To the people who thought this was just going to be a bunch of Sarah/Krolock fluff: I'm sorry.

But, to be serious, I don't aim for this to be super-duper fluffy. Obviously there's some high-key weirdness in the Sarah/Krolock dynamic and that's what I'm here for. As we move into these "after the musical bits" bear in mind that this is just my interpretation of their dynamic, and if you've got your own that's super cool! I hope you stay with me for my "after musical bits" because I've got some ideas and what to explore them. And maybe a few of them are fluffy. But a lot of them are weird. Stay tuned to find out what that means.

Thanks for reading, and I still love your faces.

-The Author

P.S. Things are going to get a lot more NSFW in these next bits. We're moving form PG13 rating to R here if that helps you. Just keep it in mind, friends.

OOO

Sarah didn't know much else, but she knew it was dark. Oh, oh God. Her heart seized in her chest as the memories swarmed into one terrible cacophony of color. Like the dresses at the ball, the visions swirled together breathlessly, too fast for her to get a hold of. Tears were forming in her eyes suddenly as the whole night replayed itself. Everything… Everything had… And where was she now? What had they done to her now?

She tried to sit up but found she could not. In a box. They'd put her in a box. Why? Why? Because you killed Alfred. You killed him. Sarah's breaths were wild and rapid as she tried to push against her confinement. Alfred shouldn't have taken me. He shouldn't have. He should've known vampires are unstable when first made and I shouldn't have killed him and I should've stayed here but I didn't know what was going on-

"Sarah."

A hand had snatched her wrist and the tears were pouring form her eyes. Her eyes adjusted to the blackness and she found she could see quite well in it. Count Von Krolock was here too. Why? Did he not hate her? I hadn't meant to run away, she wanted to say but couldn't speak. I hadn't. I didn't know what was going on or where I was and- Her breathing was wild as fire poured through her body. Dying. Maria had said your body dies in the change. Why did it hurt so much? It ached like nothing she'd ever known. It made her feel sick with an illness she could not name. And this box. Damn this box. How was she meant to breathe in this box?

"Let me out." Sarah whimpered. "Please, I want to go home. Let me go home. Please. Please."

"Hush. You need to rest."

He was speaking so calmly to her. Speaking to her like she was nothing but a petulant child. Perhaps that's all she'd been to him this whole time: a child. Certainly she'd felt like one tonight. How he had sneered at her. How cruelly he'd forced her and...

Sarah looked down and saw she'd been changed back into her white shift. She tried to remember what had happened but hardly could. They'd made it back to the castle, obviously, but Sarah hadn't the faintest idea how. She'd bitten Alfred, she knew that, and Sarah was certain he'd died. He had to have died. God, there'd been so much blood. Sarah had been drowning in all the blood.

And now she could not breathe. A coffin: that's what they were in. A very large one, but she was still rather close to him. It was odd to be close to him. Last night, she would've craved being close to him but now he filled her with a fear that didn't have a name. He did not love her. They were right. Everyone had been right. He did not love her. He had let her fall to the ground. He had just stared at her. Sneered at her. I hadn't meant to run away, Sarah wanted to say, but found she couldn't speak. There were tears coming out of her eyes now. Not big and sobbing tears like when she was a child, but silent ones that slid down her cheeks and onto the lining of the tomb.

"Please," Sarah blubbered.

"Rest, Sarah. No more speaking."

It would be best to obey him, of that she was certain. When he'd pulled her from the snow, she'd kicked and screamed but he had been far more powerful than her. Yes, now it would be best not to fight him. It did not seem like he was…it did not seem like he meant to harm her. Not now at least.

Sarah shut her eyes and let the memories fill her. He'd come for her. After Alfred had fallen, and the professor had fled, her angel had come for her. Not an angel. No, Sarah did not want to go with him. Alfred was dead now. God, she had just learned his name and now he was dead. He'd wanted to run away with her. He'd wanted her to be safe and to run away with her. Alfred had been right the whole time. He'd been right about all of it and now it was all ruined. It was ruined beyond repair.

Like a banshee Sarah had screamed when The Count pulled her away from the boy. She fought him like a cat when he carried her off to the castle. Burned. A part of the outside was charred. What had happened? Sarah's head felt like it was going to explode. She felt like she was going to vomit, and he just kept walking with her. He didn't even speak to her. He didn't even yell. Sarah would've like it better if he had yelled or fought her but he just let her writhe like a demon and did nothing to abate her. Like a child. That's all she was to him: a child. He had kissed her and promised her everything and she'd followed him like a child.

