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A Different Way to Communicate

Summary:

Carol volunteers to be used as a vessel for Dracula, down in hell, to communicate with Robert during a group therapy session. It goes as well as you'd expect.

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He thought they’d all be utterly disgusted with him if he admitted it. Think him a pathetic little creep, kick him to the curb and spit on him. He only got sympathy though when he finally choked it out, voice a trembling mess.

“I still love him. I miss him so much.”

And he was coming back. Rebecca had told him that there’d been unexplained explosions around the sewers of New Orleans. Thought at first to be bomb attacks, when investigated, the only remnants were shattered concrete shards. Witnesses at the scenes of the explosions told of seeing strange black smoke taking to the air, fluttering away, seeming almost sentient. He was reforming himself. Robert's first instinct was to change his name and run to another country. Stupid idea. Dracula would find him eventually. Why prolong the inevitable?

The therapy group had suggested it. Calling Dracula up from hell. Maybe talking to him would be of help. In a safe environment though. Call him into a human vessel so he couldn’t use any of his powers. Put the human vessel in a protection circle just for the extra layer of safety. He didn’t have to do it alone. Have the therapy group all around him as support.

Carol volunteered to be the human vessel. Sat in a chair in the middle of the protection circle, wearing one of Dracula’s coats, the very one he’d worn during the massacre of the group. It was oversized on her. Then she drank a shot glass of his blood, cringing and spluttering.

Everyone waited with bated breath for something to happen.

“He needs to be invited in,” Robert explained, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat opposite her. Carol nodded.

“At least he respects consent,” she said and the rest of the group murmured agreement.

“Dracula could you pleas…”

“He won’t come if you don’t use his full title,” Robert interrupted her. Shuffled again on the spot.

“Sorry,” he said. He had a bad habit of interrupting Carol.

“It’s alright,” she said and then grinned, putting on airs and saying in an exaggerated pompous tone; “Prince of Wallachia, the Dark One, Lord of Death, Count Dracula, I give you permission to use my body as a vessel in which to communicate with the mortal plane from your place down in hell, but only for the allotted time of this group therapy meeting, not a second longer.”

He appreciated her trying to lighten the mood, put him at ease. Still he could only manage the weakest of smiles. Carol twisted her neck around and then rubbed the back of it as if there was something crawling there. There was a moment of nervous silence.

“Damn it’s cold,” she said. She pulled the jacket around closer to herself. Then her mouth twitched downwards into a leer and a strange thing happened to her brow, seeming to arch up. A shudder ran through the room at the sight of it. Normally she held herself in such a way to make herself unnoticeable, very quiet self-contained movements as to not draw attention. Now she was straightening up, shoulders back, chest puffed out. She looked down at her hands in a very uncharacteristically dramatic way like an actor on stage. Rose to her feet in a big sweeping motion, knocking the chair down with a clatter. Swayed cobra-like on the spot. The therapy group shuffled uneasily in their seats and she grinned with all her teeth, seeming to delight in their discomfort.

It was damn strange, seeing Dracula’s mannerisms in a completely different body.

Even odder when DraCarol finally spotted Renfield and her eyes went all dark with lust like she wanted to fuck him against the nearest flat surface. She was striding towards him at once, all hungry animal and then thumped against the invisible force keeping her in the protection circle. Hissed with irritation.

“Really, Renfield, another one of these things?” she snarled. Her voice although the same as always had a sudden more authoritative air to it compared to her usual soft uncertainty, and with a heavier accent, rolling her R’s.

“Well last time you were here, you did kill us all…” Mark gently pointed out. DraCarol glared daggers at him.

“We’ve seen hints that you’re reforming your body and preparing to return to Earth,” said Mark. “So we thought, perhaps…instead of a nasty confrontation later down the track you and Robert can just try to work through your issues now, hey?”

“With a captivated audience too,” DraCarol said glowering around at them all.

“I’m here to help guide the conversation or be used as a non biased third party to offer advice…”

“You’re not unbiased,” DraCarol told him with contempt. “You’re already on sweet kitten’s side. You’ll just agree with everything he says, steamroll me, act like everything I say is wrong…”

“Well you did kill him…” Robert tried to point out.

“What a load of shit that you brought me here in front of all your sycophants to cheer you on,” DraCarol cut through him. “I’m on the goddamn Maury show with the booing audience. You’re just too much of a coward to face me on your own, aren’t you?”

