It had been days since housekeeping had been in the suite - he'd long discovered that Martha couldn't move or talk when he wasn't alone. And how could he do that, shut her back into her lonely prison? Drac had given up sleeping in his coffin, too. Shutting the lid against Martha had just hurt too much. He wasn't sleeping anyway. He still had so much to talk to Martha about! He'd only caught her up to the night Mavis' baby fangs fell out!
Every day he was losing the energy desire to do more than stay with his Martha. His voice was soft and low, slightly cracking and getting more hoarse every day, but he didn't care. He continued to tell stories of his life since he'd lost his beloved.
He was still allergic to sunlight, though, and he didn't have the energy desire to continue getting up to closing and open the drapes, so despite his exhaustion he had pulled the painting to him and was curled up in a dark corner of the room. He was small, huddled in on himself and the painting. Still and gray, he lay there talking softly and haltingly, assuring Martha that she would soon be free, be with him and their daughter again, his hand resting gently on the oils where Martha's cheek was.
Raven Raven had known exactly where she needed to be after she saw the list of names that had been culled from the radio. She'd swung by the Boards, first, in case Drac was there, but the zombie crew swore they hadn't seen him in days. His suite at the Arms was the next logical choice.
She didn't hear much through the door as she came up, and she was already trying to figure out where else to look when she knocked on the door. "Dracula?" she called. "Sir, it's Raven. Can I come in?"
Dracula Drac heard the knock and held his breath slightly, hoping the person would go away. If they didn't, Martha wouldn't talk to him anymore!
Raven Raven pressed her ear harder against the door and bit her lip. Nothing.
She had no idea where else to look. Maybe if she went in, she could at least get a clue.
"Sir, I'm coming in," she called, just in case. "I just want to make sure you're okay." She tried the knob, and finding it locked, stepped back and looked it over. She could bust it down, but then what if he wasn't there? She didn't want him coming home to a broken door. She bent down, looking at the gap at the bottom of the door, then shifted long and thin and slithered through.
Dracula The knocking and yelling stopped? Oh good, they went away! Drac lowered his head to the floor again, exhausted, and continued his story. "'Bend your legs, little one,' I said. She was so scared and excited. She wanted..." He had to pause to close his eyes and take a breath.
"Go on, honey," Martha's voice drifted through him, enveloping him, filling him, thick like warm blood. "More." As her overly eager word trailed away into silence, Drac almost felt like his life was being pulled away with it. No, that was silly. She just wanted to know more! She'd believed he was dead! She wanted to hear more!
Yes. "Yes. So... she. There was. She was... Mavis." Where was he in the story?
Raven Raven shifted back once she was past the door. She could hear him, now, he was in here, somewhere. She just had to -- there. In the corner.
With a painting.
"Oh Drac." She pressed her hands to her mouth.
He -- he didn't look good.
Dracula Drac heard his name. But if someone was here, then...
He lifted his head slightly to look at the painting, his wife's face nothing more than pigment now. "Martha..."
She was gone again. He growled slightly, pulling himself up to glare at... at... oh, right. "Raven."
Drac turned to her, the burns on the far side of his face and body were now visible. Burns from when he hadn't been able to, hadn't really tried to escape the sun coming into the room. "You have to leave."
Raven Raven straightened, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted to rush over to him and hug him and see about those burns, but he didn't really look like he'd accept that, right now.
"I can't," she said. "Not until you're okay again."
Dracula "I'll be fine. I am fine." He narrowed his eyes slightly and then reached for the painting. "Please leave. She won't come back while you're here."
RavenRaven stepped closer, edging in until she could get a look at the painting. "Who won't come back?" she asked softly. "Who were you talking to?"
DracDrac stroked
the painting as if wiping a tear. "It's not fair to her. Imprisoned; alone. I never knew. All these years."
Raven"She's beautiful," Raven said. And her heart broke a little as she realized that this was probably what she needed to convince him to destroy. "Who is she, Drac?"
