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Chapter Text

In an unusual turn of events, Dracula is happy.

He hasn't been happy in more than a century, at least not like this. There will always be a hole in his heart for his Martha, the love he had and always will have for her, but things are different now. He's gotten a second chance. The silly human boy who had stumbled into Hotel Transylvania nearly a year ago would have seemed an unlikely candidate had Dracula even believed in a second chance at a zing, but the boy grew on him, somehow wrangled his way into his heart without his notice, and planted himself firmly there. He'd hid it all, for a while, when he'd thought Jonathan had zinged with Mavis, had nearly killed himself trying to get him to come back for her after he'd messed it all up. He'd been wrong on that count, and Mavis was quite content to spend her time exploring the world on her own for now. And, amazingly, Johnny was content to stay with him.

He had his hotel, he had an amazing daughter he couldn't be prouder of, and he had Johnny.

He was happy. They were happy.

So, obviously, it couldn't last.

---

 

Things go bad one bright and sunny day (Johnny has learned that Dracula hates bright and sunny days, they make the hotel far too visible and even though the nearby populace doesn't seem to mind them too much, it still makes him a jittery kind of nervous that sets him on edge for days afterward) on one of the rare days Dracula needs to sleep. On such days, Johnny's taken to exploring the sprawling Haunted Forest (not so much the Land of the Undead at the edges (frankly, he's not sure how he got passed that the first time around and he has no desire to figure it out)) in an attempt to map the area, and it's array of creepy traps, for his own use. He only needed to fall into a pit of quicksand once to learn that this would be a necessary undertaking if he planned to stick around (which he does, thank you very much).

It is a little less haunted and a little more visible during the day, and Dracula is no fun at all when he's all sleep-grumpy, so why not get some work done?

Johnny's closer to the far side of the forest than the castle when he realizes something is amiss. Voices. He can hear voices. He has let himself in on the day-to-day affairs of the hotel (despite Dracula's initial protests on the matter) and he knows that no guests are expected today - yet another reason why he opted for exploring rather than sitting around in the lobby. And the fact that whoever is approaching is not on the main path that the monsters regularly use is also a perplexing one. He suspects they are up to no good.

Ignoring the urge to investigate, to see just who (or what, since what is an option now, with the abundance of monsters that have, in fact, proven to be real) is braving the hazards of this part of the forest (there are several, he's noted, including an orchard enchanted to throw fruit at any passersby, a field that has snakes instead of grass, and what is quite possibly a Siren hiding in a small lake, just to name a few), he starts the trek back to the safety of the magnificent castle that he's calling home.

He'll hurry back, using his map to navigate around the obstacles meant to trip up any unwanted guests, and warn them all that danger may be coming. It's more important that Dracula knows that something is coming. His curiosity will have to wait.

Its times like this he wishes his phone actually worked. He has it with him, if only because it keeps him from getting lost and doubles as a flashlight should he not get back before dark (Drac has found him by phone-light on more than one occasion (including the quicksand incident)), but it is useless as a phone out here. If he could just call back to the hotel, then Dracula could just fly out and meet him, grumpy as he'd be at being woken up early, and they could stop the strangers before they could even get close. As it is, he doubts he'll be all that far ahead of them, despite his advantage at knowing the terrain.

He's got about a mile left to go when he hears the voices again. There's one off to his left and another not far behind him. When he hears another to his right, he really starts to worry. Are they surrounding him?

Moving faster, he dodges through the maze of spider webs with a little less grace than usual. He has to get back to the Hotel. Something is wrong and they need to know. They'll be in danger - the guests, the staff, and Dracula. Mavis, at least, isn't there. She's off in Puerto Rico, intent on meeting a Chupacabra before she continues on with her travels.

"Almost there," he tells himself, as he breaks into a run. If he can get across the bridge, he'll be okay. They won't be able to follow him. "Almost there."

"Human!" He hears one of the voices call, and another voice shouts back in agreement. Alarmingly, this is followed by a command of, "Take him!" from someone who is presumably the leader of this gang.

But he's not letting them catch him. He runs, runs faster than he ever has before, until his legs burn and his throat is dry. He can see the light where the trees end. He's so close. Surely someone will see him if he gets that far, right?

Before he can break through, a weight like a truck hits him from the right sends him to the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Hands are on him before he can get it back, grabbing at his wrists, keeping them pinned together as the heavy weight lifts off of him. Someone else pulls his backpack off and starts riffling through it, and the last man circles around to look him over.

"Oh, you guys are in so much trouble," Jonathan finally finds the strength to speak, after someone has hauled him up to his knees. "You have no idea who you're messing with."

The man in front of him grabs his chin, tilts his head to the side to expose the spot on his neck where Dracula's left a set of puncture marks. He smirks, and nods to one of the others. "I think I do, actually," he says, as the second man shoves a strong smelling cloth at Johnny's face, forcing him to breathe in whatever poison it's been laced with.

The world gets dark quickly, but Jonathan would swear he hears a name that sounds familiar before he completely blacks out.

---

 

Dracula wakes, rested and relaxed, just as the sun is setting.

He stops by the kitchen for a pint of his favorite blood substitute to sate his thirst, nodding a greeting to his new chef - one who will not continuously attempt to abduct Johnny for the purpose of turning him into the main course. He checks in with the Suit of Armor to make sure nothing is amiss, and when he learns that nothing is, he inquires as to Johnny's location.

"He went out with his maps early this morning," his head of security reports. "He has not returned yet."

"I see," Dracula nods. He remembers Johnny telling him he was thinking about working on his project, but typically when he's gone this long it's because he can't get back, whether because he's lost or because he's gotten a little too close to one of the Haunted Forest's preventative measures. "I'll just go track him down, I suppose."

"Very well, sir."

Dracula takes his leave, eager to locate his companion. However, he makes the mistake of leaving via the lobby and finds himself pulled into a conversation with a trio of headless horsemen that holds him up for longer than intended.

By the time he actually does start looking for the tell-tale glow of Jonathan's phone, he is legitimately concerned as to why the boy has not yet returned. Something must be wrong.

He shifts into his bat and does a full circuit of the Haunted Forest, even briefly hovers over what Johnny has started calling 'Zombieland,' and yet he sees no trace of the light.

"Has he come back?" He demands of the first employee he sees upon returning to the hotel. They'll all know who he means. He gets a negative reply, and he flies off again before another word can be said. "Think, think, think," he tells himself, flying in circles. Last time Jonathan went out mapping, he'd been working near the snakefields. Dracula had had to warn him about that one in advance. He drops to land, intent on finding the nearest ghost and getting some answers.

