Writing in advance is weird, I haven't uploaded the last chapter but I've started this one!

-YD-

"B is for?"

"Bat!"

Vlad chuckled as he heard Zoltan quizzing Wolfie on the alphabet, the little boys understanding of letters and words growing almost by the day. Ingrid could always convince him to try one more letter, but Vlad was more patient with their little brother, nor was he surprised Wolfie preferred Ingrid. Everyone did.

Second blood test done with, Vlad was trying to focus on something, anything that wasn't the things Ingrid had done to him over Halloween. Incest aside, he was still pretty sure some of it had been illegal. And they would pop into his mind at the most inappropriate of times, like now when he was trying to learn algebra by himself.

"Are you planning to do disgusting Christmas things this year? I want to know in advance if I'll be vomiting from cheeriness."

"It's Wolfie's first Christmas! Why wouldn't we?"

"Because we are supposed to be dark, vicious night creatures?"

Vlad bit the head off of his bat biscuit, chewing thoughtfully.

"Maybe. I'm not decking the halls and playing music, but I want to decorate a tree and watch a Christmas movie with him. And do gifts, not that he understands seasonal gifts."

"Fine. Nothing else."

Vlad nodded, continuing to fail at keeping his focus on maths when Ingrid was dragging her tongue up the side of her goblet to catch a stray drop of blood. The blatant display was more arousing than should be possible, and Vlad shifted uncomfortably as his trousers became too tight. Ingrid's eyes lit up - she knew what she was doing, without even trying. Renfield clattered into the room, breaking the moment but it took several minutes for Vlad to get control of his hormones.

"You're evil."

Ingrid smirked up at him later, when the desire building all day could finally find an outlet as he kissed her mouth, bit at her neck.

"You love it."

As ashamed of it as he knew he should be, Vlad did love it. Heat coiled low in his stomach as her fangs dropped, darkening her seductive smile as she switched their positions, straddling his hips and dragging the sharp tips down his throat. Squirming pleasantly beneath her, Vlad tilted his neck in submission, offering himself in the way Ingrid loved most - his blood.

Wolfie giggled happily when they decorated a little plastic tree, and Zoltan took the tinsel draped over his neck good-naturedly. Ingrid didn't actually get them gifts but Vlad gave her a wrapped thing to give Wolfie, which unsurprisingly became the favourite gift of the day.

"A dog bed? Really?"

"He's going to keep transforming, I want him to feel accepted."

Wrapped in the tartan blanket Vlad picked up on a whim, Wolfie rolled around on the floor batting at a toy Zoltan held over him, smushed christmas pudding into his face, hair and eventually mouth and fell asleep after a bath halfway through Home Alone. Even Ingrid liked it a little as it involved several instances of people in pain.

His own gift from her came later, in bed as she let him sate his urge for slow and tactile. Bare skin sliding against bare skin, exchanging soft touches and while Vlad knew her breathy moans weren't faked, Ingrid was still doing this for him - she liked it feral, rough and heated. Vlad loved that too, but he also liked slow, deep, intense.

The words I love you stayed lodged in his throat, but Vlad pushed them down, only let unintelligible sounds escape even when Ingrid held his gaze, kissed him gently. Her head fell back as she gasped and writhed through her climax, and Vlad couldn't help but be struck by just how beautiful she was, how perfectly designed she was, exquisite in ecstasy.

When they recovered from the slow burn, Ingrid encouraged him up on to his knees, holding him straight by his hair as her tongue rasped over his throat. Vlad didn't understand until he felt slick fingers probing at him, fighting not to freeze up - it was Ingrid, not Boris. This wasn't the first time she had touched him this way, but before he had always been on his back, could see her.

"Relax."

One quiet whisper against his skin, and Vlad felt his muscles turn lax, only kept upright by the firm fingers in his hair. The dual sensation of fangs in his neck, fingers pressed against his prostate, Vlad was a shivering mess of overwhelmed nerves in almost no time at all. Even while she was drinking him, Vlad was sure she smirked as he came with a shout, body bowing under the torture she inflicted oh so well.

Dizzy and shaking, Ingrid even helped him lie down on the side that meant she could clean his bleeding neck. She used her tongue, making him twitch almost painfully and left him distracted enough not to notice the antiseptic wipe, the sticky plaster that absorbed the leftover drips.

"Merry Christmas breather boy."

"Mmm. Thanks."

"For?"

Vlad tried to wrestle his thoughts into coherency, difficult so soon after he had been drunk and fucked.

"Letting me have Christmas. I know you don't like it."

"Stop talking now before you make me regret it."

He happily shut up, waiting for the dizziness to pass before he stumbled to the bathroom, brushing any hidden bits of Christmas cake from his mouth and ensuring there was no blood left on his skin. In a strange way, he would miss the feeding scars that healed when he transformed. It made him feel squirmy inside to think how Ingrid's vampiric virus swam in his blood, though his own genes destroyed it before morning each time.

