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It hurt.

It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt.

Why did it fucking hurt so much?

Dracula poured over the side of his coffin, vomiting viscous blood across the stone floor with a great heave. He sat back, trembling. Blood trickled from his eyes, turning the sclera black; more seeped from his nostrils and ears.

Hesitantly, breathing labored, Dracula touched the stake still impaled in his chest. How ironic, he thought, and if he weren't in such pain, he might've laughed. Leaving the impalement in his shriveled heart would only cause the corrosion to spread. He could feel the skin around the wound wilt and crack away.

Why? He'd been through much worse, taking damage far deadlier than this. What was different this time? And why was the hurt he felt running deeper than it should? A level beyond physical.

Abraham Van Helsing, the only mortal in many, many years to ever stand up to him and survive, unscathed and sanity intact. Dracula had never faced a man he could not break, but the professor had a mental fortitude he couldn't even touch, one so strong it rivaled the vampire's own. It wasn't the stake killing him, but the force, the determination, the faith and willpower of the man who'd put it there.

Dracula puked, blood spilling down the front of his robes, pooling in his lap. He grit his blackened fangs; ripped the stake out, taking a chunk of his withering heart with it. He screamed, a powerful, haunting noise that shook dust from the old walls. Dracula threw the stake, braced a hand to the wound.

Abraham Van Helsing shouldn't have been here. Shouldn't have found Dracula.

Then Dracula remembered, and...

Yes. That.

Dracula glanced around the room. Van Helsing could still be here, but he needed to move. He stood on shaky legs, knees buckling, blood dripping out between his fingers. He coughed up a great slimy clot at his feet. He tried to shapeshift--bats, first, then smoke--but each ended in failure and waves of nauseating pain.

Dracula checked out the window. Dawn was steadily approaching. An hour, maybe less. Dracula thought for a moment, his breathing heavy and wet. He could not leave, not on his own, but he could not stay.

Anger roiled in his empty belly, rising to his chest to grip his mutilated heart. "You..." he snarled, black eyes momentarily blazing red before dimming. "You're still there." He clutched his wound, claws digging into his ruined cloak. With a bitter, resigned hiss, he stepped out of his coffin.

Dracula staggered to the door, idly scratching and peeling away rotting flesh from his neck. With a blood-soaked wheeze, he stumbled out of the room, and the world spun with a combination of emotions--rage, betrayal, exhaustion, pain, confusion.

Renfield's body laid at the bottom of the staircase. He hadn't been moved. Dracula couldn't sense Van Helsing at the moment, but his powers were crippled. Why would that "saint" just abandon Renfield's body? He'd been a victim of the vampire just as Mina, as Lucy, as countless many had before.

Dracula sniffed the air. He could smell others, new blood he didn’t recognize. More people had been here recently. Van Helsing's scent was flagging, but--

"What in bleedin' Hell?"

Dracula looked up with a snarl. A policeman turned the corner, staring at the vampire with a look of terror, the blood leaving his face. "But you-- Your body-- It was just--" He wagged a finger at the door, at the dark trail Dracula left behind. "That crazy bugger, he was... he was tellin' the bloody truth!"

Dracula managed a very tiny smile. His body burned as he pushed himself into a quick sprint, still inhumanely fast but sluggish to the vampire. He lopped the officer's head from his shoulders and drank hungrily from the geyser bleeding out the neck wound. It was not the purest blood, it would do very little in the way of healing him, but it would give him just enough of a boost to commit his next reluctant task.

It's not like Dracula had much of a choice. He drank his fill, let the corpse drop to the floor. The bleeding stopped from his eyes and ears, slowing from his nose. He stumbled back over to Renfield's dead form, half curled up and staring with blank, gray-glazed eyes at the decapitated policeman.

"Spineless, wretched beast," Dracula snapped. Spittle hit Renfield's face, his eyes. "You deserved a slow, torturous death. I would watch you... watch you bleed out on a stake." He wanted nothing more than to place his foot on the bastard's head, step down until his skull flattened and his brain matter stuck like gum to the bottom of his shoe.

It hurt.

Dracula cursed, wiping the saliva from his mouth. He kicked the corpse in the ribs as hard as possible (which wasn't much), rolling Renfield onto his back. That face of terror and... Dracula could laugh. He wanted to laugh, he really did. A lot about tonight sure was fucking hilarious.

"You felt betrayed?" Dracula croaked, grin twitching.

Dracula grabbed at his chest. It hurt.

"As loath as I am... to do this... I have no choice..." Dracula reached into his chest, tearing a scrap of heart away from the mangled lump. He held it out, squeezing the blood free; it fell into Renfield's mouth, blackening his lips. "But," the vampire wheezed, "I will get the honor... of killing you again... later."

Renfield remained unmoving for another minute before his eye twitched. A second later, his mouth started to spasm, then his fingers, then his feet--

Renfield sat upright with a gasp followed by puking, spraying blood across the floor. He grabbed at his neck, whimpered and choked as he felt his spine snap back into place, the bruised skin turning a healthy pink again. Renfield stared at the floor, hyperventilating, his body cold as it went into shock.

"Welcome back," Dracula growled, "you fucking cockroach."

Renfield's bloodshot eyes widened; when he looked up at Dracula, when his vision cleared, tears instantly fell. "Master!" he sobbed, a truly pathetic cry. He reached out, clutching Dracula's cloak. "Master! Oh, God, oh, God!" He curled forward, screaming until his lungs ached.

"God did not raise your worthless soul back from the pit!" Dracula roared, eyes flickering red again.

Renfield shook his head, raised his clenched hands. "You, only you, only you! Only ever you!" he yelped. "Forgive me, Master!"

Dracula stared down at him, silent.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Renfield cried again and again. He stopped, heaving, before turning his head to throw up. He was shaking uncontrollably, his mind and heart racing. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry!" The words were beginning to slur, his body unable to handle the rush; his eyes rolled back as he swayed. "Sorr... sorry... sorry..."

Dracula's lips tightened. There was that distinct pain again--and then the rage. "Get up!" Dracula yelled, kicking Renfield in his stomach. The man fell back with a grunt, drool flying from his lips.

