A sarcastic grin at the men standing in front of him, barely visible over Abraham's slumped shoulder. "And you're so eager to give up your friend to me. What a shame. But you did trade for the boy; perhaps you can raise him not to be so foolish as his father is."
Pale faces watched him, glancing down to Abraham and back up. Exhausted, they were exhausted, numbed...the fun with them was nearly over. But there was still a bit more to be had. "His father did nothing but give him a coat. The poor child was down in the cold for hours. Hungry, thirsty, tired...you should take better care of him." Eyes narrowed. "And I suggest you do so now."
They were reluctant to leave, to abandon Abraham to him...but Van Helsing spoke, his voice tired, low, and hopeless.
"Just...leave, please. You can't save me, and I'd rather...Samuel...take him away." A deep breath, and the man continued, "Sam...I love you very much..." He seemed ready to say more, but Alucard had had quite enough of this. He wanted the man to himself to play. It had taken all night to arrange the trade to his satisfaction, and it was time to gloat. With a sinister chuckle, he broke into Abraham's halting speech.
"Leave, now, or you'll have much more to explain to poor Sam." A red eye gleamed out at them. "Such as why his father is turning grey and bits are falling off." That threat was enough to chase them away, and once the three sets of footsteps had stumbled their way upstairs, he turned Abraham roughly in his lap, looking at the man closely.
He looked simply dreadful, and the heart raced, the sound thin and lacking in power. Blue eyes cracked open, peering at him hopelessly, resigned.
"And you'll turn me into a ghoul, I suppose."
"Do you deserve anything more? You murdered my child, went to Romania to destroy my family, drove a stake in me to haul me here, and then spent the last month taunting me." Much as he'd done with the son, Dracula took a long, careful lick up the man's neck, flicking the tip across the eyelashes and watching the man flinch with a deep satisfaction.
"You then left your son alone with me in the house, with no warning and no care. You brought you two friends with you, opening them up to the danger I posed as well. Had I truly been the creature you seem to think I am, you would all be dead, as would you entire household, and I'd be off to pay a visit to the Harkers." A contemplative hum, as he watched the grey-faced human sag even further. "And now, your child is free and unharmed, your friends damaged by nothing more major than a blood donation. You, yourself, are weaked but in a few days you'd be entirely recovered. And I haven't so much as frightened a single soul in your household."
"And you called ME a monster. I may be a vampire, but I have been far more honorable than you have ever dreamt of being yourself."
A snort, as the vampire arranged his new toy a bit more comfortably on his lap. "You don't seem to understand that concept, do you? Honor? I have taken you in exchange for you son. I agreed not to bite your son if I was fed, and you are now in his place. The agreement holds; you have been taken as a substitute and I accepted that." A snort. "And now you think I shall break my word and bite you. YOU might be a craven and lying individual, but I am not. I shall not bite you." Abraham's shaggy head rose, and he appeared ready to argue, and Dracula cut him off. "I said I would not bite you. I have not said I would not hurt you. You are a human, far weaker than I am, and there is no honor in injuring you without just cause. But you have placed yourself under my control, and if you rebel, I consider that cause."
A sigh, and Dracula made himself more comfortable against the cool stone wall. Silence, as he let the man ponder what he had said. The seeds of doubt were well-sown, and while the man had to KNOW he was a cruel creature, evil...there was now doubt. Abraham was turned around, pulled back to rest against his chest, and he let time tick by, letting the man's terror abate enough that fatigue and stress and blood-loss affected Abraham's body. In an off-hand, musing-to-himself tone, aware that Abraham could not see his great smile, he continued.
"For how many weeks have you declared yourself my Master? Kept me badly underfed, away from my coffin and the comforts of it as a bed, kept me uncomfortable, lonely, impossibly hungry...isolated from all that I needed? No one to talk to but you, and you had naught but insults and threats." Another long wait as the import sank through Abraham's head. "I think it is only mete that you spend some time as my own "unwilling guest." I won't leave you to starve for weeks, you're far too frail. Nor will I drive a stake into you, or badly injure some part of you so that every movement is pure agony. No...I am not so cruel."
