AN: Although probably no one is reading this, but I thought I might inform you just in case that I'm basing basically all of the characters on the 2012 Berlin production with Drew Sarich. I say basically everyone, because Sarah is an exception. I'm picturing her more as Sharon Tate, or Vera from the Russian production. Of course, you can envision whichever one you prefer, but in case I put a descriptor of their looks/personality that disagrees with another version, well…now you know why.

Oh I should also probably warn you there's a lot of suicide mentions in this chapter.

CHAPTER TWO

"They just disappeared…" Rebecca Chagal looked around in bewilderment, as did everyone else left standing in the small village. The professor was lost in his own thoughts, wondering if perhaps it was about to be daylight, but it was still quite dark outside. He was interrupted in his musings by suddenly being pulled into a tight embrace by someone.

"You! You saved my life!"

It was the man from earlier, who had fainted after watching the first and only staking Abronsius ever performed. Normally, the professor would bask in acknowledgement of his good deeds, but he noticed Rebecca watching them with a somewhat disappointed look. He felt strangely guilty. Motioning the man towards her, he gave a small smile towards the innkeeper's wife.

"Thank her, I couldn't have done it alone."

Just then, someone pointed up towards the castle and screamed, "They're coming back!"

From the top of the mountain, dozens and dozens of shadowy figures flew through the air, partially masked by the darkness and fog. In a panic, everyone started reaching for the nearest weapon and huddled together, prepared for another attack, but it never came. The flying figures never swooped down upon them. They didn't even stay together as one flock, they split off, going in different directions and disappearing once again over the dark horizon.

"Those must be the others that were at the ball…where could they be going?" Abronsius said to himself, but was heard by Rebecca.

"The ball?"

"You don't know?" he asked incredulously. "I figured you would know more about that than me, living here all your life and such…"

Rebecca shook her head, and thus the professor began giving a long-winded explanation of what he knew about the midwinter ball, and all else that happened up at the castle. He tried not to exaggerate his own accomplishments, but it was extremely difficult. When he was done, Rebecca only had one question.

"Is there a cure?"

The professor furrowed his brows in confusion. "A cure for what, Madame?"

"The curse of the vampire, what else? Is there any hope for my daughter, or even my husband?"

Ordinarily, the professor would be blunt and go with the answer he was almost positive was true: that vampirism is irreversible. But he'd never had to tell this to someone who had lost everything due to it. He would have to be truly heartless to dash away that person's last shred of hope. And even if he didn't like to think so, and didn't necessarily show it, the professor still was not immune to emotion.

"I've never heard of a cure…but that doesn't mean one doesn't exist."

/

The first place Herbert lead Alfred to was of course, his bedchamber. Not for any intimate reason (although Herbert only kept the bed in this room for that purpose) but because it only made sense to keep Alfred somewhere within his arm's reach but away from the Graf's. The crypt obviously wouldn't do. Besides, with all its pastel hues and soft silks, Herbert's old room was probably the most cheerful one in the entire castle, and hopefully would make Alfred feel more comfortable.

"I suppose you'll have to sleep in the bed until we can attain a suitable coffin for you. Besides, I'm sure that'll make it all much easier for you, won't it? It took me ages to get used to the coffin but really, it's much safer... Oh dear, I'll have to somehow move mine up from the crypt…or get another one," Herbert mused, circling about the room as he started making plans for this new situation. Oh, it would be complicated, but his optimism was unshakable. He would make this fun, for himself and Alfred.

"Don't you worry too much about Father," the blonde assured the young vampire. "You won't really be a prisoner for nearly as long as he'd like you to think. He goes into phases like this all the time with people who displease him, but trust me, he will get over it. In a week or so, I'm sure you'll be free to roam the castle as much as you—Alfred, my dear, what's wrong? Are you crying?"

Alfred had sunk down in a corner of the room, hiding his face between his knees. His whole body was shaking as his sobs gradually grew louder and louder. Rushing to kneel beside him, Herbert tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, but was roughly pushed away.