Renfield flipped onto his hands and knees, eyes wandering. "I'm..." He choked down another wave of puke, bitter, foul bile burning his throat.

"Useless!" Dracula snarled. He grabbed a fistful of his familiar's hair, yanking him up to his feet. Renfield's face was a pitiful, disgusting mess; cheeks wet with tears, blood and thick strands of vomit-laced drool caking his mouth, snot dribbling from his nose. His blue eyes were wild yet focused entirely on his Master.

"Take me... away from here. Now!"

Renfield whimpered. "Yes, yes, yes." He shook his head, eyes widening with terror at seeing the hole in his Master's heart. "Oh. No. No, no, no!" He reached out to touch it, to stop the bleeding, to do anything that might help. "No, no, no!"

Dracula slapped his hand away, claw snagging his wrist. "The church," he barked, "take me to... the church!" He thrust his palm feebly against Renfield's forehead, projecting the image and location of the church into his mind's eye. It was brief, a flicker of power, but Dracula slumped back in exhaustion.

Renfield clawed at his head, as if he were attempting to sift through paperwork, looking for a particular memory. An old habit. He thought and thought, muttering to himself. "The... yes! Yes!" he cried out with glee, hiccupping. "Yes, yes! The church! I see now, I know now!"

Dracula searched Renfield's eyes for some sort of comprehension; he was too weak to enter the man's mind. It was a jumbled, chaotic mess anyway. Renfield's gaze was maddening, and yet it still managed to latch onto Dracula like some anchoring force. All attention on him, completely, utterly.

Dracula sighed, frustrated. He turned, stumbling back for his coffin.

"L-Let me help--"

"Do not touch me, you worm!" Dracula spat, backhanding Renfield across the face.

Renfield hit the door, sunk down with a tiny groan.

Dracula ground his teeth, felt his jaw crack. "Get up!" he bellowed.

Renfield raised his head, eyes lidded. He mouthed words Dracula could not understand, but then he was back up, rushing over to the coffin. He knelt before it, held back the lid, a hopeful, hideous grin on his filthy face.

Dracula shuddered as he stepped back into his coffin. Renfield, having not learned his lesson only moments ago, reached to grab his arms and help him. Dracula was too weak to shove him away, begrudgingly allowed his familiar to lower him down.

"Down, down, down," Renfield whispered, giggling, "bundled up tight in Hypnos’s arms. Rest. I am here, I won't go back." The muscles in his neck and shoulder spasmed. "They can't take me back."

Dracula winced as he stretched out, Renfield carefully, lovingly, pulling his cloak over the wound. Dracula pointed to a spider in a nearby corner. "Use it," he ordered.

Renfield blinked, following the direction of the quivering finger. The moment he saw the spider, his eyes lit up. Saliva instantly spilled from his lips and dribbled down his chin. "You have gifted me two lives! You kept the promise I don't deserve!" he exclaimed, running clumsily over to the web. He snatched the spider into his hands, let it struggle in his grip for a moment. With another happy trill, he swallowed it whole.

Renfield groaned as the power rushed through his body. He was half-hard already, precum wetting the front of his pants with what might have been a little urine. He darted back to the coffin, and his look of glee and insanity switched to one of misery and remorse.

"You kept your promise! That little life, you gave it to me!" Renfield wailed, fresh, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, onto Dracula's cloak. "After all the awful things I did, you kept your... No! No! It was an accident!" He slapped the sides of head with the heels of his palms. "I did not know, Master, please believe--"

"The church, Robert!" Dracula spat, slamming the lid closed.

Renfield sniffed, wiping snot from his nose with the stained cuff of his sleeve. "The church," he whispered. A dreamlike smile crossed his face, and he sighed as he easily hefted the coffin off the ground. "To safety. I'll protect you. I always will."

---

Dracula had found the church some days ago while en route to the theater. Abandoned ruins overgrown with weeds. It was tucked away like a shameful secret, left to rot in the shadows. He didn't know why he stopped the carriage to investigate; he spent ten minutes wandering the area, the gutted rooms. The walls remained relatively intact, and after a few taps of his cane, he found the entrance to a cellar. It was small, choked with dust and cobwebs.

It would do for now.

Dracula stirred in his trance when his coffin shook. He watched the lid slide open, Renfield's bright, beaming face peering inside. "Master," he whispered, "we're here. The church! You're safe! No one will harm you!" He laughed, that familiar mix of a repressed sob and maniacal glee. He glanced around the dark cellar. "Yes, it's quiet! Not a soul around! I can hear the spiders, so many, many legs, but no human, no animal."

Dracula sighed. He hardly felt any relief. He met Renfield's eyes, and felt a pang in his chest again. A different wound left festering, one he refused to heal.

"No one followed me!" Renfield answered the unasked question, shaking his head. "No one! I was careful! I was careful this time! You believe I was careful, yes?" His bottom lip trembled, and the glaze returned to his eyes. Tears tracked down his face. "I wouldn't b-betray you. Not... not again. I wasn't followed. I p-promise, Master."

Dracula decided he would wait at least three more days. He'd surely be strong enough to move on his own by then. When he did, he would rend this man to pieces.

---

Dracula woke to low humming. It was coming from outside the coffin, just above him. He opened his eyes, inhaling slowly.

It was Renfield. Singing a song for his Master. Stretched out on top of the coffin, embracing it tenderly, cheek against the cold wood. "With my teeny little eye, I saw him die," he sang quietly, "Who caught his blood? I, said the duck!"

Renfield giggled, pulling his legs up to his chest. "I used to sing that song to you, all the time," he whispered, fingers tapping his lips, "when you laid frightened in bed, when you had those awful nightmares, I sang you that lullaby. You fell right back to sleep, so deep you looked as if you were dead--a dead little angel ready for God to reclaim. Precious darling, the only good thing that ever came out of that lonely union."

Dracula sneered. "I am not your daughter," he said, "do not treat me... like a child."

"Who?" Renfield replied, blinking wide eyes. He furrowed his brows. "Who? There's only you, Master. There's nobody else. Do you think there's a child here?" He laughed that ugly sound. "No, no! It's just you, and it's just me. You're safe!"

