Blood. The tantalizing smell was so close. Vlad felt his fangs lengthen in his mouth, finally he would get to taste it. He tipped the glass, he wanted to sip it slowly, it could taste weird at first even if it was the thing he craved, perhaps he had to get accustomed to it, he thought. But the second the liquid touched his lips he couldn't hold himself back from downing the entirety of the glass.

His first taste of the red liquid, while not fresh from the source was more than Vlad could've ever imagined. The doubts and reservations he had were wiped away, that last bit of him clinging onto humanity before the transformation, not wanting to give into blood - gone. Even if he wanted to now, he couldn't resist it anymore.

It was hardly anything, he wanted more! It left his body both satisfied, finally getting what it wanted all this time and feeling incredibly famished. Now that he tasted blood, he couldn't go back, nothing else could compare.

Vlad woke up with a startle and almost knocked his head against the top of his coffin. Right, he had to get used to the new restriction now. He sat up and got out of his new coffin which his father had proudly showed him a few days ago.

He heard the clock in the hallway upstairs chime four times. It was afternoon, the sun was still out but you couldn't tell from inside the dark, drab crypt. Not the time for vampires to get up yet. Even though Vlad had been feeling tired during the day and restless during the night the last few weeks leading up to the transformation, he still needed time to adjust to his new sleeping schedule now. And instead of dreams haunting him or letting him escape for a little while, events from last night kept swirling inside his head.

Like when he took his revenge on his mother…

Magda had thought Vlad just didn't want to share Robin and Chloe but still share their first drink together. Instead of giving her a glass of their blood, they made her drink a glass of poisoned blood. Just a bit of garlic mixed in, not enough to kill but enough to hurt a little, masked with something else so that you couldn't recognize the smell - a special tincture of Renfield's. Vlad didn't want to think about the gratification he felt at his mother's pain too much, he was just glad he could show her what happened when you threatened his breathers. His, only for pretense for a short time, he reminded himself.

As soon as she was fine again, Madga made herself scarce but before she turned into a bat to soar into the dark night sky, she had turned to Vlad, caressed his cheek and said with what almost sounded like pride in her voice: "Didn't think you had it in you to poison your own mother."

He wasn't ready to examine what any of these statements or feelings meant yet.

And the blood he drank afterwards…

He knew now, if he had gotten just one drop of Robin's or Chloe's blood he wouldn't have been able to stop, he would've killed them. How foolish of him was it to think he could've restrained himself? In the heat of your first real bloodlust nothing else mattered. As a freshly transformed vampire you had no way of controlling the thirst yet, it was purely instinct and Vlad both secretly thanked and condemned his father for sending the breathers away.

The rest of the night had been a blur, Vlad felt like he was only just coming back to reality like someone who got drunk for the first time and woke up with a hangover trying to remember all the pieces. He knew the other vampire guests had been there congratulating him, celebrating among him before the sun came up and they all left. He probably met many other important families that he shouldn't forget about and who he should know but he could barely focus on anything, he hadn't expected it all to be such an overwhelming rush.

His powers had been simmering just underneath the surface, wanting to be used, Vlad had to be careful not to let them show too much. It was said due to his nature of being the Chosen One in the prophecy, his powers would be possibly stronger than of any other vampires before and that little fact wouldn't do too well getting out into the vampire world just yet. Vampires didn't take kindly to being shown there could be someone superior to themselves, especially not a 16 year old newly transformed vampire who hadn't even wanted to be one in the first place.

Now that he was up, Vlad could feel his throat starting to ache again, he had drained five whole glasses of blood last night but it still didn't feel like enough. He knew about the Dracula appetite, it hasn't been much by their family's standards. Vlad has heard the story of his dad killing three breathers at his transformation many times and his own appetite showed he wasn't opposed to that either...

His mind wandered back to Chloe and Robin. Vlad hoped they made it out unscathed. But he didn't know what to do now, should he contact them? Should he leave them be? What should you do in this situation, apologize?

