A/N: The aftermath, part 3: Realization.
After Sarah is gone, it all changes.
The castle is different somehow, and his vampire family isn't what it used to be anymore. Even Magda seems changed, although the occurences leading to this state of things never had anything to do with her.
Sometimes, when Herbert thinks Alfred is not watching, the younger vampire can see a hard glint in those blue eyes. He laughs less and seems to suddenly prefer his own company – or Magda's – over his father or Alfred. And the Count is different too: more distant and cold than he ever used to be. Nevertheless, there are moments when Krolock looks at him and there's this unexplainable expression in his eyes, the kind that makes Alfred feel just slightly regretful of how this all has turned out, but for the most parts, there's nothing between them. Some dawns, when Alfred is feeling lonely in his coffin that he used to share with Sarah, he thinks of crawling into the Count's sarcophagus. He never does.
He wonders if he should feel regret for that night, especially when he looks at Herbert, but in the end he can't. All he is able to feel is gratitude.
And when Krolock looks at him in that certain way, he is tempted. Oh yes, the temptation is sweeter than anything. But when he stops to think of it, he also knows he cannot give in. Not only because it would kill Herbert, but because Herbert's unhappiness would also lead to the Count's unhappiness. In a way, it already has, and Alfred doesn't want to make it any worse.
All there is on that road is destruction. For now.
This is also why he has to leave before it's too late.
One night, a lifetime after Alfred became a vampire, he rises from his coffin and starts packing. It doesn't take long, for he doesn't have many belongings. Material questions seem rather insignificant at this point anyway. He's not scared of leaving, although he doesn't have any idea where to go or what to do. Maybe he'll go and find Sarah. Or maybe not – he doesn't know if she wants to see him yet.
The Count might have taken his humanity, but he also gave something in turn: courage.
When he is done, he thinks of who he needs to say goodbye to. Herbert pops in his mind, but he's not sure how that confrontation would end. Only one name remains, and after giving himself one last moment of dreaming how it could be if he didn't have to leave, he ascends the stairs, passes through the quiet hallways and knocks at the door of the sitting room.