A growl. "Perhaps I am more humane because I am not, as you have so proudly and arrogantly proclaimed for many weeks, a "human." But I do wish you to understand the loneliness and loss I have experienced, at least to a small extent. After all, you murdered my children, and yours has nothing wrong with him that a warm bath, a meal, and sleep would not set right. I am not so cruel as you, but you will be easing my loneliness and experience your own."
Rising lithely under the silent and depressed man, he tossed Abraham casually over a shoulder and went to find his coffin. He knew it was close...and he hoped for the sake of his game that it was undamaged. Had they broken it, game or not, he'd rip out the man's intestines. Slowly.
No, it was intact. Abraham was dumped on the floor unceremoniously as Dracula stepped quickly to the coffin, red eyes drinking in the shape, hands running gently and smoothly down the sides. Undamaged, only slightly dusty...and he deliberately voiced a small cry of relief. Abraham, tired and unbalanced as he was, unable to think clearly...Abraham was already feeling guilt, already uncertain, and twisting that knife a little bit more was certainly in his plans. Soil, too, he'd need that. Not as paramount as the coffin, but important nonetheless. Had Van Helsing brought any?
Unwilling to leave the man alone, he scooped him up again, with a distracted "Silence" as the man grunted in discomfort. Quick steps retraced the passage, checking into rooms, and it was only moments before he found the room with the boxes. Dropping Abraham again, he pulled open a few of them, finding them full of rich earth, pungent and full of the dry sharp scent of his home. He couldn't stop himself, he buried his arms in the dirt to the elbow, moaning slightly in his pleasure and relief, aware that he had an audience and hoping that Abraham felt a bit more guilt.
The man was in no condition to move, not now. And the room was not ready to be "his", either. It took time, but the stakes were broken, the silver kicked to the floor drain and left to splash dully in the sewer below, any holy item small enough to fit following close behind. Through it all, though he kept an eye on Abraham, the man seemed content to simply lie there. Alive, yes, but the heartbeat was weak and the skin was gaining a faint bluish tone from the chill of the floor. The bastard could suffer a bit of discomfort.
The coffin was gently placed on the floor, ringed about with the boxes of earth, and Dracula sighed in a luxurious anticipation. To Abraham's clear shock, the man was scooped up as well. Settling himself into the worn and comfortable padding of his coffin was a delight, already easing the fatigue and weakness, and Dracula stretched out comfortably, ignoring the man while he did so. The lump on his legs was the full weight of a grown man, but neglible to a vampire. The sun would be up within the hour, and once comfortable, he pulled the man down against him.
Abraham was shocked, frightened, and it was so delightful to have the human realize that he'd be trapped...in a coffin...next to a vampire. Lovely, so lovely. And with a wicked smile invisible to the human in the dim room, he reached up to shift the lid across them both. Listening to the shallow breaths of his prey, he frowned briefly, then shifted the lid again to allow a gap and fresh air. Done, he settled to relax and enjoy the sounds of his terrified, despairing company.
Company whose teeth were shortly chattering, and whose heart occasionally faltered and jumped. Humans...they were so very fragile. The man had truly given more blood than he ought to have, and he was nearly dying from the blood loss, cold, and stress of his situation. With a growling grumble, Dracula forced himself out of the coffin. Not even ten minutes of enjoyment, of soaking in the heat of the miserable, frightened man...and he was rising again. The coat was in the hallway where he'd left it, and it was not long before he was wrapping Abraham in it.
The man was aware enough to protest slightly, and Dracula snapped at him irritably. "You are a fool. You have given so much blood that your body can't even handle the chill of a basement." Truthfully, it wasn't the basement so much as the head-to-toe contact with his own cold flesh that had driven the man to shivering cold, but he wished to emphasize how weak humans were. "You may have given no comforts to me, not a single blanket to lay myself upon, but I am no human." A few moments to wrap the man's coat about him...and then footsteps.
He nearly hissed in irritation, but fought the emotion down, hearing only one set of steps. They hesitated, pausing at the foot of the steps, and Seward's voice spoke, cracking on the first word. "Ak...A..Abraham? Dracula?"
"We are here." Leaving his prey to shiver in the coffin, Dracula went to find what sort of entertainment the man was ready to provide.
Not entertainment, but...a mug of soup? He paused a few feet from the man, watching him go even paler and sway slightly. Brave, if foolish, of him to come down here. "I did not make any promises of your safety. Why are you here?" Not a growl, but enough annoyance to show he'd rather the man was gone.