No response.

Renfield sighed happily, resting his cheek back against the coffin, closing his eyes. "All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing," he sang, and tears rolled down his face as his voice warbled on miserably, "when they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin."

---

Dracula woke abruptly from his trance, overwhelmed with hunger. He growled, touching the hole in his chest; it'd sealed up a few inches, and he wasn't rotting anymore, but this would... take a while.

Still, it hurt, whatever it was. The pain that wasn't physical, that couldn't be cured by blood and rest.

Dracula placed a hand to his coffin lid, went to push it away before he heard the panicked shuffling of footfalls racing past. Fighting back a pained cry, he sat up slowly. Dracula blinked, confused; surrounding his coffin were dead animals. Pigeons, sparrows, a weasel, a cat, and a few rats. There were a handful of moths and spiders. How long had he been out?

Dracula looked up, spotting Renfield sitting across the cellar, legs pulled up to his chest. Big blue eyes peering over his knees; petrified, hopeful. It would be daunting to any sane man, Dracula supposed, but all he felt was rage and hurt.

"What is... all this?" Dracula hissed, voice scratchy. He gestured vaguely at the dead offerings.

Renfield continued staring at him, unblinking. "Gifts," he whispered, picking dirt and dried blood from under his nails, "you need them. Need them more than me. I dare not drink from them when you are so ill, Master." An eyebrow twitched.

Dracula bowed his head, sighing. "You think..." He held out a hand, then angrily swept away the dead creatures, some smashing and bursting as they hit the wall. "This blood--the worthless, tainted, weak blood of dead animals will undo what you have done?"

Renfield dropped forward onto hands and knees, shrinking back, tears in his glassy eyes. He still hadn't blinked. "I'm sorry, Master," he whimpered, "it's m-my fault, it's all my fault! I'm sorry!"

Dracula grabbed at his cloak, ripping it open to display the hole in his chest. "Look at this, you wretch!" he snarled, irises burning red. "This is your fault! You did this to me!"

Renfield grabbed at his face, blubbering. "I kn-know, Master! I hurt you! I hurt you so horrendously, and I'll never forgive myself because of it!" he sobbed.

Dracula's eyes widened. "You..." His twitching grin split his face. "... Oh, you devilish prick. You little fucking bastard." And although his body cried out in agony, he slithered across the floor until he was holding his wailing familiar's face in his hands. "I'm going to rip out your tongue and let you choke on the blood as you watch me vivisect you, gut you sternum to groin! I'm going to take you apart, and I'm going to make you eat whatever qualifies as your spine and watch your teeth break and shatter on bone!"

Renfield's lips quivered, endless tears sticky on his face. "Okay," he whispered.

Dracula growled.

"Do what you must," Renfield said softly. He placed a hand over his heart. "You can take mine, if you want." He slouched into his Master's hands, eyes squeezed shut. "But it hurts so much. It's full of so much pain. It will only cause you more harm, I fear..." He opened his eyes again, that deranged glimmer returning. "But you can have it all the same. You can have my blood, and my stomach, and my liver, and my kidneys, and my brain--whatever you want! It's yours, it's always been yours! I gave them to you freely!"

Renfield yanked up his sleeve coated in dirt and blood. Dracula was alarmed to find cuts marring his flesh; given the grooves and depths, most likely from Renfield’s nails. "If you need flesh to plaster your wound!" he exclaimed, digging into his forearm, dragging his fingernails back until the red welts bubbled with blood. "Take mine! Take whatever you need! This is your vessel, your clay to mold, as God did so with Adam!"

"Silence!" Dracula grabbed Renfield by the throat, claws threatening to puncture taut muscles. The light faded from his eyes, and he immediately went limp, gaze drifting far away.

"Again," Renfield mumbled, "and again, and again, and again you may kill me. It is your right." His arms hung loose by his sides.

Dracula ground his teeth. That abhorrible pain, that awful pain--his mind reeled, and a memory flashed before his eyes. His hand around Renfield's neck, but this Renfied was clean, was smiling, was alert and aware. The hand wasn't tight as it was now, it wasn't threatening. He shuddered at the phantom warmth of the fire in that memory, of lying down on the rug with this beautiful, naïve man pinned beneath him, pliant and open and so trusting.

Dracula snapped back to reality, to the Renfield lost in his madness, sullied with mud and dried blood, hair a greasy mess. His grip had loosened, but Renfield was drooling, eyes rolling back into his head.

"What...!" Dracula gave Renfield a rough shake, and instantly his head went back up, eyes bulging, mouth a thin line. Staring in bewilderment, almost as if he forgot where he was.

"But please, Master," Renfield immediately picked back up from his previous rambling, "if you kill me, please bring me back. I don't want to die. I don't." His face twisted up in pain, tears wetting Dracula's hand. "I'm scared. I don't want them to find me. I hear them calling for me every night. Telling me to stop hiding, to come out and look them in the eye. Those p-poor people..." He stiffened, eyes darting frantically around the cellar. "Y-You can hear them, too, c-can't you?"

Dracula growled. "You are a weak thing, Robert. A creature of silt."

"If I leave, if I succumb to their lashing tongues, they'll come after you next!" Renfield squealed, only to wince and shut his mouth. He looked into his Master's eyes as his voice softened. "I will hold them off. I must stay awake, I mustn't listen to or answer them. I will keep you safe, so you may not hear their cries."

Then, Renfield smiled, something warm and genuine, just like that old memory.

"I will protect you from them," Renfield reassured, blushing, "because you are my Master, and I love you."

Dracula recoiled with a snarl, fingers digging into his chest wound. He threw Renfield onto the dusty floor. It hurt it hurt it hurt--! He rushed back to his coffin, the lid slamming shut on his shadow.

A moment later, Dracula heard fingers gently clawing at his coffin.

"Master," Renfield said, his worried voice muffled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I never mean to upset you. I'm sorry. You don't have to forgive me. I'm sorry." And for a minute or two, there was only sniffling and silent weeping, and Dracula couldn't will his aching body to sleep.

Renfield spoke again, calm. "Would a kitten do?" he asked. "If I brought it to you alive, warm and purring... would you like that?"