The Christmas tree stuff was boxed up and hidden away by the next day before Ingrid changed her mind and flamed it, but Vlad had high hopes for convincing her to let him do the same thing next year - for Wolfie if nothing else.

"Have you decided whether you're gonna let mum out?"

"Uh. No. I hadn't really thought about it much. I have no idea how I 'zoned' her, but it's an immensely convenient way to have her locked away, but not dead. I'm tempted to let her out and send her away, but I worry she would go to Patrick and tell him about Wolfie. Which would get Lukas in trouble, and bring them both here again."

"Then why not just dust her?"

Vlad sighed, folding his jeans where Ingrid had left them pooled on the floor so they wouldn't be ridiculously creased in the morning.

"Because we might need her. The police haven't stopped suspecting me yet, if I get arrested I'll need an adult. You do not count."

Ingrid rolled her eyes, sealing their mouths together as soon as he joined her in bed. Vlad only slept in his own bed two or three times a month now, when Ingrid needed a "full meal" as she called it and spent the night out hunting livestock. Well, she told him it was only animal hunting, and he had no reason or inclination to doubt or think too hard about it.

As she slept - Ingrid was a much heavier sleeper than he - Vlad thought about what she had said. While he wasn't lying about potentially needing an adult to deal with the police, he also had mixed feelings about ashing Magda. He wanted to, had done since she had gotten their father slain, compounded by her murdering Jared. But if he did? That would make him a killer. Vlad wasn't sure he could do it.

Boris didn't count there - Vlad had put down an animal who happily raped his body and used blackmail to do it. Boris wasn't his mother.

There was also a small, dark satisfaction in Vlad about the crystal - if he tipped it just so, he could see her in it, reflected a thousand times against the facets with her hands over her ears and pain on her face. He had no idea what he had done, but it looked like Magda was in pain and a twisted part of him enjoyed that. Shuddering to himself, Vlad inhaled Ingrid's soft, sweet scent and let it carry him off to slumber.

It was another couple of months - and an extremely... interesting Valentine's day - before Lukas visited again - in the daytime, politely knocking at the door and smiling brightly at the excitable halfling.

"Luke!"

Wolfie ran over to him, having gained about a year in breather child development since Lukas last saw him. Lukas looked exactly the same, obscenely attractive for a werewolf. He was wearing navy jeans this time, dark grey t-shirt and there was a leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders and framing the contours of his muscled chest. And Vlad was staring again.

"Hey little guy, you are getting big!"

"I tied my own shoes yesterday!"

Wolfie begged him not to leave that night, giving Ingrid the full teary blue puppy eyes until she acquiesced.

"Don't you... I don't know, shift at night?"

"Yeah, but I can sleep in my other form just fine, and I'm a pretty docile wolf. Come on cub, show me which room is yours."

Zoltan wheeled off after them, so Vlad was satisfied they were at least supervised. Making a mental note to shower in the morning, he caught Ingrid checking Lukas out from behind.

"Sorry, am I interrupting your ogling?"

"Go bite yourself."

Smirking, Vlad wasn't much surprised by Ingrid's ferocity in bed that night. It was more than worth the fresh marks she bit and clawed into him, and he loved the painful pleasure they brought. His shower stung, carried the ghosts of the original sensations as he dressed. Wolfie was already dressed and being watched over at breakfast by Lukas, who offered them both cordial morning smiles and greetings - he had no clue his presence fired them both up.

"Don't leave!"

"I gotta go cub, but I'll come see you soon. Promise."

Wolfie was heartbroken for a solid three hours when Lukas left that afternoon, only thawing at last when Ingrid 'lowered herself' into agreeing to watch movies and eat icecream with her brothers. He was easier to bathe now he was older and bigger, could sort of help, but he had also picked up the habit of shaking his wet hair off like a dog which meant Vlad had had to cut his hair, and be prepared to get soaked if he didn't have a towel at the ready in time.

"What does cub mean? Luke calls me cub."

"A cub is a little wolf that hasn't grown up yet."

"Is that bad?"

Vlad shook his head, steering Wolfie into pyjamas and sitting him on his toddler-sized bed.

"Not at all. It's like calling you baby wolf without being obvious. And that's not a bad thing."

Wolfie gnawed on his rope toy as he thought, then pulled his tartan blanket around himself before curling up on his bed.

"Ok then. Night Vlad."

Mindful not to trip over the scattered dog toys - if Wolfie didn't have them he started chewing the furniture out of boredom - Vlad shook the firefly jar night-light, as Wolfie didn't like it pitch black, and left the boy to sleep.

"Well, Lukas stayed the night and the world didn't end. Either he's playing a very long game, or he really just cares about his nephew."

Ingrid hummed in agreement, selecting one of her fifteen identical red nail polish bottles to do her nails with. Vlad dropped across her bed, half-heartedly flicking through his Alchemy book - there was a section on basic alchemical formulas in his next blood test. He really couldn't wait to be done with them.

