Chapter Text
The trip had been a long, but fruitful experience. He’d learned much from the crew and passengers of his ship. Of course, he’d run out of sustenance sooner than expected. Once Johnny’s box was discovered in the cargo hold things quickly got out of hand. But he’d managed to seal him once again and seen him safely delivered to Carfax.
He’d hardly heard a peep out of his bride since arriving on English shores, he hoped that perhaps he was settling down. Perhaps the return to his homeland had granted him some measure of peace.
Dracula had finally managed to settle down for the small hours in the lounge, a glass of blood in hand. He’d spent much of the evening getting settled and making sure that everything had been properly delivered. Now there was a scant few hours before sunrise. A moment to reflect and plan.
His quiet reflection however was shattered by the sound of splintering wood and a shriek that pierced the night air. Dracula surged to his feet, blood and serenity forgotten.
Johnny was awake.
He sped through the house towards the crypts, desperate to catch his bride before he could cause too much trouble. If a ravenous, bloodsucking ghoul was unleashed on an unsuspecting London, then he could be assured that all his plans, all his secrecy, would be rendered pointless.
Jonathan would be hunted down, or burned in the dawning light. After all the time that Dracula had spent preserving his bride, he refused to let such a thing happen. As he ran past the front door, he noticed that it’d been torn from its hinges and he bolted through it, ready to chase Jonathan down.
But Jonathan wasn’t running. He was squatting in the dirt, a short ways from the front door. Moonlight glinted off his sickly, pale skin. He’d managed to regain a little of his health during the trip when a crewman had foolishly opened his box after hearing his cries for help, but he still looked horribly decrepit. His clothes hung off him in rotten tatters and his bones stuck from his skin at sharp angles as he moved in a flurry of activity.
Dracula approached him carefully, ready to subdue him by force, but Jonathan didn’t pay him any mind. He simply continued digging in the dirt. He ran bony hands through the lawn, tearing up clods of earth and grass as he went.
“Jonathan what are you…” Dracula laughed as the pieces fell into place in his mind, then he settled down to watch his bride go to work.
–#--
Jonathan was swaddled in darkness, cradled on all sides by soothing, cool weight. It’d been so long since he’d felt at peace. Long before Transylvania and the castle and the Count. It was how he’d always imagined waking up beside Mina would feel: secure, comforted, safe.
He opened his eyes. For one delirious moment he hoped to see his fiance, but was met by a faceful of dirt. He sputtered and tried to blink the wet soil from his eyes, but more kept falling in. With a start he realised he was completely buried, panic started to rise in his chest until reason won out and he remembered that he no longer needed to breathe.
He grunted with effort as he forced his arms upward. He wasn’t buried too deeply, but the weight of the soil all around him was still significant, and his body felt worn and wrung out. A horrid thirst cut at his throat and stabbed at his belly and he had to wonder how long it’d been since he’d fed.
After a few minutes of struggling, he finally managed to push a hand above the surface and pull himself from the earth.
Spitting out soil Jonathan emerged beneath a familiar sky.
It took him only a few moments to place himself. He had, after all, spent plenty of time preparing for the sale of this very property. “Carfax,” he murmured.
“And he’s as sharp as ever,” a dark voice purred behind him.
Jonathan whipped around to see the Count beaming at him with a grin that stood between unbridled glee and malevolence. “I told you I’d find the cure, Johnny.”
“What do you mean? A cure?” his head was still a little foggy, but the memories came crawling back. The time loss, his attempt on his life, the box, that all consuming, crushing darkness. The last moment he could recall was the Count stroking his head whilst refusing him release from his torment.
Dracula approached slowly and crouched down to be at eye level with Jonathan. He picked up a pinch of torn up soil and rubbed it between his fingers. “The earth of your homeland. I could not survive without my own. I assumed that the land of your rebirth would suffice, but it seems not.” He let the last of the soil drop, then dusted off his hands.
England. They’d returned to England. Dracula was free to expand as he wished.
“You seem concerned, Jonathan. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Dracula pulled Jonathan close and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “We have much to do, but first you must eat, you must recover. I’ve been without you for far too long and we have a lot of… catching up to do,” Dracula said with a wicked smile.
Jonathan had been frozen, shaking there in the cold night air, but at the proclamation he managed to gain some measure of resolve. “Whatever might happen to me, Count, I will have no part in your plans for-”
“Ah, that’s right. We’re so close to your old home,” Dracula interrupted. “Perhaps we should pay a visit to some of your old friends. Or maybe even Miss Murray?” there was a cruel edge to the Count’s smile.
Jonathan grit his teeth, forced his nerves down, and put his hand in Dracula’s. “No.”
“No?”
“As you said, we have a lot to catch up on.”