"Alfred, please, tell me…" he pleaded. "Let me help you."

"I can't…I can't…oh God…"

It took a moment for Herbert to realize what this must be. He'd never had to deal with it personally, but he'd seen it happen with several other newly turned vampires over the centuries. It was always a difficult thing to watch.

"Is this about what happened in the village? What you and Sarah did?"

Alfred barely managed to choke out a response, still hiding his face. "I don't even know how many people I killed, there were so many…there was so much blood, I…"

"Alfred, that wasn't you. That was something you couldn't help, something nobody in your situation could possibly control. Without someone experienced to help you, this kind of thing always happens. I know to you it was horrific, but—"

"How can you say that? How do any of you just get accustomed to murdering people?" Alfred snapped, finally raising his head to look Herbert in the eyes. "I thought once someone becomes a vampire, they lose all sense of themselves. They lose their soul, and that's why they can do unspeakable things without a thought. But no…I am still myself. That was me out there. I have no excuse. And neither do any of you."

"Yes, you are yourself now, but you weren't at first. None of us are ourselves the moment we are turned. All we become is the hunger, and until we satiate it, we can't control what we do. It takes time to learn how to restrain oneself. You must not blame yourself…"

Alfred's sobbing had quieted somewhat, but did not cease. After a while, he leaned in to Herbert, letting the blonde wrap him up in his arms. Herbert tried not to get his hopes up about this. In this moment, Alfred would probably seek comfort in the arms of Death himself. But even so, it was nice, knowing he seemed to have made the boy feel at least a little bit better.

Their silence was interrupted by a knock at the door. Glancing up with a cocked brow, Herbert sighed with annoyance before slowly letting go of Alfred.

"Just a moment, dear…" he murmured, standing to open the door. When he did, he was surprised to see his father standing there.

"Oh, it's you…"

"I need your help with something," said the Graf bluntly. Giving him a strange look, Herbert crossed his arms.

"With what, exactly?"

The older man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sarah is absolutely distraught. I'm sure you can imagine why."

"Yes, because of what happened earlier….Alfred is quite upset too."

"You don't understand, I had to hold her down to keep her from trying to drive things through her heart. Right now, Koukol is keeping her locked up in my coffin, but I don't know how long that'll last. New vampires are always so tumultuous…She says as soon as the sun rises, she's going to run outside and let herself burn, or else find another way to end her life. I can't even speak to her, everything I say only makes it worse."

Herbert snorted at this last part. "Well, Father, that's because your idea of soothing someone is to tell them 'life is nothing but pain, get used to it'…"

When the Graf only gave Herbert a scathing glare, the blonde held up his hands in surrender and started to walk past him. "Alright, alright, I'll talk to her, but someone has to watch Alfred…make sure he doesn't kill himself…but don't say anything to him!"

The Graf just pushed him further down the hallway, waving for him to hurry. "I won't, just get to her before she overpowers Koukol and tries to stake herself!"

With that, Herbert started rushing at an inhuman speed through the castle towards the crypt. Honestly, one would think his father would be smarter than to bring an already distressed girl to a place reserved for death...and then lock her in a coffin! What a cold hearted imbecile. Yes, she and Alfred would have to grow accustomed to it eventually, but not right away…

Arriving at the stairway down to the crypt, he found sharp pieces of iron strewn all across the room, some with blood stained on the tips. Glancing down at the railing beside him, he saw that quite a few of its bars were missing. Meanwhile, Koukol was frantically stacking heavy stones on top of his father's coffin, which was still shaking even underneath so much weight. From inside, he could easily hear Sarah's shrieks. It sounded as if someone was torturing her with a red-hot iron.

"Koukol, open the coffin," Herbert demanded calmly.

The hunchback looked at him incredulously, pointing at the shaking stones and struggling to speak. "But…I just…she..."

