Apparently I can't stop posting random little one-shots. It's a problem, I should join a support group or something. So, this is my version of what might have happened at the Carpathian Feast if there were just a few minor tweaks in the lore and such. There's slash all over the place here, so if you don't like it... you're probably reading stories from the wrong author, to be honest.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sad but true.

"Oh, it isn't me. It's Erin."

Vlad, predictably, lost it at the news and buried himself in a large, dusty book, searching for the answer that would save the half-fang from the flames. Ingrid left him to it, pleased with herself for finding someone else to do the legwork. Her brother would find a way to rescue Erin, and nobody would ever be any the wiser about her own interest.

As time passed, however, and no cry of triumph came, she sought him out, unable to sit by and do nothing. On her way, she ran into Bertrand, who pulled her aside to chuckle conspiratorially.
"He could save her, you know. A kiss from a Dracula would protect her from the flames. He won't find it in that old book, though. The half-fang's as good as dust." And then he was gone.

She offered to take over the research from the Chosen One, turning pages slowly as she mulled over her options. She could tell Vlad the solution, and accept that he was going to kiss Erin, that they would probably get together when Erin survived the ceremony... or she could say nothing, and the half-fang would burn. That wasn't an option; she'd have to tell Vlad... unless.

Bertrand had said 'a kiss from a Dracula'. She was a Dracula.

Erin looked up as Ingrid entered the room where the cage hung.
"Vlad? Oh." The vampiress tried not to be offended by that; the half-fang was stressed out, of course, and was depending on the wimpire to save her. "Ingrid. Come to gloat?"
"I don't know what I've done to make you think that, Erin. I don't want to see you burn, either." She hadn't been lying, earlier, when she'd told her she'd begged the Count to choose someone else. Unfortunately, with hindsight, she suspected that it had done more harm than good, given that she wasn't exactly the rotten apple of the Count's eye. "Luckily for you, I've found a way to save you."

Suddenly, Erin was all ears – it was funny how the promise of escaping certain death could do that to someone.
"What? How? Ingrid, that's fantastic, you're fantastic." She smirked; she'd been hoping the girl would realise that eventually, but it was an unexpected delight to hear the words now.
"I'm glad you think so. Ancient vampire lore says that a kiss from a Dracula will protect you from the fire." The half-fang frowned slightly, peering through the cage into the darkness behind her saviour.
"Then... where's Vlad?"

Ingrid stamped her foot, letting out a snarl of frustration. "I'm a Dracula too! Why does everyone always forget that?" Still, her family issues were not important right now. She had to focus on the task at hand. "Vlad's not here, so I'll have to do. I don't know how much time we have. Is that alright?" She hit the last phrase with as much sarcasm as she could muster, which being Ingrid was quite a lot. Erin blinked, apparently missing it.

"I have to kiss you?" The vampiress rolled her eyes impatiently.
"Technically, I have to kiss you. So you'll have to get nearer the bars." Erin shuffled forwards slightly.
"But why would you do this for me?"
"You saved my unlife when the slayers were chasing me, the least I can do is return the favour. Do you want to burn or not?"
"No! No. OK then. Best just go for it..." And, taking a deep breath as if she actually needed to, the girl moved to rest her head against the bars, cheek facing Ingrid.

"Oh, I don't think we should take any unnecessary risks, do you? No point doing things by halves." She reached through the bars, one hand under the other blonde's chin as she turned her head to face her. She paused for a second, giving Erin a chance to react, watching her eyes widen as she took in Ingrid's meaning, and then she leaned in to capture the other girl's lips with hers.

A jolt ran through her; the feeling was somehow familiar, but there was something about it that felt out of place. She hadn't felt warm lips on hers since... wait. Warm lips? She pulled back, a smug smile tugging at her lips even through her shock as she observed Erin's closed eyes and flushed cheeks. Warm lips, flushed cheeks... it could only mean one thing.
"Breather."

Erin's response was immediate; her eyes flew open and she threw herself backwards in the cage, as far from Ingrid as she could get. Of course, she could easily have walked round there, but that would have just led to hysteria.
"Well, well. And you've fooled us all this time. I'm impressed, I must say. Even suppressing your pulse... Very clever." The girl stared at her, terror giving way to confusion.
"I thought you'd be furious."
"Oh, well, I certainly want to know why you're here, given that you're not a half-fang on the run, but if I was a breather among my family I'd pretend too. Why are you here, Erin?"