"You're almost fifteen."

"And you're almost seventeen. What's your point?"

"You're still not really vampiric. And you transform in a little over a year."

He shrugged, unsure what exactly he was meant to be feeling differently.

"What am I supposed to do? Fake it? If I was more vampiric I wouldn't be letting you use me as a portable, refillable juice carton."

Ingrid didn't answer, and Vlad had no idea what her goal had been in starting the conversation, but he was content to let the topic die off by itself. He still didn't want to be a vampire. He just... saw perks in his future that hadn't been there before. Like Ingrid. He had always expected their father to drive her away before he even hit the Blood Mirror, until he was gone and Vlad had let previously unthinkable thoughts start to creep upwards until it became... whatever it was they had. A loosely parametered incestuous sexual relationship was too many words. It was just... them.

"You aren't even studying."

"I am. Just not the book."

Ingrid was sat only in her lace briefs to paint her nails, lest a droplet land on any of her enough-for-an-army dress collection. And it was hardly Vlad's fault she was immensely distracting. The Alchemy book could hardly compare to all that porcelain skin waiting to be touched. She blew delicately across the fresh polish, encouraging it to dry faster. Vlad knew Ingrid wouldn't come near him until it was set, otherwise he would have tacky sticky globs stuck to him and Ingrid's artwork would be ruined. He actually ended up reading some more just to pass the time.

The more he studied 'the chosen one' lore, the more confused Vlad was by the internal conviction that his dreams were true, that these stories were about him. There was no signs of 'bloodlines dropping' or any of the other harbingers, warnings. Nothing but his bizarre dream day, and a certainty hidden somewhere deep inside him.

"Vlad, look!"

Lifting his head from the book pile it was buried behind, Vlad looked over at Wolfie. His vocabulary had suddenly developed, almost overnight and ahead of even his physical development. He was well past three physically by now, but infinitely more interactive now he could carry a conversation. He was even learning to read slowly but surely, lazing across the top of Zoltan's back and reading alongside the stuffed hellhound.

"What's up bro?"

"I made Zoltan pretty!"

Turning eyes to Zoltan, Vlad saw Wolfie had gotten hold of Ingrid's nail polish, painting it messily across Zoltan's paws. Zoltan had taken it fairly silently, but Vlad could see the taxidermy pet was not thrilled. Getting Ingrid to distract Wolfie was easy enough, removing the sticky mess from Zoltan's fur was not.

"Thanks for being patient with him. He adores you."

"So he should. I am an excellent hellhound."

Eventually managing to clean the fur without just shaving it off - Zoltan wouldn't exactly be able to grow it back, he was dead - Vlad came up with a half-bite excuse for Wolfie about it coming off in Zoltan's bath anyway to placate the child.

"But I did make him pretty?"

Wolfie had darker eyes than Ingrid, but the exact same wide-eyed sad puppy look. Ingrid's was usually faked, but the resemblance was there.

"Of course you did. Come on, let's get your hands cleaned up for dinner."

Renfield served them something strange looking, but it tasted mostly ok. Ingrid cast a glance over his reading material, and Vlad hoped his heart rate stayed steady, briefly paralysed by a panic that Ingrid would work it out and mock him or accuse him of lying to her.

"Someone really wants to pass their test."

"Well, last one. If I failed this one all the effort I put in before would be wasted. I might as well have failed from the start."

The terrifying moment passed, and Vlad started to question himself again. What was he hiding for now? He wasn't even sure. He just... he didn't want to tell Ingrid and neither being mocked or causing her anger seemed firm enough reasons. It just sat next to the "I love you" box, on a mental shelf built of guilt, deceit, lies and shame.

For once, he was glad Ingrid went out hunting. Vlad sat on his own bed up in the tower, staring out of the window into the night sky and tried to work out what he would do. Ingrid had proven he could trust her sometimes - she had helped him with Boris. She had given him no cause to think she was killing humans. Ingrid could easily kill him if she wanted, every time she fed from him all she had to do was keep going, drain him dry. She never did.

But Vlad wasn't naive. Ingrid cared for him more than she admitted, but nowhere near as much as he wanted, wished. Needed. Ingrid certainly didn't love him, and he was ultimately replaceable both in bed and as food. Wolfie would soon grow out of needing all-day observation as he aged rapidly.

If she wanted, Ingrid could kill him off, probably convince Lukas to stay and take care of Wolfie if Renfield failed to take sufficient care of him and take off hunting across the globe. He didn't expect her to kill him any time soon, but if she found out he had been lying to her, hiding something since before they had even kissed... that could change.

-YD-

I swear I thought this was finished, then it came to upload day and I realised I hadn't actually completed the chapter. I'm totally good at this author business.

I realise Vlad hiding the Chosen One thing is a recurring theme, but I promise it's going somewhere. Connecting plot points is a huge struggle of mine, I either ramble on or stare blankly into the abyss searching for inspiration.