Chapter Text
The moment Robert Montague Renfield stepped foot into his apartment, he knew he was absolutely screwed.
It had been a good day. He went out, added more posters to his apartment, eventually gaining enough confidence to call Officer Rebecca to possibly go to dinner.
It all came crashing down at his feet.
There, at his small kitchen counter that was next to one of his brightly painted walls sat his master, Dracula.
‘Oh, master I didn’t expect to see you-’ he stumbled through his lines of excuses.
‘Oh, and were you, by chance, going to bring me my meal?’ his master responded, feigning innocence and giving Renfield a look that sent an icy-cold chill down his bones.
Oh, he really was screwed.
‘I-I was actually getting to that, there just happen to be too many bodies-!’ he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, especially the dark lord himself who could sense Renfield’s every emotion at will and could practically see that he was lying through his teeth. Hungry and not at full power yet, his temper was running short and it seems the perfect target even the audacity to *lie* to his face.
He stood up from his seat which made Renfield jump, and he slowly made his way towards his familiar. He really does enjoy the fear he sees growing in the pale man’s eyes, and Renfield is painfully aware of it. Perhaps it’s why he let his tight leash on Renfield’s immortal life slack a bit, he knew eventually he’d get to see him tremble as he slowly realized just how powerful his master is.
Before he even knew what was happening, Renfield felt the pain of his knees hitting the floor and he barely caught himself to stop his head from hitting the ground, but it was in vain as a snakeskin shoe slammed his head onto the tiles that lined his kitchen floor. He could feel his nose start to bleed.
‘See, I hear that you “saved” a room full of innocent people, and I start to feel a bit sad, like you’re thinking of disobeying me’ Dracula didn’t remove his foot from Renfield’s head, and Renfield didn’t dare move from his sprawled out position on the floor. ‘Do you know how hurt that makes me feel?’
The sickeningly sweet voice of his master forced him to suppress a chill, only vaguely accomplishing his goal. His thoughts were running wild. From the fight at the restaurant to Officer Rebecca to what Mark had said to him. *I deserve to be loved*.
‘Do you ignore me, slave?’ Dracula roared at the man on the ground, kicking his head with so much force that if Renfield wasn’t used to being brutally injured on a daily basis would have given him a severe concussion. Well, there went that idea.
Receiving a blow to the ribs, Renfield remembered he was supposed to be having what could be described as a very angry conversation, he gasped out a ‘No master’
‘Then why did you dare disobey me?’ the anger in his voice translated directly into his next kick into Renfield’s collarbone.
‘I’m sorry master, I didn’t mean to disobey you, I just-’ he gasped again.
‘I don’t want your excuses!’. Dracula interrupted his wheezing and crouched down so he could look at Renfield, who was flipped on his side gasping for breath, directly in the eyes. Gently, he traced his sharp claw along his familiar’s jawline. Renfield nearly jolted at how soft the gesture was. He felt like he was getting whiplash.
The book.
The *book*.
He desperately wants to hold it and read its contents and affirmations, to feel cared for and loved, and to know that he was enough.
This thought didn’t last long. Slowly, pressure was added and the claw on his cheek sharply cut into his soft skin, drawing a sharp line down to the curve of his collarbone.
‘See, I start to feel like you don’t care about my needs’ Dracula said as if he wasn't actively cutting his familiar’s cheek to shreds. ‘Do you?’
That sweet voice was back.
‘O-of course master, I only live to serve you’ Renfield quickly assured him. The claw on his cheek moved slowly to his hair and suddenly he was being pulled up from the ground rather painfully.
‘Then why did you DISOBEY ME?’ He yelled as he slammed Renfield into the wall behind him by the hair and grabbed his neck with the other hand.
‘I’m sorry master, I’m sorry’ he gasped, nearly unable to speak. The hand from his hair moved to his shoulder and gripped it tightly, drawing blood that immediately soaked into his sweater.
‘You are a selfish excuse for a familiar, what makes you think you deserve any of this?’ He gestured around the bright room. The walls that he painted himself even seemed to be mocking him at this point. Why did he ever think he could have this? He wasn’t good enough for his master, he wasn’t good enough for anybody.
Including himself.
‘Now you see, you’re lucky Renfield. If there was anybody in this world who you even loved or cared about, I would kill them before your pathetic eyes. But I’m the only one who will ever be here for you.’ He accentuated his point by digging his claws into his shoulder even deeper and starting to pull it away from his body. His vision went blurry at the pain, and he gasped out another ‘I’m sorry master, you are the most powerful, I don’t deserve you.’ He really didn’t. There was nobody else who even cared enough to notice he never aged, though to be fair that part was intentional. But there was nobody else he could even be close enough with for his master to threaten. He really was useless.
‘That’s right. I take care of you, I protect you, I even gave you a fraction of my power, and you think you can walk all over the privilege I’ve given you.’ He dug his hand even more into his shoulder and Renfield could feel it pop out of its socket.
