A/N: These will pertain both to the Austrian musical and the 1967 film. None of these will follow the Broadway version unless stated otherwise, because, frankly it wasn't nearly as good as the other two. The oneshots will be relatively chronological but mostly unconnected. The following story takes picks up right where the film/musical left off.
Forever and a Day
"Professor, where are we going?" Alfred asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Alfred slumped in his seat and pouted. He didn't have to look pitiful for long, for within half an hour, Professor Abronsius drove the sled into a small village not unlike the one they had just fled. The conveyance came to a stop in front of one of the quaint little buildings, in front of which hung a sign indicating that the place was an inn. Alfred breathed out a fog of relief when Professor Abronsius hopped onto the ground; he had truly hoped the Professor hadn't frozen over again. The Professor helped Sarah out the sled and left Alfred to take care of himself. There were no bags to deal with now, so Alfred just shuffled along behind them, realizing he would be wearing these ridiculous evening clothes for a while.
"Come," the Professor said, "We shall stay here tonight. We will regroup and ready the counterattack. With the power of logic, we will prevail!"
With this pronouncement he pointed an academic finger toward the sky and Alfred sighed. He had hoped that he wouldn't be forced back to the castle again. Perhaps, while the Professor was sleeping the next day, he and Sarah could make a run for it.
The inn was deserted, except for the groggy owner, whose dark eyes glared at them from white sleep-tousled hair. As the Professor secured them lodgings, Alfred could not help but feel a little saddened for the sleepy villagers, whose quiet world would soon be turned on its end, for surely the Count and his flock would follow them here. Of course, he also wanted to feast upon their blood. Twice he attempted to wander off into one of the bedrooms, only to be restrained by Sarah, who gripped his arm fervently and said, "Not yet, Liebling!"
He would then slump his shoulders and pout some more. As Alfred wandered aimlessly about the room, he felt his limbs grow limp and his body sag heavily. He felt frightfully weak and longed for a bed. Sleepiness made him near-delirious, almost wishing to be back in his room at the castle, with its feathery, dust-encrusted pillows. Why was the Professor taking so long? Alfred stifled a yawn with his wrist as the older man returned.
"Come my boy, he wants to show us our-"
As Alfred managed to chase the yawn away, he realized the Professor's watery blue eyes were searching him intently, locked onto Alfred's increasingly confused face. Then, the boy blanched as realization spread over him like cold water. The Professor had seen his fangs.
"Junge...did you...?" The Professor was scrutinizing Alfred deeply now, and the boy began to squirm under the sharp gaze. He was suddenly very aware of what it felt like to go through life as a lab rat.
"You are..." said the Professor. His eyes suddenly roved over to Sarah. "Both of you! So, I see he did turn you in the end, my dear. Well then..."
The Professor's eyes were slowly developing that look that Alfred had grown painfully familiar with, the look that said a plan was evolving in the scientist's mind, a plan of action. The Professor suddenly darted to his bag and began rummaging frantically through it. Alfred felt his arms creep across his chest to protect his heart from any sharp objects seeking to force their way past his breastbone.
"Delightful!" declared the Professor. "A live specimen would aid my research immensely. If you would be so good child, I'll just..."
Glass in hand and an excited gleam in his eyes, the Professor made his way toward Sarah, but a flash of fangs accompanied by an irritable hiss made his alter his course toward Alfred.
"Come Junge, into the light," he said.
Alfred did as he was told and stood obediently still as the Professor examined his teeth with a glass. Abronsius made some quiet exclamations and took out a tiny book to jot down his own notes. He then carefully inspected the mark of Sarah's bite on the boy's throat. "Ah, she has drained you fast, eh Junge?"
As he took out a fob watch and took Alfred's pulse, the Professor's eyebrows disappeared into his hair.
"Interesting. Very interesting, my boy," he said without explaining what was so interesting. Alfred submitted to the Professor's examination with his usual obedience while Sarah sat with her arms crossed defiantly. She made a sudden angry huffing noise and stomped into the adjoining room. Alfred watched her leave and then looked at the Professor. The scientist was still feverishly jotting down notes in his book, so Alfred took advantage of the distraction and shuffled after Sarah. He began to hear a strange creaking of furniture as he approached, and by the time he reached her, Sarah had managed to shove the bed into the corner of the room, and had begun working on moving the dresser toward the corner as well.
"Sarah, what are you doing?"
As he was beginning to expect, he got no answer from Sarah. She wouldn't explain exactly what she was doing, but she didn't seem to want his help either. So Alfred sat in a chair with his head in his hands.
After a few minutes, he became bored with his sulking and padded into the tavern. The Professor had vanished, so he had been sitting in the dark, vacant tavern for some minutes when a sudden loud banging on the door sent Alfred jumping a foot in the air. He clutched his chest, more out of habit that anything else. Heart fluttering weakly, Alfred stood and made his way hesitantly toward the door. Before he even reached his hand out to open it, the door burst open.