---

"I've been told," Renfield said, lounging in Dracula's study, "that I am a very fast learner. I pick up things rather quickly." He laughed and shook his head, slapping the book with the back of his hand. "But learning new languages? I'm not sure."

"Do you know any other languages besides your mother tongue?" Dracula inquired, pouring his guest a glass of wine.

Renfield pursed his lips. "I know a little French, very little. I can say simple phrases in Punjabi. But, no, I'm afraid English is the only language I'm properly--at least most of the time, ha--fluent in." He smiled shyly as he took the offered glass. "I'm a rather dull and uncultured man, I suppose."

Dracula laughed softly. "I don't think so, Mr. Renfield," he said. He sat back down on the settee, nearly hip to hip with Renfield. He felt the heat rising from his body, watched his muscles stiffen. His pulse quickened. "I think you're a very capable man. The type who can do anything, once you've set your mind to it."

Renfield swallowed the lump in his throat. "O-Oh, you think so? Thank you."

Dracula placed a clawed finger on the open page. "Noapte. You recognize that word, yes?"

"The theater, of course."

"Noapte means 'night'."

Renfield nodded. "And noapte bună means 'good night'."

"Yes!" Dracula chuckled. "See? You're already learning."

Renfield tugged at his tie. "You give me too much credit, Vlad," he said. He smiled bashfully. "Mulțumesc."

"Bine ai venit," Dracula replied, sliding a finger over Renfield's hand cradling the book, "Robert."

---

"Un motan cât un pisoi! Tam, tam, taram, tam, tam! Stă pe-o ladă de gunoi! Tam, tam, taram, tam, tam!"

Dracula slowly opened his weary eyes, the vibrant color of his study now black and frigid. He listened to Renfield sing the old Romanian nursery rhyme, all the while slamming something heavy on the floor.

Not the floor, no--meat, guts, blood. His nostrils flared.

"Și tot caută în el!" Smash! "Tam, tam, taram, tam, tam!" Crunch! "Să gasească-un soricel!"

Dracula sneered. He'd rather rot here and now than drink cat’s blood.

---

Nonetheless, when Dracula next woke from his fitful sleep, he found the butchered remains of the cat left by his coffin, lined up with more birds and a badger. No bugs, however, not even a fly. Renfield had scavenged and lit a candle. Everything placed there with adoration, as if offerings to an altar.

However, sitting among the dead beasts was a jar of blood. Dracula hesitantly reached out, touched the glass.

"I kept it warm for you," Renfield said from his spot across the cellar, with his legs to his chest and his unsettling eyes watching over his knees. "Even if only a little." He picked at the scabs on his arms, the sleeves of his shirt torn and bloodied. "I made sure it stayed warm."

Dracula shuddered, his free hand moving to his wound.

"I will sing in Romanian," Renfield said, "maybe it will help you sleep better. As if you were back home in the Carpathian Mountains. Maybe you'll heal faster then." He finally blinked. "Noapte bună, Master."

Dracula curled his fingers into a fist. He would paint the walls of the desecrated church with this liar's entrails. He snatched up the jar of blood and retreated back into his coffin.

---

Three days passed.

Three days spent mostly sleeping, recuperating.

Three days of waking only to drink the repulsive blood his useless familiar served him. There were noticeably less animal corpses, however, and a great deal more cuts and wounds on Renfield's arms and face. Even his pants were stained in dark patches.

"Your blood only makes me sick, you toad," Dracula growled. He threw the jar at the wall, glass shattering. Renfield was on his hands and knees, chewing the tips of his scratched and bruised fingers. "Bring me human blood--pure blood! The lifefluid of innocents, of bleeding hearts and selfless saints! Not this trash!"

Renfield winced, nodding fast.

"Or do you intend on poisoning me with your vile sludge?" Dracula spat, felt a rush of heat. "You want to kill your Master again, don't you? Rid yourself of your chains by leaving me to starve and wither away."

Renfield gasped, scrambling across the room and clawing at dirt. He knelt before his Master's coffin, grabbing and tugging at his shirt. "I swear to you, Master, I am loyal to you! I would never dream of hurting you! I would rather die a thousand more times at your hand before I caused you any pain!"

Dracula grinned maliciously. "And yet you have."

Renfield looked as if he'd just been slapped. He hiccupped, mouth working open and closed. Couldn't speak.

"Ah, see?" Dracula chuckled, lighting pressing the tip of one claw beneath his familiar's chin. "I know you, Renfield, better than you know yourself. The deepest, ugliest parts of you, and that is all you are now. Twisted, gutless filth." He spit out the final word.

Renfield hiccupped again. He looked down, fingers nervously fondling the last remaining button on his shirt. He mumbled under his breath.

"Speak up," Dracula sneered, snatching Renfield by the ear and yanking him forward, "if you have something to say. What excuse has your fractured, blundering mind come up with now?"

Renfield... smiled. A smile that grew and grew and reached his ears, and he laughed as if now he'd just been told the most hilarious joke. "I'm a failure! Twisted, gutless filth!" he guffawed, tears springing to his eyes. "Would you crush me like a worm under your boot, Master? Would you squeeze the life out of me? Would you extinguish the last bit of light in my body?"

"Would you promise to stay by my side?" Renfield asked, curling up against Dracula's chest. "If I promise to stay by your side for all eternity, to ensure you'd never know loneliness ever again, would you keep me as close as you do now?"

Dracula kissed the top of Renfield's head. "An eternity I promised, and an eternity is endless."

"Would you end me once and for all, Master?" Renfield laughed and cried. He took Dracula's wrist, squeezed. "Kill me, then! I'll let the voices find me and I'll run and they'll chase me, they'll chase me for all eternity and they’ll never find you!"

Dracula fell forward with a heaving gasp, hand clutching his wounded heart. He could feel fresh blood soak through his clothing.

Renfield yelped and took his Master by the arms, helped lie him back. "No, no, no!" he sobbed. "Please, please, no! Stay with me, please!" He clasped Dracula's hand in both of his, held it to his face, kissed the fingers and palm. "Please don't go, I'm sorry! Please!"

It hurt.