Drac"My wife." Drac drew a shaky breath. Why was he so tired? Ah yes, he hadn't slept, that was it. He was telling Martha about Mavis. All the happy times that she hadn't been there for. That he'd selfishly enjoyed while she'd been trapped.
RavenWell fuck.
"I'm so sorry, Drac," Raven whispered. "But --" She took a deep breath, stealing herself. "It's not real. It's a trick. It's hurting you."
Drac"No." He shook his head and smiled softly at the painting. "It's just the curse. If you'd only leave, she'll come back to me. We can be together, not alone."
Raven"No, Drac, the curse is what's making you think she's in there!" Raven knelt down next to him and reached out, hesitating to touch him. "Leland Gaunt, he's -- he's evil. He's been poisoning the town with the things from his shop. The painting's making you sick."
DracDrac looked at her curiously for a moment. "Ah, the shopkeeper. He's going to free her. I've given him the magical stone he needs."
Raven"The stone, you had to steal it, right? That's what he does. He makes you steal things of real value to get -- to get cursed junk." Or, you know, cocaine. "Drac, you didn't -- you didn't even move out of the sun, did you? That's how you got these burns?"
Drac"I was talking to Martha." Drac looked up at Raven, unsure what she was talking about, then down at the burns he could see, his tattered clothing. "I... I should heal. Why am I not healing?"
RavenRaven wanted to grab him and shake him. "Because you're being poisoned. The painting is cursed, Drac."
Drac"I know that!" He roared at her... as much as he could. "That's what I am trying to fix! It's all my fault. I left her and she was cursed."
RavenRaven fell back in the face of his anger. She wasn't afraid -- as terrifying as Drac was capable of being, he was too weak now to be really formidable -- but she knew his protective streak. She'd been on the wrong end of it before, when he'd hypnotized her to try to keep her safe. He'd do anything for the people he loved, and the painting had him convinced he was helping one of the two most important people in his life. If Mavis were here, she might stand a chance, but Raven didn't even have her number, and she didn't have time to look it up.
There was no way Raven was going to be able to get through to Drac. So she'd have to become someone who would.
She closed her eyes, locking the figure in the painting in her mind's eye. It wasn't a lot of information to work from, so she borrowed details: Mavis' coloring, her figure and her voice, adjusted for age -- and shifted.
"Drac," she said, as she crept forward again. "Drac, come away from there."
It wasn't a perfect mimicking. There was no way that Raven could truly become Martha, not based solely on a picture. But she was hoping the blend of Mavis and her mother would get through Drac's defenses. It was manipulative and nasty, but if it got the job done, Raven didn't care.
DracHe gasped and looked from the vision in front of him to the painting. This... Wait. Martha's face was still in the painting.
But she was there!
"Martha?" Had the magic worked?
RavenRaven gave him a soft smile. "It's me," she said. She held out her hand to him. "What have you been doing over here?"
She kept her tone light, almost like she was talking to a child playing some silly game. She had to be careful here; she had no idea what sort of relationship Drac had had with his wife, if they'd been playful or romantic or argumentative. She went for a dreamlike atmosphere, let the surreality of the situation drive the scene.
Then, you know, maybe he'd think he dreamed the whole thing and wouldn't be pissed at her when he was himself again.
Drac"I... I was waiting. Waiting for you." Drac was wracked with confusion and conflict. The Martha in front of him... here were small things wrong with her. Things only he would notice.
But the other Martha wasn't saying anything, she was back to being a portrait. He could feel a connection to it, though. Like a bond, a connection of energy,
their zing...
Still... He couldn't send away the Martha that was in front of him, to doubt her!
"I don't know what to do." His eyes closed and he raised a hand to his face, wincing as he came in contact with the burns.
Raven"Shhhh," Raven soothed. "It's alright, darling. You've been ill, it would make anyone confused." She looked him over sadly, hand hovering over one of the burns without touching. "And I've left you alone so long."
Drac"It was I who left you." Drac set the painting down and reached for her hand, wincing as he pressed it against his cheek. "I shouldn't have tried to calm the villagers. I should have stayed with you and Mavis. I should have saved you."