He doesn't actually need to find one, though, doesn't even need to land. As he gets closer to the ground, his sensitive bat ears pick up on a noise. One of those songs that Johnny has on his phone is blaring; he's surprised he didn't hear it before. But if Johnny's using it for that, why won't he signal? Maybe he's not in trouble after all, maybe he just lost track of time.

The knot in his stomach loosens a little, and he takes off toward the sound, surprised when it leads almost all the way back to the castle itself. He's barely a half a mile into the forest. "Johnny?" He calls out, sharp eyes scanning for any sign of him.

"Aha!" He grins in triumph when he spots Johnny's backpack leaned against a nearby tree. Johnny's never far away from that. "Jonathan!"

No answer comes, though. And the volume of the music suggests that he is not employing those annoying little ear-pod thingies today, so there's no reason he shouldn't be able to hear Dracula's calls for him. The worry creeps back in and then multiplies tenfold when he spots the phone in the middle of the path, music still blaring. He reaches down for it, when the smell hits him - blood.

Blood. Blood, Johnny's blood, and that realization sends him into crazy mode, jaws snapping and eyes flashing red in incomprehensible outrage, unable to even form words.

When it stops - that's not to say that he's calm, not even close - he notices something else.

In his rage, he's woken Jonathan's phone. An unsent message, because it cannot be sent out here, is typed on the screen. 'You know where we are,' it reads.

The glow of the phone illuminates the letters 'VH' painted on the blood-stained grass.

And, oh, he knows.

Chapter Text

Johnny wakes to blurry vision and an awful lingering taste in his mouth. When his vision finally fades back into focus, he finds that he's in a dark, stone room. It's windowless, so he has no idea how long it's been since those thugs took him, hours or days. He struggles to sit up, surprised that they've left him loose - but, then, what kind of threat could he pose? - and finds that everything hurts.

"Ugh," he groans, as he makes it to the nearest wall, has to use it to help him get to his feet. A castle, he thinks, but not Dracula's. They've brought him to a castle. Not a bad choice, defensively, he has to admit.

Whatever they drugged him with makes him feel slow and off-balance, so he keeps one hand on the wall while he circles the room. It seems like it takes forever, and in the darkness, he's not even sure how far he's gone. He does finally happen upon a heavy wooden door, though, set back a little further than the rest of the wall, but it doesn't budge. No matter how hard he tries.

His phone's gone, as is his backpack. He's got nothing without those things. But, if any of it was left behind, he's sure Drac will find it and come for him.

"They don't know who they're messing with," he tells himself. But he's pretty sure that they do. Why else would they have taken his blood? He's sure they did that much. Dracula did it once, just took a little, so he could leave the mark on his neck. He'd done it to warn off a tribe of vampires that had spent time at the Hotel a few weeks back, who had taken a little too much interest in the human in their midst for both his and Drac's liking. He'd felt weak after, even from just that little bit. It felt a lot like this.

The door opens suddenly, filling the room with light that's blinding to his eyes after the total darkness. He winces against it, trying to make out the faces of those who enter, and he recognizes the blurry outlines of the people who'd tackled him in the Haunted Forest.

"Good, you're awake," one of them says, catching his arms, twisting them painfully behind his back.

Johnny squirms and tries to wiggle his way to freedom, but to no avail. The hulking thug doesn't even bother holding on tighter. He slumps down in temporary defeat and demands, "What do you want with me?"

A grin crosses his captor's face, as he calmly replies that, "Oh, you? You're the vampire bait."

Yeah, they definitely know who they're dealing with.

He's force-marched out of the room and through a winding maze of cobwebbed hallways and up and down countless cracked stone steps. He trips on a broken one, stumbles and smashes a nice gash into his knee, which just feels awesome, especially when Tweedledee and Tweedledum don't seem to care and continue to drag him up a few more steps before he gets his feet under him again.

They come to a stop just inside of a big room - ballroom, maybe, he thinks - and the two thugs shove him forward and leave the room, closing the heavy, wooden doors firmly behind them. He tries those, too, but finds they've been securely locked. He throws himself against them a time or two, but all that gets him is a sore shoulder.

"You won't get away."

The voice comes from the other side of the room and Jonathan spins around to find the leader of the little gang of fools who'd taken him lurking by a stone dais.

"Your plan won't work, you know," he lies, hoping he can downplay Dracula's feelings enough to convince this maniac that he didn't take anyone of importance. He doubts it will be successful, but he has to try. "I'm just a convenient food source, is all. He doesn't care about me. He won't come."

"We took your blood," the man says, seemingly unconcerned with Johnny's warning.

Unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the glaringly obvious observation, Johnny quips back a snarky, "No, really? I hadn't noticed."

"We left it for him to find. Enough for him to think you'd been severely injured, but not killed. Enough to make him mad, so that he'd come after you."

Johnny blinks, stunned by the cold, calculating way the man talks and thinks, even the way the guy looks at him, like he's committed some sort of heinous crime merely by existing. Stunned by the realization that, yeah, that'll work. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because," he says, as calmly as if they were discussing something as trivial as the weather, "anger makes people do stupid things. It makes vampire-vermin do stupider things."

"And this isn't stupid?" Johnny challenges. "Baiting a vampire is a smart thing to do now?"

"It's a hazard of the job, being a vampire hunter."

Johnny squares his shoulders, stands a little straighter, as the threat registers. The name he'd heard earlier, as he lost consciousness comes back to him: Van Helsing. Everyone knows that name. In all the not-quite-stories he's heard about vampires before he'd known they were real, the Van Helsing name has always been there, too, playing the brave hero to the villainous vampire. His hands ball into fists at his sides, and he says, firmly believing, "You'll never hurt him."

But the man laughs at him. As reactions go, it's the last thing Jonathan expected. "Boy, do you know where we are?" Before Johnny can reply, he gestures to the wall above the door where Johnny entered. There's a portrait hanging there. Aged with time and dust, and old scorch marks have ruined the bottom corner, but Johnny knows it. He's seen it before.

It hits him like a punch to the gut, staring at the painting of Dracula and Martha. "We're... we're in Castle Lubov."

"We've rebuilt portions, but from the outside, it still appears to be in ruins. Now it is called Castle Van Helsing," he explains, looking annoyingly smug, "I've claimed it as my base, since it was my great grandfather's finest victory."