Why did it hurt?

---

When Dracula next woke, it was to the sound of rain falling outside. His coffin was left open, Renfield curled up against it, still holding his hand tightly.

Dracula stared at the ceiling. Could hear drops of water seep through the stones, patter against the floor.

"Master."

Dracula turned to look at Renfield.

Lovingly resting his cheek to his hand, kissing his palm. Smiling up at him with such pure devotion.

Dracula blinked twice, vision clearing. "Renfield..." he said hoarsely. Yes, this was Renfield, but not the same one he'd seen just a second ago.

This Renfield still gazed at him with longing, adoration, loyalty... fear, and sadness. His skin was too pale, his eyes too dark, his smile too... off. "Master," Renfield sighed, shoulders going slack. "There you are." He kissed Dracula's hand then rubbed it against his cheek.

"... When was the last time you slept?" Dracula asked flatly.

Renfield blinked his tired eyes, the bags heavy and black beneath them. "I don't know. I don't know what today is. I don't remember the day we came here. I counted the days in the asylum, but then I stopped... and so did time." He grimaced. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I don't know, I can't give you a straight ans--"

"Over three days, then," Dracula sighed bitterly.

"Three, four, five, six, seven, it doesn't matter. I have to keep you safe. I have to watch over you."

Dracula scowled, flashing his fangs. "Imbecile. If you pass out from exhaustion, who will guard me then?"

Renfield looked away, ashamed. "I..."

"Sleep, at least for an hour or two."

"I'm scared."

Dracula furrowed his brows. "I'm too weak to kill you, and you're too much of a coward to kill me. What do you have to fear? The silly little voices in your head?"

"The ones outside. The ones that pass by. The ones that giggle and play in the ruins. The ones who whisper sweet nothings and embrace among the protection of the old stones." Renfield flinched. "But they don't know we're here. They don't hear me. They don't see me. I see and hear them. I watch them. I watch them to watch you."

It would be wise to move at some point, especially if people were out searching for him and Renfield. Leave this country, go somewhere far away.

He snarled. Retreat. Flee. Hide. Cower.

Renfield whimpered as Dracula crushed his fingers in his iron grip. He bit his bottom lip and endured.

Another flare of pain in his ruined heart, and Dracula released Renfield. "Sleep!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "I command it!"

Renfield collapsed. He was fast asleep.

Dracula frowned. The pain tingled back into a dull throb. He stared at the top of Renfield's head, watching his face twitch in slumber. Listened to the ragged rise and fall of his chest.

Foolish boy, Dracula thought, slumping back into his coffin, you'll be dead soon, for good this time.

It hurt. It still hurt.

---

How many hundreds of years had it been since Dracula last tasted wine? Last appreciated the flavor and depth? And how strange it was that he could taste wine again on his familiar's tongue, sweet and heavy on his lips?

He drank wine as a vampire, but he tasted only ash. Fallow, rotten and damp earth. He drank bottle after bottle, screaming and yelling until he tasted something again. But no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he fought, it only left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

Yet as he kissed Renfield, as he devoured his mouth slick with wine, he could taste those flavors again. Oak, tannin, dry. He might've cried, he wasn't sure. He missed this taste. He missed the warmth of willing flesh. He missed a rapid pulse.

Renfield whined, pawing weakly at Dracula's chest. Only then did the vampire realize he'd been hungrily sucking the very air from the man’s lungs. He withdrew with a low growl.

"I thought I might faint!" Renfield tittered.

"My apologies," Dracula grumbled.

Renfield took Dracula by the hands, leading him along the shore of the lake. "You know," he smirked, "you're the first person to ever metaphorically and literally take my breath away."

Dracula grinned. "Ridiculous little boy."

"Charming old man," Renfield smirked wryly.

---

The storm picked up. Thunder crashed and rolled above their heads, and the stones trembled in their wake.

"Are you cold? Are you frightened?"

Dracula listened to the soft scratching on his coffin.

"May I hold you? Keep you warm?"

"You could never."

"... I did once before."

"..."

"I want to do it again."

"..."

"I'm sorry."

---

"I still don't know how to say I love you," Renfield said meekly, "in Romanian, that is."

"Te Iubesc," Dracula answered.

"Why, Count Dracula," Renfield crooned, "I love you, too."

"I let you have that one, you smarmy bastard." Dracula kissed Renfield, chuckling mirthfully against his lips. "I'll teach you how to say it in many other languages, too," he said.

"I know French and Punjabi. German? Russian? Turkish?"

"Ja, da, evet."

---

Dracula was awakened from his trance by Renfield's hysterical screaming. He nearly threw the lid off his coffin, quickly sitting up and quickly regretting he did. He placed a hand to his wound, raised his heavy head to look up at Renfield.

Renfield was covered in blood. Fresh blood, and not his own. Too much blood to still be alive. His lips were blue, manic eyes flooded with tears. Although he could clearly see Dracula watching him, he made no response, did not acknowledge him.

"Renfield!" Dracula snapped.

Some clarity returned to Renfield's eyes; he froze, and Dracula could hear his heart skip. "M-Master?" he whispered. His lips quivered; hiccuping, he buried his face in his bloodied hands. "No, no, no! I'm sorry!"

Dracula was at Renfield's side instantly, ignoring the burst of pain. "What happened?" he demanded, checking his familiar for any wounds. No, it wasn't his blood, but he could still be injured. "What did you do?"

Renfield sobbed.

"Robert!" Dracula snarled, ripping the hands from Renfield's face. "What did you do?"

"I tried!" Renfield wailed. "Blood! Life blood, pure blood! I--I tried!"

Dracula stepped back, silent.

"She came here again! White dress, pink lips, golden curls! But he never came. She was crying. She sounded so... so..." Renfield took a deep breath, tears mixing with drool. "She was perfect. She was warm. I--I followed her and I... I tried to bring her back, tried to-- But she hit me! She struck me and she kicked me and she called me such awful things and I couldn't fail again, I couldn't fail you again!"

Dracula said nothing, watching Renfield with a stony face.

"I picked up a rock and I... I..." He gasped, clawing at his throat as it started to close.

"Breathe."

