Disclaimer: I do not own Dracula or Van Helsing, just April and the story. -Linwe
Author's note: I'm sorry this took me so long, I was so busy, it could hardly be believed. And many many many thanks to the Unrequited Lover for her awesome suggestion!
The Count stood, perplexed, as April pulled item after item out of her closet, looking for something he could wear. How could one person own all these clothes? He shook his head at the thought and at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"I would not hurt, my dear, to somewhat cut down on your purchasing of clothes in the future, no?" He said sarcastically in his thick accent. April turned around, annoyed, because he had been badgering her like this for almost an hour.
"Look, I'm doing the best I can, here. Yes, I have lots of clothes, but I'm trying to find something you would actually wear." She cast a look at her dresses that were thrown everywhere. When she looked up, he was still staring, eyebrow raised expectantly at her like she was some servant who wasn't doing a good enough job. That was it. She'd had enough.
"What are you doing? I'm getting cold. This old house," he looked around at her old house with a supercilious look on his face, "seems to let in quite a draft."
"Why don't you, Count, find your own clothes."
"That is nonsense-" he said with a wave of his hand.
"Is it? Well, if you can't do anything for yourself, and expect me to be your servant, than I suggest you leave my house." She noticed he seemed to have fully regained his superior manner and that he seemed to have completely forgotten that she was the one to whom he owed his very life!
"I think that I may do just that, Miss April!" He said with venom in his voice. He, himself couldn't exactly understand it, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with feeling, and it blinded his judgement, making him think rashly. He couldn't control it, but he knew what it was- annoyance that was turning into anger. For the first time in over 400 years he felt anger. It was intoxicating.
"Are you daft?" asked April. "You'll freeze to death." She looked out her large bedroom window and saw sparkling white flakes fall from the sky as clouds slowly glided to cover the full moon. "You, see that it's snowing, don't you? Where will you go?"
"Well, I am a Count, and I am certain that my charm and charisma will not fail to-"
"Enough!" She said, feeling angry and impatient with the Count. She walked up to him and looked him in the eyes, her green ones penetrating his black ones. "Why don't you stop and think for a moment? You are nothing! You have no relatives, no brides, no powers, no castle, and no tolerance for cold…" She paused for a breath. "Have you stopped to think at all? You'll starve out there! You'll die! You know nothing about being human anymore! You've been dead for 400 years with all the powers that the Devil gave you at your disposal! But now you have nothing." He seemed to flinch. "I can tell you that charisma and charms won't get you through life for long." He stared at her, his expression having changed quite a bit from annoyed to attentive and almost frightened. She continued. "One thing you have to learn, Count, is that you are not the center of the universe, and that you need to treat other people with more respect. Because like I said, now that you're truly alive, you're nothing! Nothing! So either you realize the reality of this situation and make the best of it, or you will be alone in this world!"
He hadn't moved from where he stood, but just stared at April with an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes were wide and his brow was curiously furrowed as though beholding something monstrous for the first time. April couldn't help but feel a little guilty. She left the room in a hurry toward her kitchen to make some sort of supper, lost in her own thoughts. She was so lost in them that she didn't even see him cross the kitchen to the room she said he'd be sleeping in.
She couldn't even believe that she'd actually had the courage to say what she felt, to tell him the truth. But perhaps it was because she knew he had no one else to tell him. Perhaps it was because she unfortunately cared so much about him that she couldn't let him leave, because she was selfish. She started heating up a stew she had made earlier that day over the stove, not paying attention to the flame and burning her finger.
"Damn!" she said, pulling her finger away and putting cold water on it. She fumbled and dropped the pitcher, her tears blinding her. It wasn't just the burning pain on her index finger that brought the tears though. It was the sudden realization that she was being horribly selfish, and had probably made a huge mistake by resurrecting the Count. She'd had these thoughts before about wondering whether to bring him back or not, but it didn't matter now. He was alive. He was here, with her, and all she could do was cry. "What is going on? Why have I done this? Did I just use the excuse of owing him something an excuse to kiss him again? To feel his arms around me or to hear the soft, deep sound of his voice in my ear?" She replaced the pot on the stove, brushing her tears away. "This whole situation is just a mess!" She stirred the pot on the stove until it was steaming and then turned off the stove, very carefully.
Slowly, she poured the stew into two bowls. She just stared blankly at one of them, wondering what she should do. Should she give it to him? What would he say? How would he react? Was he really considering leaving? He didn't even know why she'd resurrected him… or did he? She shook all these thought away and picked up the bowl with a mug of water and padded in her bare feet over the old, creaking, wooden floor to the door of the room where he was staying in. Luckily, it was right off the kitchen, so she didn't have to walk far or risk spilling his steaming stew. Gingerly, she knocked on the tall wood door. She could hear his footsteps approaching. Her heart seemed to pound faster. Why was this?
