Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Castlevania.1864
It was as if a shard of light had pierced eternal darkness. Dreams of bloodlust dissolved as quickly as they had formed, and Alucard awoke from his deep slumber. Even as his senses returned to him, he lay as still as the dead. Thoughts raced through his mind, images flashed before his still, closed eyes, and he could hear a hundred voices from the past thundering in his ears. But it had not been a voice but a mere noise that had disturbed his sleep.
Alucard was certain that the noise had been a beating human heart, racing with adrenaline, pounding inside the chest of its owner. The question was, why would the sound of one fearful human awaken him? There was something more, there had to be.
It came to him, a scent that he would forever be able to recognize. It was the smell of fresh spilt blood and of something else, something dead. He knew it in an instant; there was a vampire hunting close by, one who’d killed this night but hadn’t had his fill. It was the scent of a hunting vampire.
Alucard’s thoughts broke off as he heard the grounding sound of stone on stone. His tomb’s entrance had been breached. He heard the vault close back into place. The beating heart was closer now.
No longer able to lie still, he lifted the top of the coffin silently, leaving only enough space for him to slide out into the small chamber. His eyes, sensitive from his years of rest, squinted at the faint glow of a candle. His grave’s intruder cupped the light in her hands. It was a girl, no, young woman, her face cast in shadows.
The woman slid to the floor, her knees tucked against her chest, her pale shift tight against her body. Dark hair curled against her ears, hanging down past her guarded breast. Wide, doe eyes remained entranced with the vault’s entrance. Her porcelain skin was streaked with tears and dirt. In the crook of her arm, she clasped a doll with a broken face against her body. Her head lolled like the poppet’s, back and over, against the stone wall.
She was shaking, from either fear or cold. Either was plausible, Alucard realized. What he didn’t understand was the sound coming from between her lips. It was too low for a human to hear, but, surely, such a frightened creature wouldn’t hum a song when she was being chased by wolves. The girl seemed to register the song between her lips and a volt of awareness ran through her. She rocked back and forth, biting her lip to quiet herself.
Alucard took a step back, his boot making a dull tap. The woman dropped her candle, her eyes darting into the deepness of the vault. Alucard could only imagine her fright when her dark eyes met his. He didn’t have the sense in that instant to put out the thrown candle that rolled across the floor, casting light on his face, because it was then that the young woman spoke.
“You. . . you’re pale,” she said, her voice more like a child’s than a woman’s. Her eyes seemed to lose their focus, and she sucked in a shallow breath. “A demon’s son. . .like him. Dreaming, dreaming of blood,” she muttered. She pushed her doll up against her breasts. “Like him.”
Alucard’s cool composure wavered. “Quiet,” he commanded, as gently as he could.
The woman grew still, her mouth shut, her attention fully on the dhampir in front of her.
“Lady, who is hunting you?” Alucard asked.
The song returned to her lips and her eyes darted across the vault, watching for something that didn’t exist. “The bad man,” she whispered. “Bad, bad man, hurting Daddy, breaking Mummy, spilling little Gwenny’s insides, making pretty pictures with Sarah’s life.” Her fingers squeezed the doll tightly. “He likes it, the red.”
Alucard reached out, touching the girl’s arm. The sharp edge of the doll’s sunken cheek was pressed against her fingers. She loosened her grip.
“What is this man’s name?”
Tears fell from the girl’s innocent eyes. “The bad man drinks blood, too.” They drifted up, finding his again. “But you’re different. You fight the. . .blood. Heavenly creature, his name is Angelus,” she hissed.
Alucard could hear the vampire tromping through the cemetery, calling a name that bounced from stone to stone.
“Drusilla?” the half-vampire asked.
The woman nodded. She sat the doll down on the floor beside her, brushing a finger through its dark hair. “I’m going to die tonight.”
“You will not,” Alucard assured. He stepped away from her, reaching down into his coffin. He pulled up a sword.
Drusilla pushed herself up to her feet and reached out, grabbing hold of his wrist.
“Don’t,” she begged. “You can’t stop him. If you do, you’ll ruin everything. I’m supposed to be with him, with the bad man, that’s what the stars say.” Her lip shook but she stilled it with a tight jaw. “I’m wicked.”
“We’re all wicked.” Alucard heard the words leave his lips, but his brow furrowed in confusion. That wasn’t what he wanted to tell the woman.
Drusilla looked up at him, blinking. Her wide eyes had softened slightly. Alucard could smell the blood on the bottom of her feet when she took a step closer. Her fingers were on his wrist, and she guided him back to his coffin. Its wide depths looked lonesome.
“I can save you.”
She shook her head. Her dark eyes held him.
“You’re sleeping,” she said, her voice musical. “You’re a sleeping prince, all tucked away.”
Alucard stared at her, unable to break her gaze. He slowly crawled back into his enclosure, a wave of weariness washing over him. The half-vampire felt the pull of something at the corner of his mind. The shadows behind the woman shifted. A skeletal figure, robed in web and darkness, moved its arms to embrace the woman from behind. She didn’t seem to feel his touch.
“A prince,” she cooed, pushing his shoulder back into the pillowed surface beneath him, “dreaming of pretty girls dancing with monsters. And of blood.”
“Will you be here when I wake?” Alucard asked.
“The stars won’t let me stay,” she said, her voice low, frightened again. Her eyes were wet and heavy with thought. She sat her doll down in the crook of his arm. “But I’ll come back to you again. I’ll let you slay the monster, when it’s ready.”
Alucard felt the burden of those words, even as his eyes began to close. His final gaze was of somber Death, nearly powerless at the woman’s back. He was not the monster she spoke of. That creature would be neither reaper nor angel. It would be wearing her face, he knew. The vampire drifted from dreams to sleep and slumbering thoughts of hunger.End Notes: I’m thinking of doing a follow-up where Alucard awakens and meets the crazy Dru that we all know and love/hate. What do you think?