“Wow I didn’t know Count Dracula watched Maury!” piped up Trevante with a big smile. “That’s really relatable!”

DraCarol shot him a gorgon-esque stare and Trevante’s smile wavered at once.

“You ever considered that people tend to cheer me on cause you’re wrong most of the time?” said Robert.

DraCarol stalked back and forth like a pacing animal in a cage, not taking her eyes off him for a second. With every few words, she jabbed her finger in the air in emphasis.

“If you want to talk, then I don’t want any of these lovey-dovey freaks interrupting me, telling me how rotten I am to poor widdle Robbie, how I oughta treat him good cause he’s a precious boy who’s never done a thing wrong in his life, you understand? Especially your beloved Mark. The second any of you do that, I’m leaving.”

Robert sighed for the second time. Mark seemed a bit flustered at being singled out by name, blushing pink.

“Okay…agreed,” Robert said.

“Shake on it?” said DraCarol, extending her hand in that same, theatrical manner, like a silent film actor. Then she waggled her eyebrows.

“Or would you prefer a kiss?”

“Carol didn’t agree to kissing,” he said with an eye roll. DraCarol smoothed a hand over her buzzed head.

“I’ve never had hair like this…” he said more to himself then to anyone else, getting slightly distracted. “It feels very nice. Silky soft. Ask Carol what their hair routine is, I must know it.”

Back to the point. Robert put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the spot a little, forcing himself to look into DraCarol’s burning gaze, not turn away shyly from it. Don’t be cowed. Be brave. Stand up to him.

“If…just say…hypothetically…no promises or anything…we were to get back…together…”

DraCarol smirked.

“You have to treat me better. I’m not your punching bag. I’ve done terrible things but that doesn’t mean you get to treat me like scum.”

“I can treat you however I want,” DraCarol snapped at once, flexing her hands dangerously. Then looked down at the sensibly trimmed nails and tutted, clearly annoyed at the lack of talons.

Renfield sighed, throwing his hands through his hair.

“You chose to come up here and talk to me, are you just going to be an arsehole the entire time?”

DraCarol hissed through his teeth.

“You’ve done much, much worse things then me and I don’t treat you like scum,” Renfield pointed out. “If...if you come back, it’s just going to be endless cycle, me and Rebecca kicking you back to hell for the rest of our lives, you realise? We won’t let you take over the world like you want. We won’t let you hurt innocents anymore. So why bother, why not just give it up, you’re never going to succeed at it.”

“And be a nice little tamed dog for you? Adam Sandler's Dracula from Hotel Transylvania?”

“That’s one of my favourite movies!” piped up Trevante again. DraCarol whipped her head around, showing all her teeth. Then put her hands in her mouth and tsked again, even more annoyed that they were a regular shape instead of fangs. Renfield tried to resist the urge to shrink against the wall. Seeing Carol normally so subdued acting just like his former Master was incredibly intimidating. DraCarol turned on Renfield and put his hands up to him, full of exasperation.

“Dragostea mea… You know what I was before I was the most notorious vampire going? I was a medieval warlord infamous for impaling people on a stake through the genitals and out the mouth. You think I’m going to become a ‘good’ person? Ever? I’m always going to want to dominate humanity, you can send me your sad kitten eyes all you damn like, it’s not changing.”

“Well we’re going to be stuck doing the same bullshit forever then,” Renfield said back, just as exasperated. “Kicking you down to hell, you come back, we kick you down again and on and on.”

“So be it,” DraCarol spat. “That’s the thing, you’re not going to be on you’re high and mighty horse forever. I know how lonely, how unfulfilled, how unsatisfied you’ve been, you’ll turn back to the fun side with me sooner or later. You miss being Daddy’s baby boy.”

Renfield immediately coughed, nearly choking on his own spit, feeling himself flush scarlet. Really had to say something like that in public?

“Oh does it embarrass you talking about what a whore you are for me in front of your little friends? You wanted to talk it out with all of them watching? Well, I’m talking.”

She’d stalked up right to the edge of the protection circle, putting her palms up against the force keeping her inside. Still not taking her eyes off him for a moment. Looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive. Renfield had never doubted for a second that Dracula was deeply in lust with him. But…but…

“Did…did you ever really love me at all? You only kept me around cause…the same reason you kept your favourite candelabra around, it’s a nice decoration. Is there anything you actually love about me?"

