Alfred seemed to be plagued with nightmares whenever he slept at the castle. Not long after he'd drifted away to dream land he found himself being bombarded with similar images of the count, of Sarah, and now of the professor's mangled body, and Alfred's bed mate, Herbert, fulfilling his fantasies upon him and very much against his will.

Maybe Herbert wasn't so bad? Herbert was an absolute fiend! Alfred was pinned to the bed. Herbert straddled him. It was just like that first time, only there was no one to stop the vampire from gnawing on his neck like he were a bone being stripped of flesh. Each motion of Herbert's jaw working against his neck was pure agony. Those teeth dug deeper and deeper, fresh, hot waves of pain coursing from his neck all the way down to his toes. His head felt like it were going to explode. The pressure was too much. Too much. And then Herbert was reaching for his belt line, snaking his hand into his pants, and-

"Oh God!"

Alfred sat straight up, a thin film of sweat coating his body. His heart was racing. His breaths came ragged. He touched at his neck franticly. No blood. No open wounds. There was a distinct bulge in his pants, however, which Alfred acknowledged with a mild flushing of the face. Herbert shifted on the bed beside him, but made no comment on his outburst. Alfred heaved a heavy sigh.

A dream. It was just a dream.

No, a nightmare! To call it a dream would mean it were something he'd enjoyed!

The professor's disparaging voice fluttered through his mind. Shame on both of you. Shame. He'd reacted then, too.

"What is wrong with me," Alfred whispered to himself, absently running a hand through his curly brown hair. His weary eyes stared tiredly up at the canopy of the bed, then out at the forms of furniture outlind by the trace amount of light filtering in through the curtains.

He didn't even give it a second thought. He pushed off the covers and touched his feet to the floor. The stone was cold against his bare skin, but he did his best to ignore it as he slowly padded toward the window. He could feel the draft as he approached, and when he stood before the outlet in the wall, he extended a hand and drew it back a sliver, allowing a thin stream of light to cascade into and illuminate a sector of the room. Alfred followed the light's trajectory over to Herbert's dresser, but soon his gaze was drawn by the vampire himself, who was narrowly glaring at him from beneath the blankets, which he'd drawn nearer to his body in a knee jerk reaction from the unwanted guest being let in the room. They held their gaze a moment until Herbert turned away, seemingly satisfied that Alfred was not meaning to make any attempt at escaping.

What a mystery that creature was to him. He'd shared many beds with the professor before, had never thought twice of it. Yet being near this thing was enough to send him into a panic, and to rile up things within him he never even knew were there. What it was, he didn't know. He was certain it wasn't quite the same as the way Herbert felt for him. It had to be something to do with his looks. With that long hair and thin frame, and the way he sauntered around . . . why, he looked like a woman. That had to be it. He wouldn't feel so conflicted if it were anyone else. He hadn't for the count, or for the professor. It had to be Herbert's effeminacy. That, or Alfred harbored a secret passion for being dominated over. He shuddered at the thought. He wasn't sure which sin was worse.

Spurred on by these dark thoughts, Alfred tugged gently on the curtains, parting them a little more, then sticking his fingers between the blinds so that he could see outside. He made sure the light fell short of the bed before he put his eyes to the opening and gazed out across the snow stained landscape. The sun was out now, bright and strong. The clouds from the night before were gone. Fresh snow no longer fell. It was a clear day. A beautiful day. The snow on the ground was melting, though Alfred could still see the mess where he'd fallen and Herbert had helped him up. He scanned the ground for where Herbert had thrown his clothes, but he could not locate them. Had some monster out there dragged them off? Vampires? Werewolves?

Alfred shivered at the thought. Werewolves. Vampires. Sarah. Was she still out there? Had she made it back? Would he ever see her again? Herbert had promised that he would, but he wasn't sure what to make of it anymore. If she was caught out there, it would have been over. She'd be gone. But then, that wouldn't be Herbert's fault, now would it?

He could have gone after her, Alfred thought, turning from the outdoors and looking back to the bed. Herbert was still turned from him, but the way his breaths rose and fell gave away that he had yet to go back to sleep. Alfred bit his lip. But he didn't. Of course he didn't. He feels nothing for her. It's . . . me . . . he wants. . . .

Alfred released his hold on the blinds and then the curtains, and slowly made his way back to the bed. He lay on his back and pulled the blanket over him, leaving himself to stare up at the canopy of the bed once more. His head felt heavy, but he didn't give in to the urge to close his eye lids. He stayed quiet, ears peeled, listening to the vampire who lay just a foot or so away breath. He was certain that he was being listened to as well. It was almost like a game.

But Alfred had never been very good at games, and he was the first to lose his resolve. He shifted uncomfortably, quietly moaned, and turned himself onto his side, so that he was gazing at Herbert's back.

"What is it, love?" Herbert asked softly, his tone gentle, not at all sounding like his eyes had looked.

Alfred swallowed hard. He had thought Herbert had somehow read his mind, or could tell from his movements that he'd been looking at him. That wasn't it. His dressing table was not far off, beside the bath, across from the bed. He could see his own reflection in the mirror.

"I . . . I'm not . . . I'm not sure I know who I am anymore," Alfred admitted, voice low, barely a whisper. Herbert could hear him with crystal clarity. "I'm . . .

"Ah, but you're a young man, Alfred. Young men rarely know who they are. You probably never knew to begin with."

"I wanted to be a . . . a vampire hunter." Alfred's eyes fell. Herbert hadn't stiffened up or anything. He didn't even seem frightened. The one who had jerked the bed was himself, his own guilt bleeding through for having been out to kill someone who had been rather reasonable to him since their misgiving.

"When I was boy, all I wanted was to get out of here and spread my wings a little, live life my way for a while," Herbert said, continuing to watch Alfred through the mirror. "That's what all young people want, Alfred. That's all you wanted. You didn't come out here to kill vampires. You came out here to see the world. This was just the fastest way to do it."

Alfred made no vocal response, but his eyes told all. Herbert was right. He knew it. Alfred knew it. That was why he couldn't bring himself to confirm it. He felt too empty. Too broken. Why couldn't he do anything right? Somehow he'd managed to mess up finding himself. Why was he such a failure?

"You'll find your place, Alfred," Herbert said, rolling onto his back and sparing Alfred a pitying look. "You just need a little more time." He reached for Alfred's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Moping about it isn't going to help, though. Rest your mind and go back to sleep."

Herbert retrieved his hand and rested them over his chest. Alfred watched his eyelids slip closed while his own hand tingled where Herbert's had been. The vampire really needed to cut that out. It was worrisome the way his responses were starting to go.

Then again, it wasn't Herbert's fault, now was it? Herbert was doing his thing, acting how he usually did, quiet, gentle, persevering. It was Alfred's fault he was having these perverse, as the professor had put it, responses.

Alfred sighed. He felt that he was starting to go crazy. The sooner night came, the better. He needed to get far away from here. He needed to go home and forget about this nightmare. He needed to find himself. But worrying could come later. Tiredness was setting in, and with a slow shake of his head, Alfred pushed the thoughts from his mind and drifted back off to a restful sleep.