Author's Note

I do not own Young Dracula.

At least when Magda was there they just fought like cats and dogs. Their dad - the Count Dracula - had something to focus his anger on.

Now though-

Now-

Now he would take any excuse to be insulted.

He would lose his temper at the drop of a stake.

And the only things in his line of fire were Renfield, Ingrid, and Vlad.

Usually in that order.

Renfield was oddly happy to take his usually equally odd punishments.

But Ingrid and Vlad-

Ingrid had never been the defensive big sister type. It wasn't in her nature. But the first time she found Vlad crying because the Count had lost his temper and backhanded him across the Great Hall ignited something in her.

Something primal.

Something violent.

(Well, even more violent than Ingrid already was.)

Something protective.

Vlad had never been the ambitious little vampire kid. It wasn't in his nature. But the first time his dad lost his temper at him and backhanded him across the Great Hall ignited something in him.

Something primal.

Something violent.

Something vampiric.

After that day, if they weren't in their bedrooms, Ingrid never left Vlad's side. She was the girl child, the worthless one, and if the Count was only going to hit one of them, it would be her.

It would always be her.

And afterwards, Vlad at the grand old age of eleven going on twelve, would have to clean her up and patch her scrapes and bruises, and they both pretended nothing ever happened and that they still hated each other as much as they ever did.

Of course it was still Vlad sometimes and then it would be Ingrid's turn to play nurse, cleaning up Vlad's bruises, wiping his tears and pretending nothing had happened when they woke curled together in the morning.

"When I turn sixteen," she whispered, "when I have my fangs, we'll find out who the truly evil one in this family is."

Sometimes Vlad's sister scared him, even when they weren't fighting.

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Vlad turned twelve. His dad got him a knife and a mouse.

"For biting practise," he said, flashing his fangs.

They were still better than Ingrid's presents, which were, of course, nothing. Vlad and Ingrid let the mouse go in the woods a few days later. Ingrid kept the knife.

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It turned out that there was something the evil, heartless, bloodsucking monster Count Dracula was afraid out.

That something was a mob of angry peasants wearing straw hats and carrying guns, pitchforks, and flaming torches.

They were pretty terrifying.

Vlad wondered where one even got straw hats, pitchforks and flaming torches from these days.

(Down in the village, one villager had raked in a fortune selling his old farming supplies and the straw hats his children made for the scarecrows, but that's another story.)

The Dracula clan, plus Renfield, fled Transylvania with little more than the clothes on their backs.

The Count was angrier and more hateful than ever, and now they were trapped in a contained vehicle with him. Vlad linked his fingers with Ingrid's and gripped tight.

They stopped in one of the Count's old manor hideouts in Austria. It was dusty, unclean, smelled like rotting flesh in places and had no running water, but at least it was big enough that the Dracula children could pick a room, close and barricade the door and window, and hide in the closet for a bit.

"I'm fourteen years old," Ingrid muttered. "I can believe I'm sat here hiding from dad with you in a closet bat breath."

"If you don't like it, you could leave."

Ingrid sighed. "How about no?"

They had to go out eventually though (it was getting awkward when they both admitted to needing the toilet) and found their dad in the main hall waving a letter around and ranting something about the peasants being out to get him.

Apparently the manor had been declared by the locals to be 'an unseemly and dangerous eyesore.'

The Count demanded a new 'lair of darkness' be found for him at once.

Vlad did his best.

There were a surprising amount of castles for sale on the Internet. There was a nice one in Germany, but he and Ingrid didn't speak German, so that was out. For the same reason, so was the cool looking one with guard towers in Russia. There was a possible one in France, and another large one in Scotland with six towers and a dungeons. At last he found one somewhere that him a year ago would have loved and him even now jumped at.

Britain.

Wales.

Stokely.

The most normal looking normal place he had ever seen.

It had traffic lights and zebra crossings and houses with little fences and everything!

They bought that one.

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Another long car journey with Count Dracula and all their worldly belongings was hell on earth. Vlad and Ingrid fell asleep eventually, her arm around his waist and his head on her shoulder.

Author's Note

Okay, so here's an idea that wouldn't leave me alone and is pretty much what it says on the tin. The Count is a centuries old evil vampire, and we see how he treats Ingrid, right? It's not really very funny. Well, what is there to say he actually loves either of his kids?

Some of the inspiration for this fic did come from DZ2's Darkness Rises challenge.