"Victory!?" Johnny demands, so angry that he finds the courage to go stalking up to the hunter, getting right up in his face despite the inherent risk of provoking the man. "You call what happened back then a victory? It wasn't even a fight! A mob burned this place down and killed an innocent woman. I'd call your great-grandfather a coward, not a victor."

The man's hand curls around his neck, holds tight, an infuriated scowl on his face. "Who do you think sent those concerned townsfolk to the castle that night? Who do you think told them about the monstrous secret hidden in Castle Lubov?"

"They weren't hurting anybody," Johnny defends, because he knows it's just as true now as it was then. Dracula has never hurt anyone, never fed off of a person (excepting Johnny himself (but that was for his protection, so technically...)), and he doubts the lovely Lady Lubov harmed any humans, either. Even if they might have deserved it. "If anyone's a monster here, I'd say it's you."

The fingers tighten around his neck, the nails biting into his skin. He's short of breath now, and he's gasping for air when the hand releases him, letting him drop to his knees. The man, this Van Helsing descendant, casually strolls away from him, gazing up at the picture on the opposite wall. "Vampire kind must be destroyed," he says, "And you as well, anyone found helping their cause, involved with them, will pay the same price."

Johnny coughs and staggers to his feet, waving a hand toward the general direction of outside once he gets his breath back. "Dude," he says, "this is Transylvania. Almost everyone here is super into vampires. All the tourists, all the locals. You can't stop everyone."

"I only have to stop you."

Johnny stays silent, waiting for an explanation.

"My family has already taken Count Dracula's wife from him. Now he's got you. And if I take you, then surely he will retaliate, and that is all I'll need to make the people turn on him, just as they did before. They're ignorant of the threat he poses, but they won't be that way much longer."

He realizes that Van Helsing must not know about Mavis, or else she would be at risk, as well. Another threat against humankind, another tool to use against her father. He silently vows to keep her existence a secret.

"So, what?" he asks, "You're just going to kill me? I'm human, aren't I a little out of season for you?"

"Anyone who associates with vampire scum is just as bad as vampire scum. Worse, even. You should know better. Your instincts should be screaming at you to get away from that snakes nest of evil creatures and yet you continue to stay!"

But of all the 'evil creatures' he's met, none has terrified him nearly as much as the human before him. "Why are they evil? Just because you say so?" He demands, "Hardly anyone's even known they've existed for the last hundred years, so clearly they're not doing much harm. They've been hiding from you. You can terrify Count Dracula into more than a century of hiding and he's the monster?"

Before he can answer, the big doors at the end of the room open, and the two thugs step in. One nods to their boss, and though the meaning of it is lost on Johnny, Van Helsing sighs and ushers them forward.

"Hold him," he orders, and within a moment, Johnny finds himself once again trapped between the two hulking figures. "And yes, my boy, vampires will always be monsters for as long as they're allowed to exist."

Johnny doesn't know where the stake came from (wooden, but tipped in pointed silver), but if this is what's going to happen to him, if this is what Dracula is going to find when (not if, but when) he shows up, he knows it going to be bad.

Dracula will kill them all or die trying.

---

The rickety, old hearse screeches to a stop right at the doors of Castle Lubov.

It had been a smart move coming this way. They'd all been expecting a bat, and here he had a car. They'd all been expecting him to come alone, but a couple of phone calls had earned him companions - and he wonders if they even knew about mummies and werewolves and frankensteins and invisible men. It's easy to catch the handful of guards unaware with that element of surprise on their side. It's almost like they have the upper hand, like this will be easy.

"Come on," Dracula calls to his friends as they storm the door.

But he knows it won't be.

He knows the Van Helsing's, their merciless tactics and die-hard beliefs. He knows that Johnny isn't safe, won't be safe until Dracula's got him back and Van Helsing is dealt with.

It's clear, however, that no one had been overly concerned with Dracula getting into the ruined castle. The lack of guards once they're inside proves that much. And that? That is worrisome.

"Hey, Drac," Wayne says, sniffing for the scent of their human friend. "I've got something, but it splits."

"Is it safe to split up?" Griffin asks, and he's met with numerous responses both for and against. However, the group finally decides that Wayne and Murray will follow one trail, and Frank, Griffin and Dracula will follow the stronger one.

They're heading off towards what used to be, Dracula recalls, the magnificent ballroom where he and Martha were married, where they said their vows and danced together amongst friends and family. The sinking feeling in his stomach seems to imply that what he'll find there now will be more on par with his last time here, when he watched it burn.

Frank claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he moves ahead, but its effect is lost as the memories of this place hit him. There's nothing good left here and he doubts that's going to change.

"Up here," Frank calls, and Dracula turns a corner to find the heavy, old doors firmly shut. It only takes one good hit for Frank to bust through, and then things get a little crazy. A duo of well-muscled, well-armed thugs are waiting on the other side, and they waste no time in attacking.

However, they were likely not anticipating having to fight anything other than vampires. They don't have the muscles or the weapons to take down Frank, and Griffin proves to be a helpful distraction in the fight, too.

This leaves Dracula free to rush to the other side of the room. To the familiar form slumped across the stone table.

"Johnny," he breathes, sure that his zing will be fine so long as he can somehow manage to get them all out of here in one piece. He zooms over, hands settling on Johnny's shoulders, rolling the boy off of his side to his back. And then he stumbles away as his world implodes.

There's a stake.

A stake through Johnny's heart.

His shirt is soaked with blood, so much blood, and for the first time in his long, long, long life, the sight of blood makes him feel nauseatingly sick. He forces himself to move forward again, one hand slowly stroking the side of Johnny's cold, pale face.

"No, no, no," he's saying, over and over again. "This can't be... No, Jonathan, my love, no."

Johnny's not moving, not talking, not doing any of the things that make him Johnny and Dracula feels himself flash into and out of his fits of red, jaw-snapping rage more times than he can keep track of. He can barely focus and it takes him an inordinate amount of time to realize that the reason his vision keeps blurring out of focus is because he's crying. Crying over this stupid human boy who stole his heart when he didn't even think he had one anymore.

This time, when he snaps into his furious mode, he stays there. Pulls the bloody stake out of Johnny's lifeless chest and swears that he'll put it in Van Helsing if it's the last thing he does. After all, he thinks, recalling what he'd told Johnny when he'd asked about them, what wouldn't a stake kill?