RavenOh Drac.
"You did what you thought you had to. You always have." Raven stroked his cheek gently with her thumb. "All I want is for you and Mavis to be alright. You're all she has now, Drac."
Drac"But you... You said you could come back if I stole the jewel. The spell."
The thought struck him that her touch was... not as familiar as it should have been. Still comforting, but more like a child's comfort.
RavenDammit dammit dammit. She was losing him.
"That wasn't me," Raven said softly. "I'm gone, Drac. I'm so sorry, but I think deep down you know that. The painting has been lying to you. It's trying to take you from Mavis. From our daughter."
Drac"I don't want you to be gone..." Drac started to reply, then his face grew dark and harsh, his eyes flashing. "Trying to... take me from Mavis?"
Raven"It's killing you, Drac," Raven said urgently. "She's already lost me, don't let her lose both of us."
Drac"Mavis..." Drac looked from Martha to, well, Martha. He was confused and angry and not sure what to do.
Except that he did know he couldn't let Mavis get hurt.
But he couldn't think! He was so tired. Like all of his energy was gone. "Why am I so... I don't know what to do." Who to believe anymore. How to save Martha or protect Mavis.
Raven"It's the painting," Raven said, barely managing to keep the 'dammit' off the end of the sentence. "I want to help you -- all your friends here do, to make sure you can get back to Mavis. But you have to be the one to do it. Drac -- the only way to protect our daughter is for you to let me go."
Drac"I...!" Drac's face collapsed into agony at the suggestion. It took only a moment of her intense gaze, though, before he dropped his eyes and reached for
Martha's hand again.
She'd always been so strong, always known what to do.
She should have lived instead of him. But she hadn't lived, had she?
"My love. What should I do?" His voice shook, but he was listening to her now. Again. As always.
RavenOh thank god. Raven gave his hand a squeeze, hoping that she didn't jinx them. She was going to have to ask Drac about his wife later, find out what kind of person she'd been. She knew she couldn't possibly be doing the woman justice.
"Destroy the painting. Rip it up, smash it, it doesn't matter. Do that, and then we can get you healthy again."
DracThe painting. He clutched Martha's hand tighter as he looked down at the work of art. The face there... was as if it was torn from his memory of that last night.
And he had to destroy it?
But she was right. His head was clearing slightly as he listened more to the person in front of him than he did his own thoughts and feelings. He... Ever since he'd purchased the painting, things had been different. He had become different. He'd felt the old hatred and fear return, the guilt at living instead of his wife. He'd stolen things, refused to see his friends or do his work, forgone sleep and food... And when was the last time he'd spoken with Mavis?
Martha would never have asked any of that of him. The painting had.
His free hand shook as he lifted it and the slash was more of a weak downward drop than anything, but Drac somehow managed to put his claws through the canvas. The more he ripped the painting, the more free he felt. His thoughts, his emotions... they all seemed to tingle and become alive again, his own.
And with that also came the pain. Not just from the burns and fatigue, but the feeling that he'd come so very close to losing his actual soul. His life essence... the painting had indeed been killing him. He could see that now. Not something he had come across before, but he could understand it.
He barely even acknowledged the spectre that emerged with a strangled howl when he finished destroying Martha's face; he couldn't, really. He collapsed into the body in front of him. "Thank you... Raven," he managed before passing out, one hand still stuck in the painting.
RavenRaven caught Drac as best she could while still holding onto Martha's shape -- until she heard him say her name. She shifted with a smile, stronger in her natural form than she'd be in one as unfamiliar as Martha's. Strong enough to hang onto Drac and get him to help.
"You're welcome," she said softly, gently pulling his hand away from the now shredded painting. She had to shift him around a little before she found a position she could move him in, but soon enough she was lugging him away, headed for the clinic.
She just hoped someone there knew how to treat vampires.
[So many ♥s to
tigerundercover for this!! NFI, obvs.]