Renfield gulped down air. "I hit her... and I hit her and I hit her and I..." He pulled at his hair, shivering. "The voices found me! They called those men over! I ran, I ran, and I promise you, Master, I promise you with every last drop of vile sludge in my wicked body, they did not follow me, I lost them, I got away! But I still..." He lowered his hands and looked at them. Saw the blood as if for the first time. "I only wanted little lives! Small lives! Spiders, moths, flies! Not, not...!"

"You fucking idiot!"

Renfield crashed into the wall, yelping as his arm snapped in half. He crumpled to the floor, only to hurriedly scamper onto his knees as his Master ran toward him.

"You incompetent leech!" Dracula yelled, grabbing the back of Renfield's head and slamming his face into the floor. Something broke with a wet crack. "Do you know the possible danger you've put us in? Put me in? We could be exposed!"

"Ma... Mas..."

Dracula tossed Renfield aside, sending him skidding like a rock across the cellar. "You have one simple job, and yet time and time again, you keep fucking it up!" he barked.

Renfield shifted on the floor. Tried to lift himself with one arm, the other hanging useless at his side. Blood gushed from his broken nose, right eye swollen.

"I risked so much bringing you back!" Dracula said. He took a deep breath, swept his hair back into place. Continued to ignore that burning, painful stabbing sensation in his chest. "I should have used the last of my powers to hypnotize that bumbling cop to take me to safety. I should have known better. I'm, I'm!" He spread his arms, laughing. "I'm Count fucking Dracula! You're not--you're not supposed to hurt me! To fuck with my head!" he sputtered and chortled. "I fuck with heads! I hurt!"

I fucking hurt.

Dracula stumbled, dizzy. He shook his head, pushed down the pain. "... People. I hurt people!" he shouted, striking a fist to his chest.

Renfield wheezed, gulping down a mouthful of blood. "I'm... sor..."

"Oh, yes, you're sorry. You're always sorry."

Renfield gagged as Dracula pressed his foot against his neck, pinning him to the floor. "Are you sorry still?" he asked, grin crooked. "You know, you know, you know, Renfield? I'm surprised I managed to break your spine in the first place. 'Cause, like, haven't I been saying you don't have one? Fuckinnnn' crazy, am I right?"

Renfield whimpered, clawing at Dracula's ankle with his only good hand. His mouth moved wordlessly.

"To watch the light in your eyes die again," Dracula sighed, "would put an end to this agony."

Renfield could only cry. His fingers loosened from Dracula's cloak. Eyes rolling back as they slowly closed. He wasn't dying, nor was he passing out.

He was submitting.

Dracula had to laugh at that. But it hurt, and there was no joy, no pride. He laughed, however, as hollow as it was.

"You're taking the fun out of killing you," Dracula spat, lifting his foot. "Of course you would." He turned, finally allowing the pain to cross his face, to choke for air.

Renfield didn't move, nor did he open his eyes.

"I'm going to kill you," Dracula said, fumbling into his coffin. "I'm going to sleep, and then I'm going to kill you. And you will lie there, and you will wait for me to end your life once and for all."

---

"You look upset, Robert. Is something the matter?"

Renfield raised his head, sniffing. "Oh, no, I'm sorry," he apologized. He looked out the carriage window, at the twinkling city lights. "I... It's nothing."

"It's something," Dracula said, tapping his cane. "I've known you long enough to know when you're lying, when you get lost running circles in your head."

Renfield blushed. "... Well, I... I suppose I'm just a little sad. We'll be leaving for England soon." He sighed. "I expected to only stay in Transylvania for a few days, but days turned into weeks, and soon it'll be a month since I... since I met you."

Dracula smiled. "Your wife and daughter must be so worried."

Renfield grimaced. "Please don't..." He closed his eyes. "You know I... I'm..."

Dracula gently tipped Renfield's head up, glove soft under his chin. Renfield reluctantly opened his eyes to meet Dracula's calm gaze. "You have made your decision, Robert. Are you having second thoughts?" he asked quizzically.

Renfield shook his head. "N-No! I love you!" He grabbed the Count's hand. "I... I love you, and as you said, I... I made my choice. And had I not, what sort of husband and father am I for even having doubts in the first place?"

"You are only human."

"I..."

"But I can change that."

Renfield furrowed his brows. "How do you mean?" he asked.

"You've chosen to stay by my side, to walk with me in a world that would condemn you," Dracula said softly, "you've given me so much already. But there is more I can give you. So much more." He pulled his hand free and sat back. "The price, however, may be too much for you to bear, I'm afraid."

"Name it!" Renfield squeaked. Dracula chuckled as his face turned red. "Name the price. I can meet it. I'm a lawyer. We'll work out a deal." He grinned playfully.

Dracula tilted his head. "Funny how you put it that way..."

"If society has already condemned me for my choice to abandon my life, my family, my reputation, just to be with you, at your side, as your... as your lover," Renfield swallowed, but the doubt quickly left him and he sat up straight, looked Dracula square in the eyes, "then the devil has already put me on his list."

"The devil," Dracula said, gripping his cane, "will be the least of your problems, my boy."

---

It hurts.

It's supposed to hurt.

---

Dracula stirred to life, a dull thumping behind his temples. His hand clutching his chest. Five days now--five days, and he'd barely healed, barely consumed more than the jars of blood left out for him. If he wanted to survive, he would need to hunt.

Dracula sighed, closing his eyes. After a moment, he slid his coffin open, rising slowly to a sit. He looked over to Renfield.

Of course he hadn't moved. It'd been hours, and he hadn't left the spot he’d been thrown. The site of his execution. But he was alive--breathing shallow, obviously in immense pain, but alive.

Dracula walked silently over to his familiar. His eyes were half open, staring at the far wall. Dried vomit, mostly all bile and blood, pooling under his head. He'd stopped crying, at least. His cheekbones were sunken, the shadows on his face having grown even darker.

"When did you last eat?"

Renfield didn't reply, didn't move, didn't blink.

"Speak."

"... Six. Seven."

Dracula exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've lost weight," he noted. "Did they not feed you in the asylum?"

