Herbert knelt by the side door, but did not yet open it back up. The castle was bustling with energy. Footsteps above, footsteps below. The other vampires were out and about. Whether they were still searching for the humans or getting ready to return to their graves was anyone's guess. All Herbert knew was that it was going to be difficult to get Alfred along inside, especially with his clothes being in the state that they were in. Even being trace amounts, shed from mere scratches, the blood could draw unwanted attention.

"Alfred, I want you to undress," Herbert said, sitting the man down in a nearby corner and removing his hands from his body. Oh, did poor Alfred look like he'd seen a ghost, but Herbert refused to budge. He knew what the man was thinking, and he wasn't about to comment on it, because that's what he was thinking too, but it was going to be necessary to get them through the halls safely.

"Do as I say or you'll be vampire chow after all," Herbert reiterated. "Those bloodstained clothes were attract them like vultures to a carcass. We simply must discard them."

"All- All right. But . . . T-turn around. I won't do it if you're l-looking."

"Don't be stupid," Herbert snapped. "I'll look if I please. Now take them off before I help you along!"

Alfred should have known better than to attempt to order around a master vampire, though he had honestly not been expecting so much anger and grump from Herbert. What he'd seen of him in the bath had been quite frilly and girlish. This was an entirely different side of him that had been hidden, or repressed, for whatever reason. Which version was the real Herbert? Could vampires be bipolar?

"One. Two. Thr-"

"All right!"

Alfred whimpered, but he pushed himself forward onto his knees and began to shrug off his shirt. It was difficult. His clothes were wet and stuck to his skin, but he was finally able to pull it off and dump it onto the ground beside him. He looked up to Herbert, teeth chattering from the cold. The scratch marks were visible now, faint, but still trickling.

"Now the rest."

"But-"

"Do it!"

Alfred stood, then fumbled at his waist to undue his pants. His face flushed, conflicting with his fear, as he awkwardly slid his shoed feet from each leg until he was standing there in his underwear, nearly naked, and very cold. The scrapes on his legs looked worse than the ones on his arms, but it was nothing a little snow couldn't fix.

"Hold still," Herbert instructed, crouching down, packing up a handful of snow, and gently rubbing it against the wounds. Alfred was dead still. It hurt a little, but Herbert was pretty close to a private place, and given how the vampire had been behaving, Alfred had strong fears that he might try something.

But he didn't, and soon he'd stood up again, a fresh bunch of snow in his hand to rub into the scratches on his arms. It seemed, at least for now, that Herbert was behaving. It was kind of refreshing. Maybe it wasn't a trick. Maybe Alfred wasn't damned. Maybe he might make it out of there alive.

Somehow.

Herbert retrieved the clothes, wadded them up, and hurled them through the air. They flew. Not exceedingly far, mind you, but far enough to kick the smell of blood away from the castle. If anyone went looking for the source, they would find it out there, not inside, because the icy snow had done the trick, and had stifled the blood flow enough that little scabs could now form over, and who wanted to eat dried out crust?

"Now come, take my hand, and stay close. This is going to be tricky."

"But-"

"Now, Alfred. This isn't up for discussion!"

Poor Alfred, never able to get a word over the irritable vampire. He took Herbert's hand hesitantly, and allowed himself to be lead onward, through the door.

The air was tense with energy as Herbert slowly lead Alfred through the corridor. His own steps were light, but Alfred's were clumsy and nervous. It was a miracle that they hadn't already been discovered. It was likely by virtue of the soon to be rising sun that the guests in the castle were too preoccupied to realize that there was food in the castle once more. Herbert was able to tell when they were to pass, sniff them out, as it were, and keep his ears peeled for their footfall. Ten minutes and two stairwells later, they had finally made it to their destination. Herbert opened up the door, and with one final glance around the hall, pulled himself and Alfred inside.

The room was as he'd left it. Bed spread ruffled from his rolling around on it in fantasy the night before. Draws half open and disheveled from his attempts to find the perfect outfit for the ball. He'd changed his mind three times before settling on the blue dress suit he wore now.

Alfred stepped toward the bed while Herbert locked the door. Alfred found it a little difficult to take in how lavish the place looked. It was unlike anything else he'd seen in the castle. Most of the other rooms were covered in dust, which had gathered over the years as a result of neglect and disuse. This room was another story. It was clean. Fresh. Almost alive.