He turns to find his friends, the four of them, all there, staring at the sight before them with varying degrees of disbelief and anger on their faces (even the invisible ones, he's sure).

"Drac..."

"Don't," he says, voice cold and deceptively calm. "Just... Take him home. Make sure Mavis is safe."

"If that's what you want," Wayne says, but he reaches out, catches Dracula's arm before he can go storming off to do something stupid. "But, Drac, you don't have to..."

"I do."

"You don't have to do this alone," Wayne finishes. "We're here for you, with you. Whatever you need."

It's enough to snap Dracula out of rage mode. "I need you to take Johnny home for me," he says, sadly. "I will deal with Van Helsing. He won't have the chance to hurt anyone else I care for."

Wayne lets him go this time, and he's dimly aware of the others as they move toward Johnny's body on the stone table, and he barely hears their hushed whispers as they work out how they're going to do this. He has a job of his own to do, and nothing can distract him.

He steps into the hallway outside of the ballroom and bellows, "Van Helsing!" as loudly as possible. The ruins of the castle shake with the volume of it, and he hears the crash-bang of fallen objects here and there.

"Van Helsing! If you want me so bad, come and get me."

Nothing.

"You coward, face me!"

No one comes.

"What?" He challenges, because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do if he can't end this now. How is he supposed to do anything knowing that that bastard is still out there breathing, living, existing when Johnny isn't. "You can only take out vampires with angry mobs? You can only kill innocent humans?"

More silence.

He'll have to hunt his prey down, then. He'll turn into his bat and hunt and hunt and hunt until he's found whatever rock Van Helsing is hiding under and that's where it will end. He'll...

There's a hand on his shoulder, then, and he whirls around in expectation of an attack from his enemy, but finds no one there. "Griffin," he breathes, lowering the bloody stake. "What is it?"

"Johnny... he's alive. Barely."

There's this painful lurch in his chest, and he stares in disbelief at the invisible man. "What? How?" How can Johnny be alive after being stabbed through the heart, after losing so much blood?

The invisible hand tugs at his arm, urging him to follow. And he does. The stake clatters, forgotten, to the floor and they rush back into the ballroom.

"The stake must have just missed his heart. He's still breathing, but it's slow and shallow," Wayne explains, making room for Dracula amongst the circle that has formed around the table. "Drac, could you turn him?"

Dracula isn't sure. He's only done it once before, when he turned Martha. She'd asked him, begged him, and he'd finally given in, but she hadn't been dying at the time. He doesn't know what effect that will have on the process, if Johnny even has enough blood left in his system for the poison in his to work.

"I... I can try," he says, raising his own wrist to his mouth and sinking his fangs in deeply. Dark red drops run down his arm to drip on the stone table, mixing with Johnny's congealing blood. He lets his arm hover over the hole in Johnny's chest, watches the blood flow into the fresh wound long after he feels dizzy with the effects of giving so much away.

It only stops when he sways forward and nearly falls, but Murray catches him and sits him down. "Whoa. You okay there, buddy?"

He's not. He's dizzy and weirdly cold and despite everything that's happening, he just wants to lay down and pass out. But he can't. "Take him home," he says again. "We won't know if it worked until later. And Van Helsing's still..."

"Forget Van Helsing, Drac," Griffin tries."You're coming back with us. You're too weak to fight him right now and it seems the chicken has flown the coop, anyhow. We'll find him later, okay?"

Dracula wants to argue with them. Wants to stay here and hunt down the threat to his family before he can try anything else to hurt them. But Griffin's right. He's in no shape for a fight and Johnny needs him. If he does turn, he'll need to be there to help him through it. If he doesn't... well, if he doesn't, then he'll have plenty of time to hunt that bastard Van Helsing down.

"Alright, alright," he says, letting Griffin and Wayne help him to his feet while Frank carefully carries Johnny's motionless body. "Let's go home."

Chapter Text

Johnny's laid out on the bed that they dragged into Dracula's room long ago, not long after Johnny decided to stick around (Johnny needed someplace to sleep, after all, and they needed somewhere a little less coffin-like to, well, not sleep), and Dracula sits, perched on the edge of the bed, holding one of Johnny's hands tightly in his own. Johnny's been stripped of his ruined, blood stained shirt. They've cleaned his wounds as best they can. Now, it's all just waiting.

So he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And...

It's working.

It has to be working.

Dracula can't think of any other reason why the bloody wound in Johnny's chest would appear to be healing, so it must be working, right? Or maybe he's just that out of it, that the edges of the angry, red puncture wound are starting to look a little more pink.

He doesn't even know how long he's been sitting here. The dark room yields no clues as to the time of day; the time since the rescue has all blurred together into one long, heart-shattering moment. He's gotten good at guessing, though, so he's pretty sure that the sun is up outside, but he doesn't know how long it's been that way, if it's coming up or going down. It feels like it's been forever now, but the implausibly slow progress of the transformation tells him otherwise.

Wayne pops in with another bag of blood substitute for him. He's lost track of how many of those he's had, too, because they just keep bringing them, telling him to drink, to replenish what he gave to Johnny. Mindlessly, he drinks and drinks until he's sucked the thing dry.

"Any change?"

"You tell me," he answers, needing fresh eyes to make sure he isn't imagining this.

The werewolf looks Johnny over carefully, eyes lingering on the horrible wound. "It... it looks a little better? But he looks worse?"

Wayne's observations match his own. "He'll get worse first, because of the poison that will turn him. That's the dangerous part. It can nearly kill a healthy human, the risks of it on one already so close..."

"Johnny's strong," Wayne says, sounding way more confident in that fact that Dracula feels right now. "If he can pull through for anyone, it'll be for you." He claps a paw on Dracula's shoulder and leaves him to his bedside vigil.

He gives Johnny's hand a squeeze, fingers moving in soothing circles over the still too-cold, too-pale skin, while his other hand smoothes through Johnny's crazy hair. "He's right, my love, you can do this. I know you can," he whispers, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Johnny's forehead.

---

Being dead is surprisingly painful.

The stake had burned when Van Helsing had slammed it into his chest and there had been a few seconds of red hot pain as he'd fought it. He'd felt the warm rush of blood on his chest, could feel his heartbeat slamming like a bass drum up in his head amidst fading thoughts of terror and of Dracula. But that was it. That was all he remembered of the moment of his death.

So why does it hurt now?

