Every time they'd given him a new bottle (warmed, now...) he'd used the bulk of the energy to rip apart yet more spells. Not all of it, some had gone to darken his hair and restore his body. Slightly. Enough to encourage Abraham to give him more, not enough to make the man think he'd had anywhere near enough to eat. Even when the warm blood was put in a warmed bottle, by the time it was to him, it was slightly cool.

So he'd fuss.

And gain a few more minutes to snap a few more spells. He was nearly done.

x x xx x x

"That is it. No more blood." Abraham had meant to be firm and unyielding but the vampire's face had simply crumpled. And he'd questioned the beast, to get the same vaguely earnest answers as before. He'd determined that the vampire wasn't a virgin when it died, but finding out why not was frustrating. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the beast was doing this just to drive him batty. As it was, he clenched his jaw on a few choice swear words before they could slip out!

And interspersed among the answers? "Can I have more blood now?" "You said later, it's later, can I have a bottle?" "I'm huuuungry" "What about now?" and on and on and on.

The beast had barely moved. It hadn't said anything but Abraham suspected it was very tired or very weak still. When it wasn't being questioned, the tousled head (hair no longer so light nor thin) would droop and rest on the knees. Getting its attention back on him could take a few seconds, the beast unfocused.

It might have been distracted except what on Earth could be distracting it? Most likely it was simply tired.

And so he caved in and went to get a single additional blood draw. The three assistants had helped draw and donated, he and Seward had contributed a bit, even the butler. Not much from any of them, less than 2 liters (or quarts, as he was in England). Another few mouthfuls of plasma and the beast would be done for the night.

x x xx x x

Dracula smiled slightly to himself. He was nearly done.

And then Abraham returned with a final half-bottle of blood. He took the warmed container eagerly, hands mock-trembling with mock-fatigue and mock-excitement at the meal. He sucked it down with deliberately quiet little whimpers of pleasure and need, noticing that Abraham and the others were entirely suckered. Abraham was also frustrated, stymed, annoyed, and ready to kick something. Lovely.

Humans were so gullible.

And the last few strands were now snapped. The men stood outside the room, watching him through the door. Even now, they were cautious. It wouldn't help. He didn't intend to badly injure or ghoul them but he did intend to amuse himself with their terror.

He grinned at them, a great sharp grin, full of teeth, every sham bit of weakness and confusion shattered. A moment to take stock of himself, his body, their fear...and then he became mist.

Mist that flowed out of the restraints, across the floor, to the door...

That bastard!

The door, and as he found out, every single wall, the ceiling, the floor...he couldn't go through them. At all. The bastard must have blessed them, doused them with Holy Water, lined them with silver, or SOMETHING. A few minutes of swirling about the room, uselessly seeking an exit before reforming in the center to glare at his captor.

x x xx x x

"I listened when you said he was tricking me. I was sure you were wrong. But I listened. And I knew this room would hold him."

The three of them left to go upstairs, cloth again draped over the door's window, the sound of angry and frustrated Romanian muttering pure music to Abraham's ears.

He'd go back down tomorrow night, lay down the law for the vampire, see what it would try then. But right now? The alcohol he was going to consume would finally be to CELEBRATE instead of cope!