Long whispy silver-gray locks hung low over a pair of dulling red eyes. 'Two years. . .' the vampire now known as Dracula thought. 'Is that really all that it has been? Only two years?' Located below the cellar, in the deepest most dungeon of the Hellsing estate, the former vampire king sat. . . bound by more than just the iron cuffs and chains holding the monstrous creature to the dark dingy wall in the cell. Dull red eyes stared blankly upon the floor as a slight tremor took over his form.

Cold thick iron cuffs cut into his wrists held firmly to the wall by a thick metal chain. Equally restraining shackles held his legs down, bolted directly to the cold unforgiving floor. The thing that is the most uncomfortable, however, is the bit deeply wedged between his teeth, cutting his lips and cheeks where contact is made. The coppery taste of his own blood is the only he's tasted since his actual bonding to Abraham, just a few months ago. The once great Count, reduced now to nothing more then a shell of his former glory. A husk, simply cast away and left to rot where it falls. Nothing more than a lowly slave. The welcome numbing feeling was beginning to take hold, a sign that dawn approaches. 'It feels as if I've been in this hell for so much longer. . .' Dracula thought to himself as he slowly began to loose his grip on consciousness while the last few minuets of night fell between his fingers and into dawn. . . just as the sands of an hour glass slips away.

The first rays of dawn begin to pierce the red of the morning sky as blonde graying lashes flutter open and toward the window as Abraham thinks to himself, 'A storm must be coming.' Still looking out of the window and into the crimson sky the newly knighted and renamed leader of the Hellsing organization sits up pushing the covers back and off of his aging form. "Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning." He says aloud to nobody in particular, reciting the old saying.

Looking over to the clock he notices the time 7:36 am, he had slept in again today. It seemed that in the past few months, since his bonding with the vampire Dracula, that despite all of the sleep he had gotten that rest, in and of itself, still eluded him. At first it was all a part of the plan. . . all routine, but now. . . now it was so very different from what they had all planned. Now he sat here exhausted, all from being bound to the beast below. The team of them; Dr. Seward, Harker, Holmwood. . . even Mina helped in bringing Dracula back to England with the intentions of killing the beast. That is precisely what they attempted to do. . . for 2 years. Finally, after exhausting every idea that had come to mind the men changed their sights from ultimately killing him to cursing/binding him. They did not, however, mean to bind him to someone. A slip of the knife and introduction of blood opened up Pandora's box of possibilities to use the vampire. And now here Abraham sits in front of the massive windows before a blood red sky not a mere man, but the master of a monster.

'What other choice do I have?' In the span of nearly two years they attempted to kill the vampire, but were ultimately unsuccessful. Tactics that had returned all of the others to the earth in the form of ash failed him. As if the ultimate punishment is his inability to die. Soon, their means of trying to end the creature and the amount of time it was taking to do so became cruel in the eyes of Abraham, even for the likes of Dracula. He could see, after a while, the twinge of fear, shudder of pain, and long underlying self hate in they eyes of the Count. The vampires eyes are what gave him away to those who looked.

All in all he was happy to leave the beast be in his newly acquired roll. It would take a lot of adjusting on both ends, but Abraham was glad he would not have to endure the excruciating cries of agony or going down mid day to see the vampires cheeks stained red from painful bloody tears. Being connected to the vampire also had its perks, he had learned so much from their bond alone. Enough to fill 3 journals in the few short months. 'Today,' Abraham thought . . . 'or rather tonight I think I'll release him from the cell and acquaint him to his new. . . Un-life.'

Finally, standing from the bed Abraham leans back cracking his spine readying himself for the day. Bright blue eyes scanned the floor as a pair of dull red orbs, four floors below, strained upward before cascading closed for the last time this morning. A whisper of "Master" floating lightly within the cell.