He whines and squirms, tries to escape whatever it is that's brought back the pain tenfold, but there's no relief from it. Anyway he moves, it still hurts. It's epicenter, he's sure, is where that damned stake hit, and from there it spreads out, coursing through his body from his head to his toes to the tips of his fingers. It feels like fire burning in his veins, like he just stepped on a nest of those brutal red ants and they're all slowly marching outward from the wound in his chest. He was unaware that it was possible for his hair to hurt, but it totally does and this is so so so unfair. Ugh, even his eyes hurt!

How long will this last? Can't it just stop? He wishes it would stop, wishes he could just sleep, try to cling to dreams of Drac and Mavis and the monsters who've become his family here. Can't it just be over?

But something breaks him out of his attempt to give up on all of this. "Johnny," he hears, but he has to be dreaming, hallucinating, torturing himself. Because he's dead and Dracula isn't (at least he better not be, or Johnny is going to be really, really pissed at him) and so he can't be hearing him. He can't.

"Jonathan, my love," he hears again, "If, if you can hear me, I know that this is painful. I know it and I am so sorry that it has to hurt, but if you can get through it, you'll be okay. I've got you, you'll be okay."

He swears he feels a soft, gentle touch on his hand, then, the familiar feel of fingers lacing with his own, and he's surprised to realize that the pain fades a little bit there. It's enough. Enough that he can focus on that one spot that doesn't hurt to keep from drowning in the overwhelming pain of everything that does.

It's the only thing that keeps him hanging on as the pain washes over him in endless, constant waves.

---

By the time the painful part starts, the wound is gone. Fresh, pale skin covers the spot where that damned stake had been, like it never happened. Even the scabbed over cut on Johnny's knee is gone now, as are the fang marks from where Dracula bit him. His old scars have faded, too, the ones that came with a clumsy, adventurous life of exploration and a not so fantastic childhood. And now they're all gone.

Dracula watches him carefully. This is the dangerous part, the part where it could all fall apart and he could still lose Johnny in spite of the chance to save him.

When Johnny starts whimpering, when he sees the tears on Johnny's face, he feels a flash of regret. Was it really fair to put Johnny through all of this pain, just so Dracula wouldn't have to face losing anyone else?

A particularly violent attempt to squirm away from the inescapable pain forces Dracula to act. He blockades the side of the bed that Johnny just almost rolled off of and calls out, "Johnny!" When he gets no response, he tries again, "Jonathan, my love," he says, and when Johnny stills on the bed, he keeps going. "If, if you can hear me, I know that this is painful. I know it and I am so sorry that it has to hurt, but if you can get through it, you'll be okay. I've got you, you'll be okay," he swears, and, having lost his grip with all the struggling, catches Johnny's shaking hand in his once more, doesn't let go.

---

The changes start slowly.

The first, most noticeable, is the slight delay in the way the pain is hitting. The pulses of pain are no longer matching up with the rapid-fire beats of his racing heart. They're coming much less frequently now, more like the slow lull of waves on a beach, and the pain isn't quite as intense anymore.

He lets out a deep breath, one he didn't even realize he'd been holding and loosens the surprisingly rigid grip he's had on Dracula's hand. He feels fingers flex under his own, but the hand stays there, and he can feel it when Dracula starts tracing his thumb over Johnny's wrist.

Everything seems sharper now, too. His hearing (the sounds of pacing, furry footfalls out in the hallway, the clinking of armor approaching) , his sense of smell (mostly just the overpowering metallic tang of his own blood), even what he's feeling (swears he could feel every ridge of Dracula's fingerprints dragging on his skin), and wow, this is weird. He's sure that if he could manage to force his eyes open, that would be different, too.

That's about when the realization hits him, too. He's clearly not dead, he knows now, but he must have been pretty close for Dracula to have thought this was his best chance, probably his only chance.

They'd talked about it once, after Dracula bit him that one time. Just hypothetical questions and ridiculous scenarios they'd thought would never happen. Dracula had said he'd do it, if Jonathan ever asked him to. And Jonathan had agreed. He'd always planned to ask, he thinks, because he'd never imagined staying human and growing old so quickly in comparison to Dracula's slow aging. But if given the choice, he probably would have waited until he was a little older, until he looked less like someone who could pass for Dracula's son and more like someone who could pass for his lover.

But there's no more waiting. It's done.

He's a vampire.

---

The flitter of bat wings draws Dracula out of his hawk-like watch over Johnny's restless sleep. There is only one person that could be and she should definitely not be here.

"Mavis! My sweetheart, what are you doing here?" He asks, surprisingly calm for all the panic he feels. He sweeps her into a big hug the second she's in human form and holds on tight. "You were safe and sound in Puerto Rico! I told Murray to tell you to stay there."

When he finally does let her go, she gives him a look that reminds him of her mother on those rare occasions they disagreed. "Really, Dad? Uncle Murray tells me that Johnny almost died and you thought I'd stay away?"

"I... I suppose not," he admits. He'd been hoping she would listen for her own safety (and his mental health), but he can't say he's terribly surprised. "Were you careful? No trouble on the flight home?"

She shakes her head and moves to the bed where Johnny's still twisting in pain in his sleep. "No, it was fine," she says, and he can see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Is he okay?"

Dracula sighs a heavy, tired sigh and reclaims his spot on the edge of the bed. "He's turning. It shouldn't be too much longer. The poison's wearing off now. As long as he wakes up, everything will be okay."

"Okay," she echoes, as if somehow she hadn't thought it would be.

Chapter Text

Finally, things stop hurting. Slowly, the pain recedes down his fingers and toes, to his arms and legs. He expects it to center back on the stake wound, where it started, but now the only thing that hurts is his stomach. It's a feeling like he hasn't eaten in weeks. He's pretty sure he knows why.

When he finally does manage to force his eyes open, he's surprised to find that everything is blurry.

"Weird," he mumbles, but a dry mouth and a raw throat devour anything recognizable in the word and leave him coughing.

This, however, seems to get the attention of the other occupant of the room and he's more than a little surprised to see (a blurry outline of) Mavis instead of Dracula because he's sure Dracula has been here with him. While he has no idea why she is here and not searching for a Chupacabra in the Puerto Rico, he's happy to see her.

"You're awake!" She exclaims, the widest smile on her face as she rushes toward him. She helps him sit up and then catches him into what is quite possibly one of the best hugs he's ever had. "Oh, no," Mavis says, the smile gone from her face when she pulls away. "Dad is not gonna be happy about this..."

