Chapter Text
Post nosferatu transformatio, or more commonly nicknamed "the vampire flu" was starting to become more common as of late.
With an increase in humans who took on vampire partners, it was only natural that after some time they would be given the transformative bite that turned them into vampires, too. The side effects of such a change took the form of a nasty cold for the newborn vampires. Treatable, yes. It was bound to go away within a week after getting it and usually didn't fare itself so badly when getting.
But, in all the cases so far that he had treated, Dr. Jekyll had never seen it so badly as he had on Ericka.
Being that Ericka was transformed by Dracula, one of the most powerful vampires in Transylvania, he could understand why the sickness had taken her over in the manner that it did. The woman was practically bedridden from the migraine in her head, her breath short and mostly occupied by hacking coughs. Her body constantly shifted from being wracked with chills or being too overheated. A constant sniffle pestered her sinuses, and in addition to her coughs, sneezes would attack her lungs. The woman groaned as Dr. Jekyll applied yet another cooling pack onto her forehead and took her vitals. He nodded as he removed the thermometer from her mouth. 25 degrees Celsius. It was much closer to the average vampire body temperature than she had been for the past two weeks.
"How is it, doc?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"Better," Dr. Jekyll replied. "We're still getting there, but it is better. From what I can project, you should be good as new in about a few days time."
Ericka smiled. "Oh, good!" she exclaimed, and then hacked a cough.
Dr. Jekyll stifled a laugh. "Yes, but let's remember you are still sick. The symptoms will wear off finally, but I would suggest to keep away from any other vampires. As long as you have it, the sickness is still transmittable."
Ericka nodded as Dr. Jekyll exited the infirmary room, and addressed Dracula and Mavis who were just outside.
"So, what is going on?" the Count asked.
“Progress is being made, it’s not as bad as before,” the doctor replied. “But, as this is still a sickness, I would advise not being so much in the same vicinity as her.”
Dracula crossed his arms. “Well, I can’t just leave her here!” he countered. “She’s my wife, and she needs company!”
“I understand that, sir,” Dr. Jekyll said. “But if I may point out, don’t you two have infants? We would not want you to get exposed and then infect them would you?”
Drac opened his mouth to argue, but realized that the doctor was right. It was only a couple of weeks into their lives, and he didn’t want his little Bram or Marty to be sick already. Thankfully for him, Mavis offered a solution.
“Dad, why don’t you go and take care of the twins?” she suggested. “They need at least one of their parents right now while they’re still so young. I can take care of Ericka and keep her company.”
“But sweetfangs, won’t you be at risk of getting sick?” Drac asked her, concerned.
Mavis snapped her fingers, using her magic to conjure up a facemask and gloves. “I’ll take the proper precautions, Dad,” she assured, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Ensuring that his wife was in good hands, Drac reluctantly made his way out of the medical bay and back up to his chambers.
He knocked on the door, and Vlad answered it from the inside. He had some dark circles around his eyes, and his hair was slightly frayed. The Count smirked at the sight of his father so unusually tired-looking.
“Not as easy as you thought it’d be, huh?” Drac prompted.
“Hey, look,” Vlad began, putting a finger up. “In my defense, I haven’t had to deal with any babies for well over 400 years! Hopefully, neither one of them will end up becoming coffin-wetters like you.”
Dracula flushed with embarrassment, and it was Vlad’s turn to smirk. “Okay, Dad, THANK YOU,” the Count groaned, escorting him out the door. Drac was surprised to find that everything was in order, and the babies were tucked away in their cribs. Bram noticed him first, and he cooed with delight at the sight of his father. Martha - fondly nicknamed Marty - quit chewing on the squeaky bat toy that she was occupied with and babbled happily when she saw Drac, too.
“Ah, there’s my sweet little honeybats,” he gushed, picking each of them up and kissing their foreheads. “Were you good for Vampa Vlad?”
Both of their faces took on a look of confusion, and Drac sighed. “Come on, little blood oranges, you know a ‘Vampa’! A vampire-grandpa!”
His only response was a sneeze from Marty and a loud fart from Bram. Then, both babies began to cry.
“Ah! No, no, no, baby, don’t cry! You Papa is here, now, I know you missed him.” He gently rocked them back and forth, trying to bounce them along and sing “Micheal Row Your Corpse Ashore,” but it wasn’t working. He set them down in the cribs, snapping his fingers. “Ah, I know! You’re hungry!” With a quick flick of his magic, he brought over two prepared bottles of vampire formula for them. The babies paused their crying to look at the bottles being offered, but only resumed the wailing. Dracula thought again, and cringed.