"Sorry, my evil mother found you and presented you like a buffet who wanted to drain you dry with me and sorry for actually wanting it and almost doing so!"

Vlad had no idea how to go on from here. Before the transformation he was so set on the idea that nothing would change and stubbornly thought he wouldn't let it come that far that he didn't think ahead. That version of him felt so far away, like a distant friend you haven't seen in years and yet it had been just yesterday. But one thing hasn't changed, something Vlad was still convinced of:

I don't want to lose them.

Jonathan evaded his father's fist and ducked under. He blocked another attempt. In one swift movement he caught his father's arm and brought down the stake to his chest. Shortly before contact he stopped it right in the air, inches away from his dad's heart.

"Great, my boy!" Eric van Helsing laughed and patted his son on the shoulder. "You are getting better and better."

They moved apart and Jonathan threw the stake into one of their piles that were almost endless at their slayer's headquarters. His dad had been training him to fight for two years now. Vampires were faster and stronger so slayers had to find other ways to improve their ways and how to get to survive an encounter with the undead creature. Or better said, how to have better chances of them not killing you immediately.

"So when do I finally get to go with you and hunt a vampire?"

Van Helsing sighed. This conversation again. "I told you, it's too dangerous, we have to train more."

"I have been training for almost three years now and I'm already better than you, what are you waiting for, I'm ready!" Jonathan shouted and put his hands in the air. It wasn't fair, back in the days his dad used to force him to go to his weird "hunting" trips to (try) slay the Count and now that Jonno was determined and ready he kept putting him off.

"No, you're not, you're cocky and that will get you killed and that is one thing I can't ever let happen! If you died that would be on me!" Van Helsing yelled. Jonno looked at his father with wide eyes, he had never seen him get loud like this before.

Truth was, Eric van Helsing was scared. He might've prepared Jonno to slay vampires his whole life but they've never actually done it. The times he took Jonno with him on his pathetic attempts to slay Count Dracula were really only that; pathetic. Van Helsing had to admit it to himself, he had been arrogant and thought, him, a rogue, inexperienced slayer and his teenaged son, could kill one of the most powerful and deadly vampires there were. And he should be glad they both had gotten away with their lives all those times.

"I will not put you in any more danger, you're still young. You have your whole slayer career ahead of you, if you're not stupid and get yourself killed within your first vampire." He poked Jonno in the chest with one of the stakes. Jonno saw how serious his dad was and kept quiet.

He knew being a slayer was a dangerous job and none of his relatives had lived long. Most slayers were young, in their 20s and 30s when you're at your fittest, not many actually continue beyond that. If they haven't been killed by a vampire yet, the smartest thing would be to retire. As they get older, they get less strong and fast and that could prove to be absolutely fatal in a fight with a vampire. It was a tough job, both physically and mentally exhausting, many slayers will end up paranoid (not that Jonno hasn't called his dad that in the past) and never really leave the job. They stay a slayer until the day they die, which was often sooner than later unfortunately.

Van Helsing turned away and stashed the stakes they had been practicing away. It was a clear signal that they were done for today and there wouldn't be any more discussion. They cleaned up the HQ before they left and put some stakes into their bags and pockets. The worst thing would be not to be prepared when a creature of the night crossed your path and struck. Jonno recalled what his dad said after he instructed him to always wear stakes on him, even in daylight, the first time and he called his dad, once again, paranoid: "That's not being paranoid, son, it's being vigilant."

They drove home and when Eric parked his car next to their caravan, a person stood in front of it, a bag on the ground and their hands clasped together. Jonno squinted his eyes against the sun to make out the figure.

"Mum?"

A/N: I could just copy and paste my last author's note lmao but here I am, your worst person at updating! I had most of this written down for a while but I didn't want to end it on that note but it took too long to continue so now I'm just posting it. I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long and I hope you're still with me. I always appreciate your favourites/follows and comments, they always motivate me. I'm not planning on quitting this story anytime soon but you guys probably have to be very patient with me. Thank you for reading and I hope this chapter isn't too disappointing!