"Huh?"

She glances toward the door, where she finally managed to coerce her father into taking a break less than half an hour ago. He'd still been wearing the same clothes he'd found Johnny in, all bloodstained and ruined. She'd talked him into cleaning up and getting some rest and now... "That he missed you waking up, I mean. He's been here with you the whole time and he's been so worried."

Johnny frowns, hates that he's the reason Dracula's been upset - hates that Van Helsing's plan got to Dracula - and cringes when pointy, new fangs dig into his lips. "Ow!"

"They take some getting used to," Mavis warns him. "I remember how many times I did that after I lost my baby-fangs."

"Fangs..." He looks down at his chest (why is everything blurry? This is so not what he expected!) and sees no sign of what had to be a wickedly gross wound. His hand comes up to where the marks on his neck have been and those are gone, too. Even the old ache in his wrist (where he broke it when he was little) is gone. "I have fangs!" He freezes, as another thought hits him, "Can I fly?"

Mavis laughs at him, and keeps him from trying. "No, not yet. You have to learn. You'll have a lot to learn - flying, time freezing, hypno-eyes..."

"Speaking of eyes," he manages, "don't vampires have like, super awesome vision?"

She nods slowly, not sure where this is going.

"Then why is everything blurry?"

"Did you take your contact thingies out?"

And nope, that's it. He'd learned his lesson about wearing his glasses into the woods, too, so he'd had contacts in when he was taken and no one would have thought to take those out. It proves easier than usual to take them out this time, the last time, perhaps because of super awesome vampire coordination.

Suddenly everything is crystal clear in a way it's never been before. More details, more colors. He feels like he could pick out a needle in a haystack with ease, he can see that sharply. "This is so cool."

"Anything else?"

"Um," he starts. "I'm... I think I'm hungry?"

"Oh, duh," Mavis answers. "Do you want to come with me or stay here?"

Johnny slides carefully off the edge of the bed and tests his weight. "I'll go with you. I have a feeling I've spent enough time laying here doing nothing."

Mavis lets him follow, but argues that, "I wouldn't say recovering from being stabbed in the chest counts as nothing, really," as they slowly move through the familiar halls of the hotel. They pass a suit of armor and they both know that the news will surely reach Dracula momentarily.

They find the new chef well prepared when they finally arrive in the kitchen. Many options are available: blood substitutes, near blood, and a limited supply of the real thing are all present in varying types.

"What should I-" Johnny starts, but sure enough, Dracula appears. And with a 'whoosh' that speeds by in more of a blur than anything recognizable, Johnny finds himself pinned against the closest wall. Dracula is there, eyes aglow and jaws snapping.

"Dad!" Mavis is shouting, but Johnny tries to stay cool in spite of the fact that crazy-mode hasn't been pointed at him since he first showed up here. "Dad! Stop! What are you doing!?"

"Drac?" Johnny tries, hands coming up to settle on Dracula's arms. "I'm fine, it's okay."

Dracula lets out a breath he might as well have been holding since he realized Johnny was missing and his eyes fade from red down to that eerie blue that usually only pops up when he's talking about Martha. From there, the blue fades and he pulls back enough to crush Johnny against him in a hug so tight that it is actually painful.

"Do not ever scare me like that again, Jonathan," Dracula demands, with notes of lingering terror and fresh exhaustion in his voice. In response, Johnny steals a kiss, something he never thought he'd get to do again, and revels in the fact that they don't have to breathe as often and so this can last and last and last.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," Johnny says quietly when they do finally separate.

"I think I'll just leave you two alone," Mavis interrupts as she starts to back away, a happy smile on her face. "But, Dad, feed him, will you?"

"Yeah," Johnny agrees, "I'm kinda starving. My stomach's making more noise than that Banshee convention ever did."

Dracula grabs a bottle of real blood off the platter the chef had set up, presses it into Jonathan's hands. "You need this for now. You can try the other kinds later, once you're more adjusted," he explains, watching carefully as Johnny downs the pint of O-negative without a complaint.

"That's... weird. Oddly filling."

---

Later, once Johnny's new-vampire thirst is temporarily sated, Dracula speeds them back upstairs to their room so they can speak in private. "These were not exactly the conditions I imagined turning you under," he starts, a lengthy apology already composed in his mind (though he's sure he can never make amends for turning someone against their will, if that's what he's done). He'd imagined something not unlike the wedding that had taken place before he'd turned Martha, honestly. He'd imagined that he'd have time to teach Johnny about the things that he'd need to learn (the bat thing, the super speed, vampire history), and the things that would change (like the part where even the slightest bit of sunlight is near fatal for years, and the way his new senses would affect his life) before going through with it. "But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have made it... I wasn't sure you'd make it even with my blood. When we found you..."

"Whoa, there. Wait." Johnny stops him, "I told you I was okay with this. Like you said, not the ideal conditions, but you don't need to apologize for saving my life. I know what Van Helsing did to me. I know how you must have found me. Even I thought I was dead, okay? So thanks for not letting me stay that way."

"I know what he wanted finding me to do to you," he continues, rambling on even though Dracula looks like he's afraid to hear what comes next. "He wanted it to send you over the edge so he'd have a reason to get the people to turn on you. And I'm glad it didn't work."

"It did," Dracula admits, his eyes on the floor. "When we got there, I... I thought I was too late. I thought Van Helsing had taken you from me and I was prepared to fight him to the death if I had to. I told the others to take you home, to keep Mavis safe, and I went after him, but he was gone." He moves to stand in front of Johnny pulls him in close again. "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you."

Johnny relaxes into the familiar feeling. "You didn't," he says, leaning up for another long, slow kiss. "I'm alive," a kiss, "I'm a vampire," another, "and you're stuck with me for a very, very, very long time, so calm down."

Dracula does, reveling in the reality of those wonderful facts. In those hopeless moments where he'd thought he'd been too late to save his zing, his Jonathan, he'd been sure that he'd never be happy again. Surely he'd never find a third zing, wouldn't have wanted one even it were possible. No, all he'd wanted in those dark moments was some old-fashioned, bloody, monstrous revenge.

But this, he thinks, as he tangles his fingers in Johnny's messy hair and slides his tongue over pointy new fangs, he can definitely be happy with this.

