Vlad looked as if he didn't know how to explain himself, and eventually gestured helplessly for Bertrand to get up.

When he didn't, Vlad himself dropped to his knees opposite him. "You just said you love me."
"I do. Fog knows I've tried to forget-"
"I love you too, Bertrand, but I can't... I can't let myself have you, you can't forgive me just like that-"
"I'm not sure I have forgiven you." He shrugged helplessly. "But I had to see if there was any chance for us- for us to-" He couldn't quite presume enough to finish the sentence, but he didn't have to; Vlad understood.
"I don't want you to be my valet because you're worth more than that to me. You're not a servant, I should never have treated you like one. But Bertrand... will you stay?" He nodded.
"If I may, I'd be honoured."

Vlad reached out to touch his cheek, his thumb stroking gently.
"You have a room here, you know. I had all the things you left behind brought. When we moved."
"Why?" It came out a little more breathlessly than he'd intended, and Vlad smiled sadly.
"I hoped you'd come back... and even if you didn't, I wanted... it just seemed right that there should be a place for you in my home. Always." Bertrand couldn't help it; he closed the distance between their lips to give the very softest, most chaste of kisses.

When he drew back, Vlad looked horrified, scrambling to his feet, but the corners of his mouth had turned up. "You can't- you can't love me-"
"Is there someone else?" Bertrand stood too.
"No. No, blood, I mean, I've had... it's been years, there've been... girls, I couldn't bear to look at another man, I knew the best man I could want was-"
"But there's no-one now?"
"No." He hesitated, as if unsure he wanted to know. "You?"
"About the same. Why can't I love you, then?"
"You know why. I staked you."
"We got a second chance." He still couldn't believe that he'd returned to unlife; he certainly couldn't believe he was standing here again looking into those utterly entrancing eyes... more than anything, he couldn't believe he'd ever thought he could leave him. "Vlad, do you... do you still want me?"
"I told you, I love you. I've- even before- it was why thinking you wanted me dead hurt so much-"
"Imagine knowing you wanted me dead so much you actually killed me," Bertrand murmured, and then Vlad's arms were around his neck, and they were clinging desperately to one another.

"That's why you can't love me. I... I killed you."
"I do love you. I was so numb, and then at last I could feel my heart and it just wanted y-" Vlad kissed him, then, and it wasn't soft, or chaste, or even brief. There were tears streaming down his face, Bertrand realised, and they weren't his own. Vlad pulled back at last to brush at his eyes, embarrassed.
"I missed you. Blood, Bertrand, I missed you."
"I'm back. I'm here, if you want me."
"Of course I want- fog, Bertrand, you're sure this is real?"
"If it wasn't, I'd tell you the staking didn't matter. I can't do that, so it must be real." Vlad looked guilty, but Bertrand kissed the tear tracks on his cheeks and that seemed to make him want to laugh instead.
"No-one would believe me if I told them you just did that."
"Going soft in my old age. Nearly five hundred now." Vlad began pressing kisses to his neck, and Bertrand tensed for only a second before allowing it. Vlad looked up, as if struck by an idea.
"You should bite me."
"What? No. That's treason-"
"Not if I ask you to. I'd... I'd be yours, you could know that, everyone could know-"
"Are you proposing?"
"Um... yeah, sort of, I suppose?" Bertrand pushed him against a wall – through a pile of crumpled paper – and kissed him harder than was probably polite.
"We'll talk about it-" He kissed him again. "-another time, when we're a bit settled, alright?"
"Mm." Vlad didn't seem particularly interested in anything other than getting more kisses, and Bertrand was more than happy to oblige him.

"Bertrand?" The voice piped up as dawn began to break, and they both lay side by side in Vlad's coffin, fully clothed, with their arms wrapped around each other. "Are you going to leave again?" He thought about it for a moment.
"I don't think so," he told him, "not forever, anyway. Are you going to stake me again?"
"No," Vlad promised, looking him right in the eye so he could see his sincerity. "never. Stay with me?" It wasn't clear if he meant for the day's sleep, or more permanently. Bertrand nodded anyway.
"Of course I'll stay."