"Abraham...he gave a lot of blood. Too much. He'll need this." A trembling hand held out the mug, and under the voice, Dracula was pleased to sense the unspoken thought "...if he's alive."
A snort, and his white hand moved swiftly and unexpectedly to gracefully lift the mug from the man's grip. "He'll need more than one. And a blanket." Withdrawing quickly, he let the grin stretch his cheeks as soon as his back was to Seward. What he'd just said was entirely out of character for the evil, vicious beast they thought they'd had contained. Another layer of doubt to place in their minds, another reason for them to question themselves.
Abraham sat huddled in the coffin, shivering with cold and stress, head sagging. Had he attempted to get out of it and found himself too weak? Perhaps. As long as he lived, well, Dracula couldn't really care how miserable he was. But his ability to live was in question at the moment.
"Seward brought this. And I do not starve my prisoners." A lie, he'd starved many of them, and a few he'd given dead bodies and the choice of cannibalism or death by starvation, out of a cruel curiousity. After all, he'd learned the bounds of what a human body could handle through practice on his own prisoners, before and after his own death. But Van Helsing could be made to wonder...
The man's hands shook so that he could not even feed himself, and Dracula found himself holding the mug of steaming beef broth and bits of meat for Abraham. It was slow, and the man kept darting glances as him, astonished but too cold and hungry to refuse the meal or question his intentions. Even so, it was a simple mug and soon empty.
"Is...is there anything else?" The man was a fool! His hands were clearly empty...oh. In the dark, it was unlikely the man could see more than his outline against the light of the doorway. Fool, though, to have hoped for more.
"No." But footsteps on the stairs again pulled him away. "But perhaps they did now."
Leaving Abraham, he returned to the stairs to find Seward burdened by a thick blanket, another mug in his hand. "This will help him, but no more. Not tonight." He was calm, amused by the human's bravery in coming down into the basement, alone, trying to help a friend that was believed to already be dead. The bravery changed quickly as he switched out the mugs, faster than the human expected or could accomodate with his cold-numbed fingers, and a dribble of broth ran over the top of the mug.
Fortunately, it was only the thinnest drop, for it burned and brought a snarl. Not risking dropping it and being splashed, Dracula swiftly crouched and set it on the floor, dropping the blanket and rising to grip Seward around his throat in a nearly fatally-tight grasp.
"Holy water? In the BROTH?" A snarl, and Seward's choked response reminded him that he'd better loosen his grip a bit. He'd have a minor blister, but no real harm had been done. Yet.
A fatalistic shrug from Seward, resigned to his fate. "It was worth a try. You damn monster, you move too fast." The last was said in a wheezing chuckle, and Dracula sighed, imbuing his voice with tones of fatigue and grumbling acceptance.
"You're a brave man, I suppose you did need to try. And it was cleverly done. Did Abraham know of this? It won't change his fate, but I've been honest with you, so do not lie to me."
"No, no." Seward's grim, sad eyes met his own, and it was child's play for the Count to detect the honesty there. "It was a final attempt, we had holy water, a small vial of it. I remembered it on the way back with the soup. We emptied the vial into the mug right before I brought it downstairs, Abraham wouldn't have known anything."
Curious, Dracula tilted his head, regarding the man before him with a falsely respectful gaze. "And what did you hope to accomplish?"
"To burn you, grab Abraham, and attempt to escape." Seward's honesty won him full marks, but the man was a fool, to give such information so freely.
"At best, you would have injured me, and I would have eaten you to heal myself. Possibly I would have eaten Abraham, too." A sigh, as a tutor would to a difficult student. "Abraham would have told you how foolish this was, but thanks to his own idiocy, he has an angry, tired vampire in his home and himself in its power. I don't know as I would have listened to anything he said even if he had warned you." Releasing the man entirely to sag bonelessly against the wall in front of him, Dracula stooped swiftly, taking the blanket and the mug.
"The Holy Water won't hurt him, not yet. And he needs the liquid. I'm not in the mood to kill anyone tonight, so go." Leaving the man to mull over both his own miraculous survival and the potential meanings of what he'd been told, Dracula grinned to himself. His back was to Seward, the man couldn't see his face...but he knew the man's own face would be a mask of confusion.