"Don't you sleep in coffins?" Alfred wondered quietly, sitting himself upon the edge of the soft bed.

"Oh. Yes. Well, Father insists on that, you see." Herbert wrinkled his nose. He didn't much like sleeping in a coffin at all. His bed was much more comfortable. But he had to make the old man happy. The count was a misery when he didn't have his old fashioned ways. "I'm rather fond of spending my time here though. I've had this room since I was a young boy. Even this bed here. Of course, it dwarfed me once upon a time. Seems so long ago to think on it now."

Herbert sighed and turned from Alfred, then stepped into a smaller outcropping of the room. Alfred's gaze followed the vampire as he walked, until he was out of sight, and Alfred was nearly completely turned around. So Herbert had lived here for most of his life. Unlife. Whatever. And for however long that was. He seemed to be of nobility. Had that been a birthright for him then as well? And for his father too? Had he been a count before he'd been a vampire?

These were questions he dared not ask, especially when the sound of water flittered through the archway.

"What are you doing in there?"

"Drawing you a bath," Herbert said. "You are filthy from your fall and you reek of dirt and sweat. You must wash up immediately."

You're not sleeping in my bed, dirty like a cave man!

"Oh," Alfred murmured. He galnced down at himself, only now realizing how badly off he looked, disheveled and cut up. He was also painfully aware of a certain material lacking on his body. "I'm afraid I haven't got a change of clothes."

Herbert appeared in the doorway, a thin smirk planted firmly on his face. "That's all right, love," he said dantily, "I wouldn't mind if you had to remain good and naked until your panties are clean and dry."

A look of sheer horror formed on Alfred's face. The professor wasn't there to rescue him anymore. He was all alone in this locked room with a rather friendly vampire who was once more rather overtly flirting with him. Alfred could barely believe it. He'd never come across anyone like this before. It was abnormal. It was unholy.

Yet there was something about it that piqued his curiosity. He recalled the count telling him when he'd first arrived that his morals were useless, and that if he could let them go, he could find happiness here. His thoughts drifted once more to a fear he'd had when he'd separated from the professor before he'd come across the old village. Headlines would read that a scientist was killed in Transylvania, but no one would read about or miss him. Alfred had a feeling that if he were to die, this creature before him would most certainly miss him. It was slightly heartening, and so Alfred laughed very, very meekly, and tried not to appear too appalled by Herbert's saucy language.

"But I suppose I could find something to lend you just as well," Herbert said with a dramatic sigh. "There's got to be something around here that'll fit."

Herbert was taller than Alfred, but it probably wouldn't matter too much. There were decades worth of clothing strewn about the room. There had to be something that would work. So he began to rummage through drawers, one after the other, pulling them open and shut in search of perfect sleep wear for his guest.

"Here we go," Herbert declared. He held out a gray pair of pants and a white shirt. "They're not perfect but they'll have to do. Go on now, the bath is ready for you. We woudln't want the water to get cold, now would we."

Alfred accepted the clothes, and stepped forward as he was ushered toward the bathroom. "There's no door . . ."

"Of course there's no door, it's my private bath," Herbert said with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, it's a nice view."

"Please don't look!"

"Oh fine, fine!" Herbert murmured with a throw of his arms. "You're no fun at all, Alfred. Stupid, stuffy humans."

Alfred swallowed hard and waited a few moments to be sure that Herbert would not renig on his promise before carefully stepping out of his underwear and carefully stepping into the tub. The water was already cooling off, but it was comfortable, and Alfred set himself to bathing, keeping a wary eye on the archway to the room in the meantime.

It was very difficult to keep himself from peeking into the bath to 'check' on Alfred, so Herbert busied himself with cleaning up his room while he waited for his guest to finish up. The room needed a good sprucing anyway. He'd really done a number on it between finding his outfit for the ball and something for Alfred to wear to sleep. Thankfully, finding something for himself was much easier. The top shelf of the dresser in front of his double bed yielded soft black pants and a silken long sleeved grey shirt.

Sparing a glance to the archway to be sure Alfred wasn't there, Herbert began to strip himself of his suit. It wasn't for his sake, of course. He would have loved to show off a little to Alfred. But he knew it would frighten him, and right now he wasn't really in the mood for frightened human. He was finding himself increasingly tired, and the bed seemed more and more inviting as the seconds ticked by.