‘Yes master’ he managed to squeak out before he felt too nauseous to speak. He couldn’t even scream, he just felt the white-hot pain as the claws kept digging into his shoulder. There was no question about it, Dracula could tear his entire arm off if he willed it. But he didn’t. Instead, his throat was released and he barely managed to land on his feet and fell against his master, who propped him back up against the wall.
‘Now. You won’t ever betray me like this again, right?’ His master held his bleeding face in his hand and his mangled shoulder in the other.
‘No master’
‘Good! Now, pack up your things, you’re not to come back here.’
‘Yes master'
The moment his master transformed into a swarm of bats and left the small apartment, Renfield sank to the ground, and slumped against the wall. He really was worthless. With barely enough strength, he managed to pull himself up and search through his closet for a duffle bag. Grabbing what few clothing items he kept that fit his old dark style, he put them in the bag. He was working one-handed since his master didn’t heal him. He needed to suffer through his punishment. He could only hope that he is merciful enough to him when he returns to their lair.
Their.
His guess is that he wouldn’t be left to his own devices anymore, especially because that’s what led him to go to the DAARE meetings in the first place.
He looked around the apartment and spotted the book on top of a stack of others he got from Mark. It would have been helpful a few minute’s before, wouldn’t it?… no, the book couldn’t help him now. It was delusional to believe he could stand up against his master. And who knows, maybe the reason he isn’t dead permanently is because somewhere, deep down, Dracula has gotten used to him. And doesn’t hate him. He had said it last time he saved him from the church, hadn’t he? That Renfield couldn’t live without his master, and nobody else would love him. Well, the second one was true, at least. He did try to live without his master, and it got him an arm that was currently dripping blood onto his bag.
He picked the book up with his less-damaged hand and knocked it to the ground. It felt better that way.
—————-
He walked into the old hospital, bag on his back, feeling malnourished. Not that he ever felt full, but his body actually starting to heal his arm instead of the Dracula blood healthcare plan was starting to take a toll on him.
He’s glad that this was the location in all of New Orleans that he chose. He had looked at a few large graveyards, old hotels, and even a tavern that was already avoided regularly due to it being apparently already haunted. But the hospital was perfectly dark and brooding and had enough stairs to his Master’s throne that he could mentally prepare for whatever else would happen tonight. A million ideas shot through his head, most of them being gruesome torture and a few even ending in death, but then he remembered his thoughts could be seen by the being he was actively fretting over and decided he shouldn’t give him any ideas.
Finally he made his way to the top floor, and the stench of blood that never really left his nose hit him again.
‘Ah master, I’m back’ Renfield said as he sees the being in question sitting on his throne. His voice sounded weaker than he meant it to, but if it was fear or his body losing all strength he wasn’t sure.
‘Well, glad you could finally join me’ Dracula responded semi-sarcastically, but with seemingly no anger behind it.
‘Come here’ his raspy voice beckoned after Renfield just stood there awkwardly for a moment. Cautiously, he put his duffle bag down by the door and walked towards the throne surrounded by nearly empty blood bags. He really should change those out soon. He stood in front of his master’s throne, and not quite sure what else to do he got down on one knee in front of his master. He can't be too careful when it comes to upsetting his master.
‘Rise, servant, and come closer’ Dracula ordered, and he complied even though he was already quite close to his throne. He stood next to his throne, and looked at his master.
Acting frighteningly softly, Dracula gently cupped the side of his familiar’s face where he had left scratches only a few hours ago. Renfield’s heart started pounding in his chest, mainly due to the closeness and terror he felt. His master’s thumb gently soothed over the deep scrape, making his nervous system confused as all hell.
‘Now, you’re going to go out and fetch me my meal’ he said softly, Renfield being close enough to feel his cold breath on his cheek. ‘And it better be something that can bring me back to full power, because I’m going to be kind to you and heal your wounds, but that can be very *easily* undone.’ Understanding his predicament, Renfield didn’t dare do something to upset his master further. ‘Yes, master’ was his small, weak reply that reminded him even more how powerless he was.
‘Kneel’
And he did as he was told, kneeling in front of his master as blood dripped into his mouth like it was from God itself. He felt the muscles in his arm weave themselves back together and the joint move back into place with a painful *pop*, and all his cuts and bruises seemed to fade into his naturally pale complexion. Damn did he still feel exhausted though.
As he walked back down the stairs of the old hospital, his mind started planning his next kill. That part of his brain had been itching to be used for way too long and Renfield ignoring it made the situation worse, so yeah. He needed to kill an innocent person. Where would he even find one this time of night?