Renfield licked his lips. "Your gifts... I only took what you gave me. Allowed me. Scraps from the feast."

"Their blood can only sustain you for so long, you fool," Dracula hissed. "You need sustenance. Actual food. You are not me, you will never be like me. Always a part of you will be human."

Renfield burst out laughing.

Dracula raised a brow. "What's so funny?"

"Heeh, but not for long," Renfield snickered, reaching up to chew on his fingers, the nails cracked and worn from constant nibbling, "I will soon be the earth. I will be the dirt that I am. Will anything grow from me, Master? Will any seed take to my remains?" He sniffled. "I would love flowers. Pretty white ones. White clovers, or perhaps dandelions. They're flowers, but they grow from weeds. Am I... am I worthy of weeds, Master? I shouldn't ask anything of you, and yet I wish to bear flowers still."

Why must you make everything hurt? "... I am giving you a stay of execution," Dracula said blankly.

Renfield looked up at him, blinking away tears.

"For a day, perhaps two. Prisoners on death row deserve a final meal, after all."

"I..."

"Open your mouth."

Renfield shrieked when his Master sliced open his wrist. "No!" He jolted upright, tried to sit, hand scrambling at the ground, at Dracula's legs. "No! You must preserve your blood! Please!"

"I gave you an order, servant," Dracula growled, low and menacing.

Renfield whimpered and sniffed back more tears. "But I..."

Dracula grabbed his familiar by the face, squeezed his cheeks and forced his mouth open. He held his wrist to his lips, blood spilling down Renfield's throat.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

Renfield swallowed two mouthfuls before both hands grabbed Dracula's arm. He wrapped his lips around the wound, suckling and moaning. Some color had returned to his face, his nose adjusting back into place as bruises faded away.

Dracula cursed, nausea washing over him.

Renfield instantly released his arm and crawled back, head bowed. "I'm sorry, I got--I got carried away, I'm sorry!"

"When night falls in an hour," Dracula scowled, "go outside. Find yourself something to eat."

"That--that's too dangerous!"

"Do you want me to break both your arms this time?" Dracula snarled, claws digging into Renfield's jugular, one little push from piercing flesh.

Renfield whined. A good enough response.

Dracula withdrew his hand, massaging his temples as he staggered back to his coffin. "Let no one see you," he grumbled.

"I won't," Renfield giggled, lowering his voice, "I'll be a little mouse. Să gasească-un soricel."

"Good." Dracula closed the coffin.

---

"You missed how it all tasted."

Dracula grumbled. "Yes," he said. "I'm embarrassed to admit such, but... Yes."

"And here I thought you just liked watching people eat," Renfield mumbled. He sat forward. "Had I known, I would have told you! I would have described the flavors and texture in great detail!"

"It's not something you tell somebody on the first date… or fifth."

Renfield laughed. "You once mentioned something about sweets," he said, cheeks turning red, "after you kissed me that... that time."

"I could taste the wine on your lips," Dracula said.

"Oh." Renfield pondered a moment. "Do you think you could taste whatever I eat or drink if you kiss me then?"

"I'd rather not find out. Like a mother bird feeding her hatchlings. No, I'll pass, I think."

"Well, do think about it, at the very least," Renfield said, smiling coyly, "and I would very much still like those kisses. I'll brush my teeth, promise."

"Oh, but I've far worse than you." Dracula grinned all his fangs.

"My, but what big teeth you have," Renfield teased.

"Big teeth, bigger--"

"--Feet. Yes."

---

"It's delicious."

"... What is it."

"Meat pie. It's hot but not too hot. The meat is delicate but chewy. The bread flakes easily, buttery and smooth. I wish I had milk. I would love milk. Cold, cold milk. Hehe! The mushrooms are so tender! Everything melts so perfectly, Master!"

Dracula listened to his familiar hum and sing and giggle as he savored his stolen meat pie. Just like a child on Christmas morning.

"You must be so hungry, Master."

"Hn."

"I'm sorry... Does it hurt?"

Yes. "No."

---

"Sometimes I wonder, when your eyes drift to another... What lust drives you then?"

Dracula laughed, stretching back on the bed. He looked down at Renfield, the man lying curled up beside him, a troubled expression on his face. "Are you referring to Madam Iris?" he asked.

"The way you looked at her tonight," Renfield mumbled, "I didn't know if you wanted to devour her... Or drink from her."

Dracula raked his fingers through Renfield's hair. "My, but I didn't expect you to be the jealous type."

Renfield blushed. "I'm not!" he huffed. He rolled over, turning his back to the vampire. "I just... I'd like to know where I stand."

Dracula growled. "You don't," he said, firmly forcing Renfield onto his back, "turn your back on me. And you don't get to question what I do and do not do with my prey. Especially not given what you threw away."

Renfield jolted upright, his face red for entirely different reasons. "I'm...!"

"What?" Dracula spat, tilting his head. "Am I wrong?"

"No! But--"

"Let it go, Robert," Dracula groused. "It's easier on your pretty, flustered little mind if you don't focus on such matters."

"You're... you're mocking me."

"I am. You're being petty."

"I'm just--"

"I'll break you in half tonight, fuck any remaining sense right out of you," Dracula snarled, taking Renfield by the throat. He pressed his lips to his cheek, breath chilling cold. "I'll work every word of every language you know from your mouth as I dry you out and use your worn, boneless body as my personal cock sleeve."

Renfield was silent.

Dracula grinned. "Your pulse is racing, my boy," he purred. "Have I made you speechless already? I've not even bent you over yet."

"You..."

"What?"

"... You promise?"

Dracula's toothy smile widened. "Christ, but you're a little shit sometimes."

---

Dracula didn't know what to say.

He looked over the lifeless woman's body, her face locked in terror, blood soaking her nightgown from the knife still embedded in her heart. Her long dark hair, her frightened empty eyes--

"She looks like her, doesn't she?"

Dracula finally looked up at Renfield.

"Miss Mina," Renfield said. He glanced at the woman's body before turning away. "So I thought..." He chewed on his nails, that haunting laugh bubbling up from deep within his chest. "But she cannot be rescued! Alas, sweet Miss not-Mina. This bumbling imbecile didn't accidentally bring you your savior, not this time. Oh, oh, poor Miss not-Mina!"