"Father asked me to talk to her. Just block the door, in case she tries to run," Herbert instructed him. Koukol obeyed, taking the stones off the sarcophagus one by one. Before he was even done with the last stone, the lid of the coffin suddenly flew open, nearly hitting them in the process. Herbert barely had time to snatch Sarah's wrist before she could escape.

"Let me go!" she screamed, clawing at his hand. He winced at the pain but just held on harder, almost breaking her wrist with the strength needed to restrain her.

"I can't, Father doesn't want you to go," he said simply. Despite his vice-like grip, she didn't stop fighting him.

"I don't care!"

The pain on her face was indescribable, as the tears of a vampire are not like that of a human's. Usually, they are only tinged a little with blood. But since she had just massacred several people, there was a solid stream of deep red running from each of her eyes, staining her face. It looked as if she had been crying for hours, although she couldn't have been at the castle for more than thirty minutes thus far.

"Sarah, you can't leave. Not now. It's too dangerous, you could kill more people…" Herbert warned her, hoping this would maybe make her stop, but it didn't.

"No! I had my fill, the only one I'll be killing is myself—"

"But you won't! Sarah, we have too much of a will to survive, even in our darkest hours…trust me, I know. Your body won't let you destroy yourself…"

Of course, this was a lie. Vampires were entirely capable of committing suicide—the only reason it was harder for them than for humans was because it was harder to kill a vampire by any means. But he couldn't have her believe that.

Sarah's fighting eventually started to die down after a while. She still had plenty of energy left, but seemed to realize that her struggle was in vain. Herbert was too strong. Crumpling to the floor beside the stone coffin, her bloody tears continued to flow uninterrupted.

"It is truly a curse then, to be a monster and not even be able to end it…all I'll ever do is bring destruction and pain to others, and for all eternity…"

Herbert narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That depressing idea sounded like something his father would have implied to the girl, no doubt when he was trying to 'comfort' her. In the Graf's own mind, he probably thought he was doing a good thing, making her see the 'truth'—but even if he was right, when did the truth ever make anyone happy?

"No, you won't. There is so much more to it. There is sadness, and pain, and we make mistakes, but there are also good times. There's still love and happiness to be found—even if some say there isn't," he sighed, sitting down beside her. "It's like life for a human. It just has lower lows, higher highs, and lasts a lot longer."

It took quite a bit of patience for Herbert to repeat all of the sentiments he had expressed earlier to make Alfred feel better, since would honestly rather not play therapist for everyone. The Graf had a nasty habit of sending in Herbert anytime there was the slightest sign of emotional conflict. At first, Herbert had been honored to have a talent his father did not, but after a while, it got to be rather annoying. But it wasn't as if he detested Sarah. All he really knew about her was that she was the first person in ages (aside from himself) to make the Graf smile. If something pleased Father, it usually pleased him.

"Did…did you kill people, when you turned?" Sarah asked quietly, looking up at him. The redness filling up her eyes had begun to disappear, and the dark brown of her irises was once again visible.
"Well, eventually I did, all vampires do, but not at first. Not like you and Alfred. Father was there to hold me back. He wanted to make sure I didn't end up with the same regrets as him."

"So he killed half a village in his time then, did he?" Sarah asked, a bitterness tainting her voice.

"No. Just my mother."

At this, the girl's eyes went wide and she turned away as if ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"It's…alright, I don't remember her," he shrugged. Glancing away, he cleared his throat. "I probably shouldn't have told you that, he barely talks about things like that even to me. So…please don't tell him I told you."

"I won't."

"Good," he said, pausing a moment before standing up to walk away. "I think my work here is done, so…I'll leave you be."

Sarah dully watched him go, wondering if she should thank him for his kindness, but decided against it. She didn't have the energy for it, and he probably didn't need it. He was just doing what his father wanted. Still, that last bit of information was honestly the first real thing she had discovered about the Graf, aside from him having a son, of course. It was so surreal, to have her entire life turned upside down because of someone who might as well be a stranger to her.

God, I don't even know his name…