Into the castle they went and down some stairs she had not seen before. They were in a dark place. He'd barked something at a servant and a door had been slammed. It was dark as night here and cold. Colder than anything in the whole world. He'd held her face in his hand and still said nothing. His thumb pried up her lip and saw the fangs that were aching there. Fangs that had killed Alfred. Fangs that had left Alfred dead in the snow. And Count Von Krolock looked at her so strangely.

One hand left her cheek and Sarah felt like keeling over. Never had she been so tired. Never had her body ached so much. This was not wonderful. This was not beautiful. A strange tearing sound alerted her ears and suddenly something warm was pressed against her mouth. Am arm. His arm. His wrist. There was blood pouring out of it. He expected her to drink it. Why drink it? Sarah wanted no more. She wanted no more of this and… And yet she swallowed it. It did not taste any different than the boy's had. He held her tightly against it. He made her drink and keep drinking and then…

She had to pull back. She was going to be sick. The drink was filling her too much: there was no room for it all. And her mind was on fire. Her whole being was on fire, and yet he kept her pressed against it. Sarah was crying. This was awful. He was trying to kill her. The blood could not fit in her anymore and she felt it dripping to the ground in front of her when he finally relented. Like a sick child, Sarah teetered to him and dropped her head like a great weight upon his chest. She was going to vomit. She was going to vomit great mounds of blood all over the front of him. This was horrendous. This was disgusting. Her head felt like insects had been crammed inside of it. Yet his hands brushed back her hair, muttering things she couldn't remember. He kissed her brow. Or perhaps she'd dreamt that.

It was him who'd undressed her, now she remembered. And she remembered being so tired that it did not affect her as it should have. He undid the dress, the skirts, the corset, and she was not as frightened by that as she should have been. Sarah had felt like a child and a child had nothing to fear from such things. She stood in her shift before him and was not scared. He'd taken the pins from her hair and Sarah thought nothing of it. So tired. Never had she been this tired. She groaned from standing and felt his arms holding her upright.

He'd told her that she needed to lie down. Her legs had not moved so he'd picked her up and laid her in a box. Not a box, a coffin. It filled her stomach with dread like rocks as she lay down in it. Now the fear crept up on her. The fear that he'd undressed her and laid her in this box. This fear of being completely and utterly in another's power. It was humiliating. It was all so humiliating she thought she'd die from it. You can't die now, she joked cynically. It made her cry again. He was going to hurt her. He was going to hurt her and Sarah was not strong enough now to stop him. God, she wanted to go home. She wanted to leave her. She wanted her mama

Yet he did no touch her. He'd not touched her as he slid the lid upon over them incasing them alone in this coffin. He'd not touched her after as she lie next to him crying. He'd not touched her until she'd tried to leave, and even then he had not touched her in the way she'd been fearing.

What struck her was that it felt good when he touched her. He'd done naught but grab her wrist, but it had felt good. It had made the sickness go away for a moment. It had made the fear and the pain leave her when he touched her. Sarah supposed it…supposed it had something to do with the blood. Maria had said something about that a long time ago. That had been so long ago.

She rolled to her side and rested herself against him. Instantly, it seemed she'd made a wrong decision. He was cold, colder than usual, and seemed to have an immediate revulsion to her being against him. Yet in the moment she thought she should turn away and act as though it had not happened, he relaxed. The fire inside of her was dying. The pain inside of her was healing itself. Yes, yes Sarah liked being close to him and inhaling him and clearing the clouded parts of her mind. She let her tears soak into his white shirt. She needed him, for whatever reason. She needed him to get better. His fingers ran through her hair softly and more tender than she had expected. It felt familiar too, this motion. She wondered if he had done this before and she simply didn't remember.

It seemed her might speak to her, but he didn't. He didn't say a word for the rest of the night. Or, if he did, Sarah had been sleeping and had not heard him.

OOO

Alfred had decided that if this vampire tried again to violate him that he would kill him.

Of course Alfred had absolutely no idea how that would be done, but he'd find a way. There was nothing to kill a vampire with in a coffin of course. In a case of bitter irony, Alfred was now incased in the very same coffin he'd been unable to kill the creatures in earlier. How he wished he'd been able to do it. What had stopped him? Why had Alfred considered, even for a moment, that he should not do this? They were monsters. Yes, monsters! What they had done to Sarah… What they had done to him!