Maybe a bar? Most people would be drunk by now, and likely not the best crowd. But maybe…
Walking a few blocks through the nearly abandoned streets that surrounded their lair, he slowly saw more and more people as he made his way to a more populated street. There seemed to be many bars along the way, most filled with the usual drunkards he expected. As he kept walking, passing places filled with people whose blood would not suit his master’s needs, he finally ended up at the doors of a run-down jazz club. This seemed promising and he still heard music playing inside.
He entered and blended into the small crowd that mostly consisted of creepy guys hitting on the few tired women sitting at the bar, small groups sitting at the tables and watching the music, and those who stood in the back figuring out where they belong. But what really caught his eye were the musicians. The singer, a young woman with a beautiful voice, stood in the center. She looked innocent enough, clean, and the perfect target for him.
Suddenly a wave of guilt washed over him. Was he really going to do this? He’d killed many innocent people, sure, he definitely wasn’t a good person. But after everything he’d experienced? How could-
‘RENFIELD’
He was startled by the loud voice of his master in his mind warning him that if he made one wrong mistake, there would be hell to pay.
Blood of an innocent woman it was, then.
He checked his watch and glanced at the sign on the door, it was 1:56 a.m. and the band ended at 2. Great timing he thought as he casually walked out the door he came in. He dug through his pocket and made his way to the side of the building by where the maintenance door was. As he couldn’t find the small box in his pocket, he cursed himself for being foolish enough to let his bugs go. Why did he think he wouldn’t need them anymore?
As he waited in the dark alley where the band would leave after the clean-up, he noticed a shattered potted plant that seemed to have missed the dumpster.
‘Oh come on please just a little bit of luck’ he mumbled as he dug through the dirt that was left in the bottom of the pot. Finally, his fingers hit exactly what he was looking for and he pulled out an earthworm from the mess. Not the best option, but it’d do. He couldn’t expect to find a poisonous spider in a back alley, could he.
Finally, the door opened and he snuck behind the dumpster and watched the band members file through the door, their tired banter filling the quiet streets. These victims wouldn’t do though, he needed to wait for that girl to come out. Once the rest of the band had gone, Renfield was left alone with no victim. Where had she gone? She should have left with the rest of the band, why did she stay behind?
Suddenly, the door swung open and slammed against the brick wall of the building.
‘You stupid bitch!’ A man yelled, dragging the exact girl Renfield was looking for by the hair outside. ‘We’re going home. NOW’ he demanded her and she slowly stood up properly and followed him.
Quickly eating his worm and dousing his handkerchief in chemical, Renfield quietly silenced her from behind and she fell limp in his arms. Slowly dragging her back, he accidentally kicked a bottle, making the man spin around. To Renfield’s surprise, he didn’t go after him.
‘It’s about time someone took care of that whore’ the man scoffed and went to turn back around.
What?
‘Is this your girlfriend?’ Renfield asks him, laying the girl down against the dumpster. ‘Yeah, so?’ The man responds, to Renfield’s shock.
‘You do… you do know I'm going to kill her, right?’ He asked hesitantly to the man who just looked bored at the conversation.
‘Yeah I assume so, some creepy bloke in an alleyway is dragging her body away.’
‘But don’t you care about her?’ Renfield was confused. This man claimed to be her boyfriend but doesn’t even care that he was seeing her limp body on the ground. Ok, this was making him mad. This was even making him somewhat angry.
‘Why would I? I never wanted her around, she didn’t even listen to me.’ The man stepped closer to Renfield, still looking bored. He could smell the alcohol in his breath.
‘… say that one more time’
‘What?’
‘I said, say that one more time.’ He could feel his blood boiling, and his eyes glowing an angrier shade of yellow than the usual bug-effect.
‘I never wanted her around, why would I care about her? Listen, man, I don’t want any trouble, you can take her, I’m not responsible’ He started getting defensive now. Cute, how he thought he could protect himself.
This one’s blood would not be good at all, not for his master. This one was *his*.
‘Oh, I’ll be taking her but not until you’re done.’ Renfield’s face looked dark and twisted, the only thing on his mind being this man’s murder.
Slamming his fist into his chest, the man yelled in fear only for his vocal cords to be hit with a silencing blow. ‘You-you’re crazy, man!’ He wheezed, only for Renfield to kick his knee, cracking it out of place and backward.
‘No, you’re just a bastard’ he responded, even though he was sure the man couldn’t hear him over the excruciating pain. A few more punches to the gut should prove his point. And why stop there? He lands another solid punch to his face, shattering his nose, the man quite unconscious by now. The man couldn’t even respect someone he dared to call his girlfriend, why did he deserve any respect now?
With one final blow to the neck, the man was dead, blood splatters covering the dark walls of the alley.
Sighing, he dragged the man’s body behind the dumpster for whatever poor janitor who left through this door to find and gently picked up the girl into a fireman's carry. His master did like his meals alive, after all.
Leaving the alleyway, the only thing left was the man’s bloody ankle, barely visible from behind the dumpster, with a blacked-out tattoo of a wolf.