Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Tanz der Vampire. This is just a product of my randomness.

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The castle was ominous. There was no other way to describe it—dark, gothic, dreary—ominous.

"The perfect place for vampires to hideout in!" Abronsius crowed enthusiastically as they wandered the corridors. Alfred had to agree—the atmosphere definitely matched the way he felt whenever he thought of vampires. It also made his heart sink, to think of Sarah, beautiful Sarah, trapped somewhere in this horrible place. Abronsius' chatter suddenly stopped.

Alfred blinked out of his reverie and saw that the Professor had come upon a huge set of double doors and thrown them open. Beyond, brightly illuminated by countless lamps and candles, were walls and walls of bookcases filled to bursting with tomes of every imaginable color and size. Oh, no… Alfred thought, groaning inwardly. Not a library!

"Books! Hundreds of thousands of books!" The Professor's cry was positively euphoric, and he swooped into the room and headed right for a stack that stood nearby. Ecstatic, he started walking along the bookcases, eagerly devouring the titles of the books as he passed them.

"Professor…" Alfred called timidly, stepping through the doorway. "We have to find Sarah…"

Alfred spoke too late—Abronsius was now lost in his own world.

"Aristotle, Empedocles, Aeneas, Parmenides, Nichomachos, Diogenes, Antiochus, Maimonides, Marcus Aurelius, Augustus, Tacitus, Tibull, Plato, Peregrinus, Aquinus, Caesar, Cicero, Cato, Kant, Hegel, Spinoza, Copernicus, Paracelsus, Leibniz, Crusius, Hume, Locke, Hobbes, Mendelssohn, Descartes, Montaigne, Hamilton…"

Alfred began to panic. If he didn't stop the Professor before he got on a roll, they'd most likely be standing in the library for days, until Abronsius had finally run out of authors to list.

"Uh, professor? It's going to get dark soon…"

Abronsius plowed ahead, working himself almost into a joyful frenzy.

"William Shakespeare, Humboldt, Eckehart, Moliere, Machiavelli, Erasmus, Schelling, Kierkegard, Hans Sachs, Mary Shelley, La Fontaine, Tagore, Pliny, Da Gama, Bottecelli, Herder, Marlow, Poe and Livius, Robespierre, Homer, Seneca, Da Vinci, Cervantes, Bocaccio, Dante, Marquis de Sade, Don Juan, Frivoles, Galantes, Lord Byron, Goethe, Eckermann, Giordano Bruno, Lessing, Thomas Moore…"

Alfred took a deep breath. It was time to take a stronger approach to this, if he wanted to be reunited with Sarah.

"Professor…we need to find her."

"Aristotle, Empedocles, Aeneas, Parmenides, Nichomachos, Diogenes, Antiochus, Maimonides, Marcus Aurelius, Augustus, Tacitus, Tibull, Plato, Peregrinus, Aquinus, Caesar, Cicero, Cato…"

Dear god, Abronsius was starting over with his list! That's it…no more Mr. Nice Guy…

"PROFESSOR!"

Dead silence filled the room. Abronsius stood blinking at Alfred in amazement for several minutes, and even Alfred himself was surprised at the outburst. The Professor slowly walked over to him, his expression serious, and placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"Dear boy, you really need to learn how to control your anger."

Alfred didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. Instead of doing either, he said, very calmly, "We have to find Sarah." Abronsius patted him on the shoulder.

"Yes, yes, getting to it…" He went back to the books.

Exasperated, Alfred was about to say a few choice words when, in the distance, soft singing came echoing down the halls.

"Sarah!" Alfred cried, bolting out of the library. The only sound now was his footsteps receding into the distance, and the steady drone of the Professor's voice.

"Kant, Hegel, Spinoza, Copernicus, Paracelsus, Leibniz, Crusius, Hume, Locke, Hobbes, Mendelssohn, Descartes, Montaigne, Hamilton…"