Chapter Text

There was one thing that Van Helsing did not factor into his plan to use Johnny to bring down Dracula. Van Helsing was unaware of the link between Johnny and the townsfolk of Transylvania. After Mavis' party, when they discovered that humans were a little more tolerant than believed, Johnny became the sort of go-between for the town and the monsters. While the hotel's location miraculously remained a secret, Johnny organized a few small events wherein willing monsters would visit the town and interact with those who supported them.

The people of Transylvania knew him, liked him. It was Johnny who'd talked Dracula into the carefully arranged visits, and Johnny who always accompanied any monster that went into town. It was Johnny who told them all fantastical stories about the time he'd spent with the monsters and carefully corrected the fallacious assumptions about them.

So, when Frank and Wayne drive into town, the populace gathers quickly in response to the odd, unplanned visit. The only other time Johnny has not been with them was the first, when they'd been going after him. They all know something is wrong.

"Where's Johnny!?" Someone in the crowd calls, and several others echo the sentiment, anxious "yeah!"s follow, as worried groups gather around the familiar monsters.

By the time they've relayed the story to their loyal fans, the crowd is nearly rioting.

There are shouted calls for a counter-attack, disbelieving sobs, even offers to donate blood if needed.

Wayne and Frank turn them all down. They already have a plan.

"Spread the word," Frank calls in his booming voice, "Dracula will be here tomorrow night. Anyone who wants him can come get him."

---

It's been a month since the attack and they've heard nothing from their enemy. They've been tucked away in the safety of the castle while Johnny acclimates to being a vampire, but they can't keep living locked away like that.

So, today they make their stand.

Dracula had wanted to go alone, to ensure that both Johnny and Mavis remained safely out of harm's way, but of course, neither had agreed to let him endanger his life alone.

The drive into town seems to take forever, but really, it goes way too fast. Soon enough, he's standing in the stone square, waiting for something bad to happen.

A lot of their fans have turned up, too, forming a protective ring around Dracula, where he stands with Jonathan at one side and Mavis at the other, both partially hidden by the protective material of his cape. Other monsters have turned up, as well, Frank, Wayne, Murray, and Griffin are all still around. He's brought several of his knights out from the castle. Many loyal guests have turned up - a family of Skeletons, a couple of Cyclops, the Hydra, even Bigfoot, who is getting a lot of attention - to show their support, too. A portion of the armor knights and zombies from the hotel have been brought along, as well, for added protection.

"What if he doesn't show up?" Mavis wonders, when several hours have gone by with no sign of the vampire hunter.

Dracula doesn't have an answer. He'd been sure that this would work, that a challenge of this magnitude would force Van Helsing's hand, make him do something.

But it doesn't.

Dawn's nearly here and Johnny needs to be back at the castle well before the sun comes up. While rattled by the lack of an attack, they assure the crowd that this must mean Van Helsing has given up (even if no one really believes that), they thank them for their help, and they take their leave.

"Now what?" Johnny asks, once they're on their way back to the Hotel. "He's still out there, he could try something else and if he knows about Mavis now..."

"I know," Dracula says, just as worried as Johnny is, since they both know what Van Helsing is capable of, "I know, I know."

"Could we track him? I know it's been a while, but maybe there's still a scent trail that Winnie could follow at Castle Lubov?" Mavis suggests, though even she knows it's a long shot.

"We've tried," Dracula answers solemnly, "even she couldn't find anything."

"Maybe-"

Johnny's cut off when the rickety old vehicle is suddenly slammed sideways. Whatever hit it was enough to send it teetering to one side, and the impact when it topples over is enough to stun all of them.

"What's...?" Johnny tries, attempting to keep from crushing Mavis, who'd been in the middle, and Dracula, who'd been on the side that hit the ground. "Drac?"

There are hands on him, pulling him out of the busted window, but he knows it isn't any of the monsters initiating a rescue effort. Some Dracula had sent ahead, to secure the hotel and others had stayed behind, to keep watch until the sun was up and they knew for sure Van Helsing wouldn't appear in the square. And now they're alone out here.

"You again," Van Helsing says, as Tweedledum and Tweedledee wrangle him into compliance. He has the advantage of vampire strength this time around, but as dazed as he is by whatever flipped the truck (another truck, apparently) has left his new skills a bit lacking in effectiveness. "You know you cannot escape me."

"I managed okay last time."

Van Helsing pulls a stake from his bag and Johnny can tell that it's the one. The one he used before. "Not this time."

"You will not touch him," Dracula's voice booms from the wrecked vehicle as he climbs up and out the passenger window. Mavis climbs out, too, staying at her father's back to keep out of the way. "You're finished taking the people I love away from me."

"People?" Van Helsing spits, "Ha!"

"Obviously I had enough people on my side to keep you away from the square," Dracula counters, realizing now his mistake on that front. "I knew you were a coward - you never came after me, directly, not even when I had no idea who you were. So why would you start when I was surrounded by an army?"

Johnny's forced to watch and wait as the argument continues, as Van Helsing gets angrier and angrier. "You've brainwashed them all, haven't you? There's no way those people would be loyal to your kind of their own free will, not if they knew what you were capable of. Bet they weren't too happy to hear that you've added to your numbers."

Dracula keeps his eyes on the stake, poised over nearly the same spot it had been before (this time there won't be any surviving it), and counters, "No, they weren't. They're all rather fond of Jonathan. You should have heard them when they found out some nutcase going after monsters nearly killed him. They were calling for your head like you wanted them to call for mine. They were relieved to hear he'd survived."

Van Helsing's shaking with fury now, but the stake doesn't move.

Johnny notes that Mavis has gone bat and quietly flown, likely on her father's orders. He's relieved she's safe for now and wishes the same could be said for all three of them.

"You're a monster," Van Helsing argues, seeming to default back to this point whenever anyone questions his reasons. "You're a threat that needs to be dealt with and it is my responsibility to do that."

"Who have I threatened? Other than you, of course. I've never killed anyone. I've only ever bitten Johnny. And I've turned two people, my wife - you know, the woman your family had killed? - and Jonathan - because you nearly killed him. Both of them consented long before I ever did it. All I've wanted is to be left alone with my family. How does that make me a monster?"

"You're lying," Van Helsing accuses. "The girl, you didn't count her."

"My daughter? I did nothing to her, she was not made a vampire, and nor was I. Your family killed her mother just months after she was born and I've managed to keep her hidden from you ever since."

"Where is she!?" He demands, having only just now realized that she's no longer hiding behind her father.