Sarah. Oh Sarah. Alfred's chest ached at the mere thought of her. That beast had run off with her. The beautiful girl had tried with her might to fight him off, but the beast had taken her off into the storm. She was near now, he could feel her, but that demon still had his talons stuck into her. Even in this damnation, the monster got to have her. Sweet Sarah. Perfect Sarah. It was she that had done this to him, but Alfred didn't care. It had… it had been a shock to his system, but now he saw it as a change of plan. He and Sarah would still be together. They'd still be together just… just different now.

He had to get her out. He had to free her. That monster had… God, if he'd touched Sarah Alfred would-

"You're really going to need to sleep at some point, chéri."

The awful son spoke to him and Alfred tried his best to ignore. He despised this one just as much as the father.

Alfred broke, "Why? So you can violate me?"

The son groaned, "I'll admit I was a bit…overexcited earlier, but I do not hold with rape, dear. I won't touch you. I swear it."

"Your swears mean nothing to me."

"You're going to have a rotten time adjusting to life here, Alfred, if you've already decided you hate us all." The blonde vampire spoke so blasé, like absolutely nothing was wrong.

The boy spat, "I don't intend to adjust to life here. I intend to leave."

"Is that so?" The vampire said in his terrible mocking tone. "What: steal the girl, leave the castle? That went so well the first time."

Alfred huffed.

"Besides," The vampire continued. "There aren't many places to go to when you're our kind. You'll find it's far easier to live in a group, with others. You and papa's pet would not last very long on your own."

Again, Alfred said nothing, his fingers studied the lining on the wall of the coffin. It was silken and fine and a terrible purple color. Again, he was filled with a disdain for this place and the things inside of it. He had Sarah would be fine on their own, this vampire was lying to them. Sarah loved him. Sarah had kissed him and she had made him so she must… She must…

"And should you stay—which you should—I recommend staying a bit away from our dear Sarah. Father is already un-enthralled by you. You're here now by my good graces."

"Do you expect me to be grateful?"

"I expect you to have some perspective and not do anything too stupid." The tone of this vampire's voice confused him, but Alfred decided not to think much upon it. "Now, you really need to sleep. The change requires much rest."

Alfred decided he would not sleep, but it seemed his body overpowered. Eventually he did sleep and it seemed the vampire had kept his promise to keep his distance. Alfred wanted to dream of Sarah, but he found he now dreamt of nothing.

OOO

Sarah had been so beautiful at the ball. Her gown was redder than anything she'd ever seen and her jewels sat against her skin like they had always been meant to be set upon it. Never in her entire life had Sarah felt more beautiful. In fact, the whole way there she felt like she were floating. All her life, all her life, she'd wanted nothing more than this: to be a princess. To be the princess of the vampire's ball.

Now was her moment. Now was her moment as she stood atop the stairway and felt everyone's eyes upon her. Strange creatures they were, but Sarah was not looking at them. She was looking at every bit of everything at once. A ball. A ball in the vampire's castle and she was the queen of it. Never had she felt more regal. Never had she felt lighter.

There he was, waiting for her. Her angel looked so handsome in his fine attire with lace lined sleeves. He held out his hand for her like she were some great lady and Sarah was pleased to take it. Yet his grip seemed too tight and the ballroom seemed to colorful. Everything began to whirl like it had the night before. Sarah could hardly remember the night before. It had not felt real. She thought she had dreamt it. Did she dream now?

He seemed to want to dance with her. Maybe kiss her. He was staring at her so strangely but it made her smile. Then he cast her smile away. In a move that made the dream shatter and the world stop turning, her angel roughly cast her head to the side and sunk his fangs into her neck.

That was when the fire began. That was when the light faded out. That was when she heard the laughs and sneers of the deranged creatures around her. In her haze, she saw them clearly: far more clearly than she ever had before. Their faces were grotesque, their expressions even more so. They cheered at this display like it were something that gave them delight. Like her pain gave them great pleasure. She was not their queen, she was a court jester. No, something lowlier than that. A slave, perhaps. Or a dog.

In just an instant, Sarah could see clearly what she had not seen for her entire life. In just one brief moment, everything flipped or perhaps she had stayed level. In just one second, everything had shattered.

The Count drew back and Sarah could hardly stand. A pounding in her mind echoed the pounding of the music and the cacophony of the laughs. She was dying now. Yes, that is what happened. Sarah had known that. Sarah had known all of this. Why, oh why, had it not frightened her?