“Oh, I know… some little monsters need their diapers changed!” He held his breath, getting the coffin-shaped diaper pail ready next to him on the floor, and checked his children’s diapers. Neither was soiled. Dracula’s confusion came to him again. He shook a couple of toys to try and placate their sobbing, but they weren’t interested in that either. The Count thought and thought, his eyes looking around for something that could help. And then, as his eyes landed on an object on his desk, he realized just what it was that was setting off their sobs. To test his theory he picked up the object and brought it over to them. The babies paused their crying again, and looked up at the little frame Dracula was holding in his hands. In it was the little drawing that Dennis had made as a gift for when Ericka was pregnant. Each baby reached out, their hands going right to the spot where Drac already had a feeling they would go - the stick figure of their mother. The crying continued, and Drac felt guilty.
“I know, my little babies,” he whispered as gently as he could, caressing Marty’s cheek before doing the same with Bram. “I miss your mommy, too. But she needs to get better first before we can all be together again.” Dracula then hummed with thought. Maybe he could occupy the time by taking them to see someone else.
He picked them up from the cribs again, continuing with the gentle rocking as he carried them over to the far end of the room. His hand felt around on the stone wall for a moment before he found the spot he was seeking. One of the stones pushed in, and the wall opened up before them. The babies immediately fell silent, mystified by the new space that had opened up before them. Drac hadn’t taken them to this part of his chambers, and it was clear that they were curious to see more.
Dracula granted this wish, and went inside, the stone wall behind them closing. Bram began to whimper at being in the dark space, but Dracula gently shushed him. “It’s okay,” he assured, using his magic to light up a few candles along the wall. He continued forward, stopping as he reached the open space of the room. It was a sort of storage for him aside from the attic or basement, items that he didn’t quite want to bestow to either place for sentimental reasons. One of these such items hung on the wall, as large and elegant as it had always hung when it was up by the coffin in his room.
The portrait of him and Martha.
Drac was silent at first. He hadn’t laid eyes on the portrait since before the cruise almost a full year prior. It still made him feel melancholic, reminding the Count of the days when it was him, her and Mavis before…
He pushed the thoughts away. He didn’t want to remember that horrible night. Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped closer.
"It’s nice to see you again, sweetfangs," he whispered. "I know it’s been a little while…. I’ve been so busy helping Ericka and… well…. I have someone I'd like you to meet - " he paused glancing down at the two babies - "or rather, someones."
He presented the babies out to the portrait and the children stared up at it with wide eyes. “This handsome little man is Bram,” he said, gesturing out the arm that was holding onto the little white-haired boy. “And this little one is Martha,” he said, gesturing out with the arm holding the little black-haired girl. Drac chuckled. “Yes, I know. She was named after you, my love. Ericka couldn’t resist.”
His little Marty looked up at the still acrylic figure of the woman in the portrait. She smiled, babbling happily and pointing with a little finger. Dracula smiled at his daughter. “Yes, she’s lovely, isn’t she?” he mused. “She was my Zing before mommy. Your sister Mavis’s mommy…”
“Z-z-aa?” Bram spurted in his other arm, almost in question.
“Oh, what?” Drac laughed. “What’s a ‘zing’? Well, it’s a wonderful thing…” Drac sighed dreamily. “It’s when two monsters - or two people - fall in love, usually at first sight. They love each other, and then get married, and have little cute babies like you,” he reached a finger out to tickle Bram’s belly, and the infant giggled.
“And someday,” Dracula added, looking at both of his children, “it will happen to you.”
He smiled as he thought of the future. Bram growing up to be a strapping young man and Marty growing up to be a beautiful young woman, each of them with their own monster - or human - of their own to love. Dracula would feel as sad as he did when giving Mavis away to Johnny, but, thankfully, he wouldn’t have to feel that pain of letting go until far into the future. Little dhampirs, just like vampires, took a while to grow up, and he would have plenty of time to make good memories with his and Ericka’s children.
Dracula’s attention was brought back when Marty pointed up to the portrait again. “M-mm-ma!” she said.
“Yes!” Dracula agreed. “‘Martha.’ Just like you!”
Marty clapped her little hands at the praise.
“And you’re ‘Bram,’” Dracula said, turning to his boy. The baby pursed his lips together, trying to formulate the word, but all he got out was a raspberry. Dracula laughed, and nuzzled his little head. “It’s okay, love droppings. Mavy had a hard time pronouncing her name for the first time, too.”
He sat down, putting the babies before him and fondly recollecting memories of his elder daughter. He talked and played with the twins, played and talked, until finally they became drowsy and began to doze off. Picking them both up, he made his way out of the space and back into his main chambers. Drac started to make his way toward the cribs, but instead changed his course of direction, going over to the coffin-bed and laying down atop it, one twin on each side of him. The sun was starting to rise outside, and it was just about time for him to get some shuteye as well. After all, he had about six more days to look after his children solo, and he needed to have his wits about him if he wanted to be sharp enough to recall more ‘Mavy Wavy’ stories.
With a snap of his fingers, he switched himself and the babies out of their day clothing into pajamas, and then snuggled them close as he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.