“That you’re pretty,” DraCarol leered at him. “The prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“See, it’s just superficial, isn’t it? You only like me when I benefit you. You don’t love anything about me except that I’m useful and you like how I look. Nothing about me personally at all. I’m just…a Bang maid!”

“Bang maid?” he said, baffled.

“Like from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia?” asked Bob. DraCarol hissed, a spider shooting venom from it’s fangs.

“Yes!” said Renfield snapping his fingers at Bob who beamed, glad to have helped. “Someone who does all your chores that you can bang later. What’s my favourite colour! I know yours is black and red, I know you’re favourite song is the Swan Lake main theme and your favourite recent film was Titanic cause you thought it was really funny how they all died at the end and couldn’t stop laughing the whole time, out of all the Dracula films, you hated the Francis Coppola interpretation of you the most cause you were like ‘they’re acting like I’m madly in love with some tart I can barely remember, I was more interested in her pretty husband Johnny but they won’t show that in the movies cause it’s too gay for them, all these damn movies try to act like I only like girls and it’s bullshit…”

“Rainbow,” he said, interrupting his rant. Renfield blinked.

“Rainbow’s your favourite colour.”

“Lucky fluke…” he murmured, wrapping his arms around his chest, adorned in his beloved pastel rainbow sweater.

“You’re least favourite interpretation of you in the media is all of them, you don’t like any because they make you feel so self-conscious and ashamed of yourself. Your favourite song is the Na Na song from the Chemical Love band because it makes you want to jump around and dance. Your favourite movie is Ponyo because the little fish girl reminds you of your daughter.”

Renfield stared at her, stared into her eyes where He was lurking within. Stared as her upper lip with the smear of balm because Carol got cold sores in the winter, curled back, a hungry dog like sneer. A strange mixture of sparkling malevolence and an exasperated affection in his expression.

“You can come into the circle freely,” he breathed out, voice low, low and simmering with poison heat. “Will you leave me down in hell with nothing to remember you by? You don’t want to kiss the unwilling vessel, I understand…but come closer. Come here. Let me touch you.”

His stomach was doing flips, feeling the flush deepen in his face, the tightness in his chest. He broke eye contact, an old habit, couldn’t handle the intensity of him.

“The time’s nearly up,” Mark said in a careful voice. “Is there anything you’d like to say to each other before we finish?”

He could feel the burn of his gaze on him. Penetrating his skin.

“Come here,” he growled, an almost guttural sound deep in her chest. “Come to me.”

Renfield took a shaky step closer, closer, saw the smile stretch across her face as he obeyed, heard the anxious murmur that started around the therapy group, people half sitting up in their seats, as if to move all at once to protect him. Closer, closer. Into the lion’s den. She seemed to emanate a dark icy cold aura, His spirit in the middle of her chest pulsing out in waves. He could smell on her breath, the oh so familiar scent he’d known for nearly a century, old blood, pouring it’s rancid, alluring heat from her mouth. Her hand went up and her nails trailed down his cheek, over his throat, touching his skin. Then gripping at his chin, crushingly tight. He tried and failed to fight back the whimper. The point of her tongue was between her teeth like she wanted to lick and taste his pulse. Her breath thick and harsh. Renfield, shaking, shaking.

“Call me anytime,” he breathed at him and then her eyes were rolling back and her head was rocking on her neck and her hand was falling down. She clutched at her skull, groaned, staggering about.

“Jesus, Jesus,” Carol heaved out. “What a headfuck! Um…I’ll write down my hair routine if you like, um…tell him…thanks for the compliment…I guess…”

Caitlyn ran over to pick up the chair for Carol to sit down in and took off Dracula’s jacket. Carol's whole body was drenched in sweat, but she was shivering like she was icy cold. 

“Uh…if you want to talk to Dracula again could I be the vessel next?” Caitlyn said and smiled a tad awkwardly. “I dunno it just looked really cool.”

“I do have this boosted feeling of rock-star confidence out of nowhere,” Carol admitted. “Like…I kinda want to buy a strap-on and start pegging people…sorry…that might be TMI.”

Robert was lost for words as Mark came over to his side.

“How are you feeling after all that?” he asked him gently. Robert just hugged himself, an automatic self-soothing method, not able to speak. His heart was beating a drum in his chest.

He didn’t feel like they’d really worked anything out at all.

But still…

Wasn’t it lovely to see him again?