Once he was dressed, he went to stand by the window and gazed out at the rising sun. It was just barely peaking out over the horizon. The other vampires were surely in their graves by now. And his father was likely down in the crypt as well. With or without Sarah. Herbert gently bit his lower lip. He really hoped Sarah would make it back. He'd sounded so sure of himself out there but there was a chance she wouldn't be able to find the way, and would burn up in the sun, her newborn vampire flesh unable to defend her.

Herbert lowered the blinds and drew shut the curtains. There wasn't much use worrying about it. There wasn't anything he could do at any rate.

"I put out the candle in the bathroom," Alfred said quietly as he stepped through the archway. Herbert did not immediately look back at him, so Alfred stood there awkwardly, observing the vampire by the window, unsure what to make of the docile environment.

"Much appreciated, love," Herbert said at last, turning to Alfred and observing him with a melancholy expression. "You look much better now. Not so pale or sickly looking now that you've freshed up."

"I wasn't pale," Alfred argued quietly.

"You were, you were," Herbert replied, moving to sit himself on the edge of the bed while stifling a yawn. Didn't want to show off the fangs.

Alfred decided it wasn't worth arguing, and instead moved toward the door, whose knob he tested. It was locked. It only turned a little before clicking softly. "You sure this is enough protection? Can anyone get through?"

"I doubt it. Besides, no one ever comes in here without permission, and if anyone ried, I would hear it." He paused a moment, silently watching Alfred pace a circle. "That's why you're sleeping on the other side of the-"

"Ontheotherside?" Alfred, eyes wide, stared at Herbert, then at the bed, as it slowly sunk in that he would be sharing it with the vampire.

"Yes," Herbert said slowly, softly, amused, "on the other side of the bed. . . . If someone does come in, they won't see you."

Oh God, just how close and snuggly was Herbert planning on being? Alfred turned his gaze away and murmured, "B-but . . . but can't I just . . . sleep on the floor over there? Or under the bed? Or-"

"Alfred, don't be ridiculous." Herbert stomped the hard, stone floor for good measure. "Doesn't matter how tired you are, you wouldn't sleep on this."

"But . . ."

"Look, I haven't hurt you yet, have I? Alfred, please don't make me beg."

'But I don't-"

"I won't take no for an answer," Herbert said, standing and moving to Alfred's side. He placed an arm around the man's shoulders and guided him around the bed to the place he was insisting he sleep. He forced him onto the edge, gave him a stern glare, and stormed stiffly back to where he'd come from. "Just go to sleep, Alfred," he pleaded, falling backward onto the mattress and splaying his blond hair out upon the bed spread. "I'm tired. It's dawn. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't have the energy to molest you."

Alfred was slowly becoming accustomed to this sort of teasing, but that didn't make it any less frightening a thought. Being molested by the count's freakish son. It would be terrible. Horrible. A nightmare come true.

But Herbert had promised that he wouldn't touch him, and Alfred didn't have much other choice than to believe him. Dejectedly he pulled back the covers and stuck his legs beneath. He then watched as Herbert, relieved, did the same, and turned from him to look in the direction of the bathroom. Alfred turned toward the window. It seemed appropriate they not look at each other.

"Don't you try to sneak away while I sleep now either," Herbert warned, reaching for the candle on the side table nearest him and putting it out. "It's too dangerous to go without an escort. I'll know if you get up."

Alfred sighed, but gave no further answer. He wouldn't go anywhere. He was scared, not stupid. And anyway, things seemed to be going well.

He'd thought he'd been as good as dead-or undead-when he'd agreed to return to the castle, but so far he'd been safely smuggled inside, drawn a warm bath, given clean clothes, and given a comfortable bed to sleep in, even if he did have to share it with Herbert. They were all things that he had at first greatly protested, but in truth were generous gifts, and completely undeserved considering all the things he'd done to cause problems at Castle von Krolock since he'd arrived.

It was the strangest thing, but Alfred found himself feeling sort of . . . guilty. He'd been quite rude about everything. It was no wonder Herbert seemed short with him at times. He would have to apologize when they woke. He would have to thank his host for his kindness.

Because, it seemed, that Herbert just might not be the monster that he'd thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, the count's son wasn't all that bad.