Here he was, the great and terrible monster...feeding his captive, requesting a blanket, and not killing Seward despite the man's own attempt to kill him.
Abraham was strong enough to drink the mug of beef broth without assistance this time, which was as well. Dracula had no intention of having any of that corrosive liquid touch his skin! The empty mug was on the floor, and before long, Dracula was stretched again in his coffin, his toy wrapped snuggly in the blanket and resting along his side. He couldn't resist a victorious rub of his cheek on the man's head, humming a bit in happiness at how well this was going.
To say Abraham and Seward were now confused and doubting was a tremendous understatement. In only a few hours of play, he'd shaken the pillars of their world. Perhaps there would be time for a few more vibrations before he slept.
"Why...why didn't you kill me?" A pause, and Abraham sorted out the questions that had to be racing through his mind. "Why...am I here?"
And time to lie, to lay another layer of doubt. "You are alive because I have eaten, and I am not threatened. I do not need to kill you. And you did not kill me when the chance presented itself." Granted, because the man had far worse plans in mind, but Dracula attempted the misdirection anyways. "You are uninjured because I am no longer trapped at the end of a corridor, starved and exhausted to near-delirium and too weak to rise. I am well-fed, and you no longer threaten me." Let his behavior earlier be seen as the bluffing of a frightened and worried creature, emphasize again how he'd been denied his coffin and soil and any sustenance. "You are here because I am lonely. You are only a human, not a child of mine...but I did not want to fall asleep again, alone in the dark."
With that final barb, he grinned up at the coffin lid. Twisting his head down, he rubbed his face gently across the man's head again, giving a contented and deep sigh. It was difficult to keep a laugh from rumbling that sigh as the humor fought to bubble out, but he managed. Abraham couldn't see the grin on his face, either. But time to fight that off, and assume a happy, calm expression. He'd fall asleep with that on his face, a faint smile directed down from his tilted head to Abraham...and let them see THAT when the men came back to rescue their friend.
"But...the food. The blanket. I...why?" The man was entirely baffled at his good fortune...and the sun would be up very soon. As far as Abraham knew, it might already have risen. Instead of responding, Dracula remained very still, faking sleep. After waiting a few minutes for a response, Abraham sighed, settling against him. The man was clearly too exhausted and too cold still to attempt to leave.
Dracula had no illusions about this, though. As soon as the man felt capable of doing so, Van Helsing would try to leave, or the others would come to "rescue" the man. And if he'd done his work well, they'd be far too confused about whether or not he was "evil" to stake him and be done. It was a risk, but he judged his risks well, and what was "life" without a little danger to add spice to it?
It would be interesting to see how they would keep him contained, how they would interact with him in the future. It had been a busy night, breaking down their emotional defenses, leaving them confused and uncertain. But what a productive night. Their clear terror and distress, their guilt and confusion, the sheer physical damage he'd forced them to inflict on themselves with the blood drawing...it was wonderful, an elixir for the wounded pride and frustration he'd experienced for far too long.
And the novelty of drawn, harvested, combined blood. That, too.
Such a wonderful night. And tomorrow night, he'd see what they had attempted for containment. Even if it worked, well, he had all of eternity to break it, and he'd sown more than enough doubt for them to be unwilling to treat him with much maliciousness.
Arthur might. But Seward and Abraham would know they had been spared, spared by what they had thought was a remorseless, murdering monster. They'd be changing their views of him, altering what they thought was appropriate behavior.
Silly fools. They'd been right the first time.
END
x x x x
I might go ahead and end this here. If you'd like the end tied off, Abraham does leave, they do decide not to kill Dracula, and instead of permanent imprisonment they offer him a chance to work with Abraham via a contract. Out of boredom and curiousity, he accepts. They bind him with a contract, and it's intriguing enough that he's content to remain in their service. He could break it any time, but it provides a change for him, and he enjoys tormenting the Van Helsings. Integra gets him and he mentions that the contract has remained unchanged since her father's time, and that's what I'm alluding to.
In other words, he's a vicious monster, but it suits his whims to allow the Hellsings to control him. Existence is boring, and they are far too much fun to play with and mislead.
I might go ahead and add more to it, but I'm content with where it's ended. Thanks for reading and thank you very much to the people that reviewed it, added it to the facebook via the review options, and that headed to my other stories out of curiousity. :)