She reached for his hand to steady herself, but she had fallen down. Fallen down while everyone laughed at her: little slave, tiny dog. The humiliation filled her like some bitter wine, for she had wanted this. This had all struck her by her own hand. Her whole life, her whole life she'd wanted this and him and thought it sweet and beautiful and… How stupid. How infinitely stupid. She was dying. Sarah was dying and wanted to lie upon the stone floor and let death take her but knew it would refuse.

The Count stood there next to her and she felt his gaze upon her. Perhaps she should get up. Maybe it was embarrassing for him how she stayed upon the ground. His boots, shining black boots, gazed at her like large beetles. She could not think of looking at his face for she'd already pictured the sneer upon it. She'd already fathomed how amusing this must be for him.

Long moments passed and he did nothing to help her. He did not reach down to assist her, just stayed there with his beetle boots which stared her in the eye. Those swarming vampires all kept sneering, hissing. Yes, what a stupid little girl she was to have stayed upon the ground. Vapid little slave. Ignorant little dog.

He grabbed her by her shoulder and hoisted her back onto her feet. She still would not look at him. She was going to be sick. The creatures still sneered at her. The vampire next to her took her hand and made her dance like a puppet on strings. Sarah did not know him. Why she ever thought she did, she could not fathom. Never had Sarah known this man. Never had she even learned his name.

In a sequence that seemed too move too quickly for her to remember, Sarah was grabbed by Alfred. Alfred and the old man who wore ridiculous outfits and wanted to save her. Save her? No, there was no saving now. Yet as she was pulled from The Count, Sarah felt an ache deep in her chest to be near him. It was primal, this aching, and unlike anything she'd known. Sarah needed him. As frightened as she was, something in her needed him.

He'd bellowed like something from Hell to have her back as the vampires around him were frozen still. Sarah could not see what stopped them: everything looked like fire. Dragged off again she was, feeling like she was going to be sick the whole time. Feeling like her insides were being torn from her as she ran through the snow. The boy grasped her hand and promised her everything would be fine. Sarah didn't know if he was telling the truth.

They stopped some place, some clear place, and Sarah fell onto her hands and knees once again. The world was turning in spirals of colors she could not name. The boy was trying to speak to her, but Sarah could hardly hear him. Some great fire was fuming in her chest; it took her whole and possessed her being.

"Sarah," the boy knelt next to her. "Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry he hurt you. But we can make you well again! The professor knows how!" He looked to the old man to agree, but the man was distracted by a notebook. "Sarah, I was so worried. I was so scared."

"Scared?" Sarah asked, her breath making no impact in the cold air.

He nodded, "Yes. But we're together now. We're together and we can go far, far away. Wherever you want."

Wherever she wanted, that sounded so wonderful. Yes, yes he truly was a wonderful boy. Sarah hadn't the faintest idea why he'd become so attached to her, but she liked for whatever reason. He was a beautiful boy. His face was like one great painters would put in the portraits. Beautiful and golden, unlike those dark and twisted things at the castle. Sarah liked him very much.

"What's your name?" She asked, for she wanted to know it. Sarah was sick of people that she did not know the names of.

He smiled, "Alfred."

"Alfred," Sarah repeated. A charming name. A charming, Western name. Yes, Sarah liked him. She liked him so much.

She kissed him. She was not sure why. Something deep in her had wanted to do it and so she had complied. It was sweet, kissing him. It was not at all like the kiss last night in the twisted world of dreams. No, this kiss was light as air and filled her with bubbles instead of blood. He was so sweet. Sarah liked how sweet he was and how dear he was… And how his hand rested on her back and how she knew that he wanted her but would never be so forward. The kiss grew deeper and she placed a hand upon his cheek. Sarah could do whatever she wanted to him and he'd allow it. So devoted to her he was that Sarah could do absolutely anything…

Her lips moved into his neck, and before she knew what she was doing, she was drinking his blood. Fangs had come from her gums and plunged into his neck and his sweet, hot blood was filling her mouth. She could not stop. How could anyone stop? It was like a frenzy. Like a frenzy sent down by Dionysus himself. It filled her up and obsessed her and he tried to utter a scream but could not. He was in her power now…

The coffin had been opened when Sarah sat up. The coffin had been opened and its other occupant was gone without words or a note or any sign that he'd actually been there at all. Her chest heaved immediately: where had he gone? He'd left her. He'd left her, no doubt. Now she was alone again. Alone and she was going to do something awful. Where was he? Why did it ache to have him not be near her?

"Sarah?"

Her head turned immediately. It was a voice, not The Count's voice but…

Alfred stood just a few paces away, "Sarah."

She could cry: Alfred was alive.