Renfield laughed and laughed and laughed as the vampire tore into her throat, drank her still rich and plentiful blood like a starved beast.

Renfield laughed and choked and doubled over, holding his cramping belly as Dracula gently laid his hands on his shoulders and turned him around.

"It hurts!" Renfield laughed and wailed as a hand caressed his cheek. "It hurts!"

---

"Chort!"

Dracula cackled as the storm swelled around him, tossing the Demeter in sheets of rain and heavy gale winds.

The captain, bound to the wheel with a crucifix in hand, stared at him in abject horror.

"Renfield!" Dracula shouted.

Renfield clung to the nearby mast, shielding his face from the elements.

"Do you know what he said? It was in Russian!"

Renfield shook his head. "I- I don't know!" he yelled back.

"Devil!" Dracula laughed. His cruel eyes met the captain's, sending a chill down his spine and warming his pants with piss. "A common mistake, but I’ll gladly accept it."

"My crew! You kill them!" the captain yelled.

"And their blood wasn't even that good, either," Dracula sulked playfully.

"To Hell with you, chort! To Hell with you!" The captain's furious gaze turned to Renfield. "To Hell with you, blyat!"

"He called you a whore!"

Renfield looked away. "Ah."

"Robert," Dracula said, holding out a hand, "come to me."

Renfield blushed, heart thrashing in his chest. He stared at the vampire, so elegant and poised, even as God attempted to rip the Demeter asunder. He stumbled and slid across the soaked deck, reaching out a hand-- Gasped as Dracula grabbed it and pulled him flush against his body.

"The gift I promised," Dracula said, "the deal I have to offer. Do you accept it?"

Renfield licked his lips, tasting salt. "I..." His eyes wandered over to the captain.

"Look at me!" Dracula snarled, grabbing him by the chin, forcing him to meet his red eyes. "I am the only one here! The only one who matters! And if you accept my gift, I will be your everything--your lover, your confidant, your Master, your God!"

Renfield paled, shaking uncontrollably. "Bound... bound to you for all eternity?" he whispered.

"Forever!" Dracula laughed. "Your life will be mine! Every thought, every feeling, it belongs to me! What you love, what you hate, what you fear, what you need and want are what I choose them to be! I'll keep you chained to my side, I'll love and adore you, I'll provide you with everything you need and so much, much more! But in return, you live and die by my word, you breathe and fight and kill for whatever I desire!"

Renfield was breathing heavily. He couldn't look away, couldn't move. "If I say no...?" he said quietly.

Dracula smiled softly. "You won't."

Renfield hesitated, cowering.

"Will you continue to be consumed by doubts? Plagued by your insecurities? Tied to a world that will never accept you?" Dracula scoffed. He squeezed Renfield's chin, delicately stroking his jaw with his thumb. His icy breath lingering on the man's lips. "Submit. That's what you were born to do."

Renfield's eyes widened. "... Promise," he choked. "You... promise?"

"I promise."

"For all eternity? Bound to your side?"

"An eternity is endless, and an eternity is what I offer."

Renfield swallowed, the rain bitter on his tongue. "Yours then," he said, "I'm yours."

"Say it like you meeeean it, sweetheart!" Dracula exclaimed to the roaring heavens.

"I'm... I'm yours!" Renfield shouted, fists clenched. "I accept! I'm yours!"

Dracula drove his fangs into Renfield's neck, and drank.

The sensations were overwhelming and indescribable; like a knife twisting into his chest, his cock half-hard and straining against his long white nightshirt. Renfield moaned and slumped into Dracula's hands, the rain hitting his glazed, lidded eyes.

Renfield thought he would die. Maybe he was dying. He would accept that, if that is what Dracula wanted.

Then it ended, and Renfield was breathing, trembling, lightheaded. He felt like puking.

"Demeter rebelled against the union between Hades and Persephone," Dracula hummed, stepping back. He bit into his wrist, tearing away a chunk of skin; black blood splattered the deck, carried into the wind. "But Persephone doomed herself by eating six pomegranate seeds grown from a tree in the Underworld. She would walk between two worlds, never truly belonging to one or the other."

Dracula held his bleeding wrist to Renfield's mouth. "Six seeds. A sip."

Renfield stumbled, the world spinning--all except Dracula, perfectly still and clear in his hazy mind. He closed his mouth around the wound and drank.

When Renfield next opened his eyes, the world was different. Colors were different, sights and sounds and scents. The world was so very bright, so very vibrant, and he could hear his blood singing in his veins.

"Well?" Dracula smirked.

"Sweet, but rotten," Renfield whispered, eyes glowing pale gold, "foul, wrong, wonderful!" He laughed and clung to his Master's side, whimpering. "I want more! You promised! I heard it in your blood! In my head! Lives, but not big ones! Small ones!"

"Endless," Dracula hummed, licking up his blood from the corner of Renfield's demented grin, "just like eternity."

Renfield laughed... or perhaps he cried. It sounded the same.

---

Renfield sat silent in the corner, face pressed against the cold wall. He did not speak, did not cry.

Dracula pushed aside his cloak, watching as the wound slowly knit itself closed.

"Renfield."

Renfield twitched, but did nothing more.

"Robert."

One blue eye stared back at Dracula balefully.

Dracula held out a hand. "Come to me."

Renfield turned, crawling slowly over to the vampire.

Dracula hesitated now. He sighed, placing his hand to Renfield's cheek. He slipped into his mind--an awful, chaotic, frightening mess. He reached through the static, the screams, the many voices that called for his demise and suffering, until he found his familiar's memory of that night.

The night he'd...

The night Renfield hadn't betrayed his Master.

Dracula opened his eyes, hand sliding back.

Renfield wiped the tears away, murmured, "It's a mess in there, I'm so sorry. Did you get lost? I still don't know where I am."

Dracula brushed Renfield's hair from his eyes. "You're here," he said, "bound by my side for all eternity."

Renfield hiccuped. Dracula caught him as he curled into himself, crying loudly. He pulled his familiar up into his arms, cradled him to his chest.

It didn't hurt anymore.