"Right here!" Mavis calls, switching from bat to human just over Van Helsing's head. She drops down onto him and grabs for the stake, knocking it aside. Dracula surges forward, too, barreling into the duo of thugs, which startles them into dropping Johnny so they can go after him.

"Johnny, get out of here - the sun!"

The sun, it's almost up now. Johnny has zero tolerance for sun right now, as a newly made vampire and even the smallest amount of light could kill him. He doesn't want to, but he runs.

He runs and runs and what is he doing?

Dracula and Mavis are still back there, fighting a battle that started because of him. He turns around, runs back, grateful that he has kind of figured out the super-speed thing. The fight is still going. Dracula's managed to take out one of the hulking figures, and he's in the midst of trying to hypno-eyes the other one into knocking himself out. Mavis is holding her own, has her arms curled around Van Helsing's neck, keeping him on the defensive. The second of the two thugs gets away from Dracula's attempt and grabs Mavis, throwing her aside to help a struggling Van Helsing. She cries out when she hits a nearby tree and crumples to the ground.

"Mavis!" Dracula calls out, but he can't go to her. Van Helsing and the oversized brute are both going after him now.

"It's over," the vampire hunter says, a sick grin on his face as he grabs up the stake.

He sees Dracula try to freeze Van Helsing like he'd frozen Johnny to keep him from plunging to his death in the hotel pool, like he'd frozen Quasimodo when he'd gone after Johnny, but for some reason, it doesn't work. Maybe vampire hunters are immune to his powers? Dracula tries to hypnotize them again, too, but he can't get the direct eye contact he needs to pull it off. He could fly off, or super-speed away from the site of the attack, but Johnny knows he won't, he'd never leave without his daughter.

So, with the threat of a stake through the heart closing in on Dracula, Johnny quietly moves around to the other side of the clearing. He takes a deep breath, revs up as much power as he can when he can already feel the burn of the nearly risen sun and then he runs.

In the seconds before he hits, Johnny sees Dracula's eyes blow wide at the sight of him, as he realizes that he's here and risking himself when he'd thought his zing was safely on his way away from all of this danger. He sees Dracula flash into rage mode and surge forward.

Johnny catches Van Helsing off guard, and tackles him with enough force to send him stumbling forward. Dracula crashes into the vampire hunter, too, and that's enough to spin him to the ground, where he lands with a choked off shout and a sickening thud, motionless.

He only has a second to realize what happened - the stake, he thinks, Van Helsing must have landed on it - before Dracula's grabbing for him, already pulling him into what's left of the shadows of the trees. "Take this," he says, wrapping Jonathan up in his heavy cape to protect him from the sunlight. "Stay," is all he says, as he doubles back to carry Mavis over, too. He sets her down next to him, and she's starting to come around, but she's dizzy and confused. No way can she fly out of here.

With two grounded vampires and one of Van Helsing's henchmen still advancing toward them, Dracula has no choice but to keep fighting.

The sun is high enough now that it's making Dracula smoke. He's darting all over the place, hoping to lead their last enemy away from where he and Mavis are tucked away in the woods. It's working pretty well, they're circling each other by the wrecked cars.

And that's when the cavalry shows up. Frank and Wayne, who'd stayed behind at the square to keep watch, are finally making their way back to the hotel. They're clearly surprised when they happen upon the accident site, but they're both out of their car and moving in on the remaining thug within seconds.

"We've got this, Drac," Wayne calls, giving him all the assurance he needs to get out of the sun.

---

It takes a while to sort everything out in the aftermath of the fight.

Dracula, Johnny and Mavis are all a little singed, all a little worked over, but they're safely smuggled back into the sunless walls of the castle. A round of blood substitute takes the edge off of their battle wounds and leaves them anxious and jumpy while they await word from the others.

But, slowly, the reports come in.

The two thugs have been dealt with, left to the townsfolk to punish however they see fit (the monsters are all a little unclear on the current laws these days, so they'll leave it to them to sort out). They've sent people to make sure no other wicked henchmen are lurking in the ruins of Castle Lubov. And the body of Van Helsing has been properly disposed of.

They're all visibly relieved by the news that the man - the monster - who caused them so much pain will not be bothering them any longer. It's almost poetic, really, that he met the same fate he had planned for Johnny, for all of them, really. And it seems like more than a coincidence that Johnny managed to survive a purposeful attempt on his life when Van Helsing just happened to land in such a way that the stake had pierced clean through his own heart.

"It's really over," Johnny says, and he's so beyond relieved that they can finally start to get back to something resembling normality.

For now, though, it's no surprise that the exhaustion that comes with a month of hyper-vigilant paranoia hits all of them before too long. Mavis is the first to abscond off to bed, after nearly falling asleep standing up.

The other monsters have been in and out all day, some dealing with the chaos of Van Helsing's attack and others reigning in the townsfolk when they found out what had happened. But, now, finally, everyone seems to be settling down. So there's no reason that Dracula and Johnny cannot do the same.

"Come on," Dracula says, catching Johnny's hand and pulling him to his feet. "We both need some rest."

"Mm," Johnny grumbles in agreement. He'd already been half-asleep in the chair Dracula had pulled him out of, but the new bed in their room would be more comfortable. He follows blindly after the other vampire and, upon arrival, he had planned to aim himself straight at the bed and flop across it without pause.

But Dracula doesn't let him go. "Not so fast," he says, steering the young vampire to the bathroom, where a sizeable shower waits. Which, even as tired as he is, is not exactly something he can complain about when Dracula accompanies him. The water takes care of the rest of the sunburn, Dracula takes care of some sore muscles (a favor that he eagerly returns), and the chance for some much needed alone time (having guards on the doors was on precaution they'd taken while Van Helsing was loose) takes care of the last traces of anxiety over today's draining events. A quick pause to dig out the most comfortable clothes he owns from the depths of his backpack is the only thing that stops him on the way to collapsing in a boneless heap on the bed.

Dracula's there, too, just a moment later, arms curling around Johnny's chest as their legs tangle together under the blankets.

"I think I'm gonna sleep for a week," Johnny declares, pressing closer to his bedmate, reveling in the warmth and the comforting sound of Dracula's heartbeat beside him.

"You have to eat," Dracula argues.

Johnny amends his previous statement accordingly, "I think I'm gonna stay in bed for a week, then."

Dracula laughs and leans in close, pressing kisses along Johnny's neck and jaw, moving up until he can claim the young vampire's mouth in a kiss. "Whatever you want, my love."