The blonde scrunched her eyes shut again, obviously anticipating violence as she answered.
"My brother... you bit him. I came looking for a cure."
"But you've spent no time in the library, you haven't asked Bertrand... you could have pretended it was for yourself. So you must have thought you already knew how to cure him... ah." She did pace around to the other side of the cage then, slow, deliberate steps calculated to intimidate. Erin scuttled away from her most obligingly. "You must have heard that ridiculous old myth the slayers put about." She stopped, facing the caged breather and staring her straight in the eye. The girl was brave; she stared back.

"You came to slay me, didn't you?" The question echoed slightly in the silence.
"Yes. But... I couldn't."
"Why not? You had plenty of chances, especially when we were alone together and I was sick. That first rescue, that makes sense. You needed to follow me to the rest of the family, wipe out the rest of the line. But you've had time since then. Why didn't you do it?"
"I got to know you. You... weren't what I expected."

The vampiress glared for a moment longer, then turned on her heel, leaving Erin to sob desperately in the darkness. This protective measure, she doubted it would work on a breather. She'd have to get Vlad to pull one of his fancy manipulations.

She had to admit that she was proud of her little brother; he'd pulled it out of the bag at the last minute, just when Ingrid was beginning to think that she would have to face off against her father herself. She didn't want to do that; for one thing, she'd likely be consigned to the flames herself, and for another it would mean revealing Erin's secret in front of a hall full of greedy vampires.

Her time to come up with another plan had been somewhat limited by the fact that Renfield was trying to sabotage her youngest sibling's chances of a relationship with the Count; regardless of her own experiences, she didn't want Wolfie to be disgraced in front of all those people. Fortunately, he'd done her proud, and had almost been enough of a distraction for her to forget about Erin's plight for a moment.

Vlad had mentioned paperwork at precisely the wrong moment, and Ingrid had watched the Count's face change even as her brother held his girlfriend over the fire – she'd been pulled to safety at the last minute, and Ingrid had relaxed against the wall she'd been standing by, preparing for a glamorous rugby-tackle to get Erin to safety. Once Vlad had made sure that she was alright, Erin caught her eye, clearly terrified. She'd simply raised an eyebrow in return, tilted her head slightly in the direction of the sleeping quarters, and walked out.

Erin knocked timidly on the door before slipping through and closing it behind her. They both stood in silence for a moment, Ingrid listening for the miniscule tell-tale sounds that would denote the presence of Bertrand or the Count in the area. Vlad was far more noticeable; he insisted on making as much noise as a breather whenever he walked anywhere. The coast was clear.

"What are you going to do?" Erin spoke at last, and Ingrid noticed that her chest was heaving, eyes wide in panic.
"I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you mean." The girl almost collapsed with relief.
"Thank you, Ingrid. And thanks for trying to save me, with the... kiss." She'd turned pink again, and honestly, it was a wonder the girl had lasted so long undetected, with all that blood rushing to her cheeks at the slightest provocation.

"You've never kissed Vlad, have you? Or he'd have known you were a breather." Erin shook her head, looking anywhere but at Ingrid.
"I know everyone thinks we're going out, but... he's not really my type." Ingrid raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the oddly significant tone of the statement.
"Really? What is your type?" The breather looked up at her and the answer was written clearly on her face. Ingrid smirked, allowing herself a long, appreciative look; that was the expression everyone who wasn't immediately related to her should wear when faced with Ingrid Dracula. Right before they got to the screaming, of course. Erin didn't look like she was far off that stage herself, as the vampiress' gaze lingered on her for a few moments more before she turned away with a smirk.

"Fortunately for you, I'm not Bertrand. I can see the occasional... use for breathers around the place. So you can relax." She waited until she heard the sigh that signalled Erin letting her guard down, then spun round to pin the girl against the wall, kissing her properly this time. This was not the chaste peck of the cage; this was a deep, passionate kiss and only the warmth of Erin's mouth against hers as she kissed back reminded Ingrid that the other girl did need to breathe. She pulled back, grinning wickedly. "Or not."

Erin seemed strangely fine with that.

Bertrand paused outside Ingrid's door as he passed, intrigued by the sounds of some definitely feminine moaning and giggling; too much to be produced by one person. His plan had worked, then; the half-fang and Ingrid had been brought together, which would spare them all from the starstruck looks Erin had been shooting the eldest Dracula sibling since she arrived, and which only Vlad seemed to have been oblivious to. Vlad would, no doubt, be upset, but it was better that that happened now than later, if they'd actually started dating.

Best of all, it left the Chosen One plenty of time for training, and time for training meant time for Bertrand. He made his way back to his shroud, the faintest hint of a smile playing over his lips.