Standing before him, still in his evening attire, was Herbert von Krolock. Moonlight beamed off his pale face, upon which was written a look of deep concern. Alfred took a step back and began to whimper in terror. Herbert stepped over the threshold with an outstretched hand.
As the Count's son advanced, Alfred recovered his senses to do the best thing he could think of.
Herbert von Krolock glided through the door in one stride. He made to grab Alfred by the shoulders, but the newborn vampire slipped from him and backed further into the tavern.
"Professor! Come quickly!"
Alfred's words slurred together as he tried to shout around his newly acquired fangs. Herbert von Krolock followed him, attempting to quiet the frantic shouting.
"Alfred, please, settle down now. You will wake the whole village."
"He's here, Professor, come quick! Somebody, pl-"
Alfred yelped as he lost control of his words and sank a fang into his own lip. Herbert immediately stepped forward, concerned.
"Mein Liebchen, you must be more careful!" he scolded. Herbert took a handkerchief from his sleeve and began dabbing the trickle of blood from Alfred lip.
"The three of you ran off so quickly that I did not have a chance to bid you farewell. I thought you might have gotten lost, taken a wrong turn in the forest, possibly run into a pack of werewolves. You mustn't worry me so dreadfully, mein Schatz. There. That's much better, isn't it?"
Herbert put an elegant hand beneath Alfred's chin and tipped it up to look into the boy's face. He uttered an exclamation of dismay.
"How pale you are!" he said. "When was the last time you fed, precious?"
"I've...not...That is..." Alfred stammered. It would occur to Alfred later that his new condition did not seem to surprise the Count's son. For the moment, Alfred could only think that he was quite hungry.
"Come. Sit," Herbert said. Alfred stumbled as arms more powerful than his own pushed him backwards and he was forced into a chair. Herbert pushed the lace cuff of his own sleeve back and ran a long, sharp nailed finger over the delicate skin of his wrist. A trickle of blood began to seep over white skin and Alfred felt himself swallow hard. Long fingers ran themselves gently through his hair, as they had done only hours before and brought his head toward the softly bleeding wrist.
"Drink, mein Engel," Herbert said. Alfred looked at the blood trickling slowly out of the throbbing vein and hesitated. He ran his tongue over his parched lips, but the idea of partaking of the nobleman's blood was far from appetizing. Herbert seemed to sense his reservations.
"Please, Liebling. You are a newly born vampire. You must eat."
Herbert tilted Alfred's head upward and looked into his eyes. His tone was pleading and his face indicated true concern. After a last moment's hesitation, Alfred obeyed and brought his lips to Herbert's wrist.
Blood immediately flooded Alfred's mouth. Iron and red wine woke his palette and washed down his dry throat. He could feel life and energy return to his weary limbs, spreading warmly through his body, and his toes curled in their shoes. Had he stolen a look at Herbert, he would have seen that the youthful aristocrat's eyes were closed and his fingers clenched into fists. Herbert's free hand slid into the arch of the boy's neck and gently entwined itself into soft brown hair. Both men's breaths quickened, simultaneously in pain and satisfaction. Alfred unconsciously allowed his hand to tighten around Herbert's wrist as he found himself savoring the taste of blood, relishing its metallic flavor as it filled his mouth, and enjoying the feeling of warm euphoria that flowed from his throat to his chest and down to fingers and toes as blood poured over his tongue. For the first time, Alfred felt he knew what it was to be satisfied.
"What is this?!"
The female shriek caused Alfred's head to jerk upwards in fright. Sarah stood in the doorway to the bedroom, and Alfred immediately rose to his feet. She was silhouetted against the low candlelight and wore a loose white nightgown, the origins of which Alfred could only guess. Alfred swallowed hard at the sight of her, but the fury in her face was enough to make both men take a step back.
"Between the old goat poking and prodding him and … this," she gesticulated wildly at the scene before her, "I have not yet had my turn of him."
"The boy is weak. He needs to feed," Herbert said, putting a hand on Alfred's shoulder.
"I can take care of that!"
Herbert began to argue, but Sarah bared her teeth at him and snarled, "He is mine now, so be gone!"
Herbert folded his arms and scowled. His expression was one of supreme disappointment and dissatisfaction. Alfred could do nothing but look bemused as Sarah dragged him into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Inside, he saw that she had pushed all the furniture into one corner, and with the blankets as curtains, had thus fashioned for them a makeshift coffin, that would suffice until they could make other arrangements. As she crawled beneath and yanked him down with her, he couldn't help but think that Sarah had grown quite a bit tetchier since her transformation. Certainly she had seemed in a rather bad mood since they left the castle. He felt it wise to do as she directed, in hopes that she would not turn her ire on him. But when he woke at sundown nestled in Sarah's arms beneath their makeshift coffin, he began to think that eternity no longer looked so bleak.