Hurt

A/N: Hi :) Thanks for checking out my story!

So, this is my first fic for this fandom? Well, okay, if you want to get technical, my first fic for this fandom never got finished, because it was a one-shot and I started thinking it sucked, so I stopped...then I wrote this drabble that I never posted...so, this is pretty much the first fic I've written and posted for this fandom, I guess. And guess what, it's a Johnny/Dracula hurt/comfort fic xD like who would have guessed xD

But I do have an excuse this time, and that is that I have the headcanon that Dracula is like EXTREMELY protective over Johnny, like he kind of makes Johnny a part of his family and basically treats him like Mavis, except obviously he's not afraid to scare the piss out of the poor kid every now and then, ESPECIALLY if Johnny were to ever hurt his daughter xD And I guess I just see this as the moment in which Dracula sees how vulnerable humans really are; a monster can defend themselves against the sorcerers, but the humans can't. And so that just builds and builds until he flips out like WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO THIS HUMAN I MUST DEFEND HIM OUT OF MY WAY xD and since this is a fic for a children's movie, I tried to ease up on the swearing, unlike in my other fics - hence Dracula's "meat sacks" instead of an actual swear. And I find their phrases in the movie adorable, so I made up some of my own.

This is set about two weeks after the first film, by the way.

Also, I head-canon that Johnny still sometimes goes by Johnny Stein, to confuse people xD

If you enjoy, please drop some reviews?

Count Dracula made it his business to know everything that went on within the walls of his hotel.

Well, dusty old castle or perhaps terrifying haunted house was the proper term, if you asked Johnny, but funnily enough, the count never had asked him.

Still, aside from the spiders for breakfast on Wednesdays, demented chefs with freakish rats, and the sobering amount of blood substitutes within the castle, the redhead couldn't remember ever being happier. There were still a great many monsters who clung to ancient grudges and old prejudice, but for Johnny, this was hardly a problem compared to all the good things that came with staying here…like Mavis.

The beautiful eighteen-year-old, with her glossy dark hair and deep blue eyes, definitely topped his list, but beyond that, it was the hotel itself. The million rooms and hallways and corridors, the closets and secret cupboards that possessed the power to imprison their occupant forever; the inhabitants, like Murray and Frankenstein and Griffin, who always greeted him with a smile and a joke – although with Griffin, the former was rather difficult to see.

Hell, even Dracula, nosy-overprotective-and-still-a-little-terrifying Dracula, was a welcome sight to Johnny's eyes most days; he never tired of asking the legend for confirmation concerning vampire myths, and even enjoyed helping the count brainstorm ideas for new events to add to the hotel traditions.

So when the ancient, dark-haired vampire flew – literally – into Johnny's room one afternoon, scarlet bat eyes anxious, the redhead was initially pleased at the arrival of the legend, and even smiled at him; at least until he materialized into his wingless form and, black cape fluttering behind him, announced, "We've got company."

Confused, Johnny said, "It's a hotel. We always have company."

Dracula scowled. "I don't have time for your antics! This is serious business, Backpack!"

Evidently not serious enough to cut it out with the nicknames, but the redhead sat up a little straighter and frowned. If it was something bad enough to shake up Dracula, one of the coolest legends to ever walk the earth, then it must be something pretty intense. "Alright, what's up, Drac?" Then, on second thought, he added quickly, "It's not anything to do with Mavis, is it?" He had only known her for three weeks, but he couldn't imagine anything worse than the vampire girl getting hurt.

"I do not require assistance in protecting my daughter, thank you very much," snapped the irritable count. "It's a warning for you."

"For me?"

"My hotel is open to all monsters, Johnny, and there is currently a stream of witches and wizards making their way through these hallways, settling themselves in bedrooms, and unpacking their belongings to stay for the week."

"…Shouldn't you be greeting them?"

"No, you're missing the point," Dracula waved a dismissive hand at the question. "The point is," he added quickly, before the redhead could interrupt with more nonsensical questions, "these particular legends hate humans. All humans. They have been hunted, tortured, and executed, just as we have." He fell silent for a long moment, glancing out the window. Standing, draped in silvery rays of moonlight, the count looked noble and sorrowful. "And some crimes are not easy to forgive."

When the temporary silence fell between the two, the redhead knew better than to break it. He knew how terribly the humans had wounded the vampire before him in the past; knew Dracula must be thinking of Martha, his love, who had died in a fire begun by vicious, spiteful humans; and Johnny kept quiet, letting the other stay silent in his pain.

"…And…" the vampire eventually picked his sentence up again, looking pointedly away from the human as he spoke. "And these witches and wizards hate humans. They won't look kindly on a human wandering the halls of the hotel, and the last thing we should do is offend people with powerful magic. Even with my hotel, they're of a higher status than me."

"Do monsters have a system for this or something? Like this mummy is cool, but there's this severed head who's a loser?"

Dracula blinked at him in silence, and Johnny began to feel like he had said too much.

Finally, the vampire cleared his throat, evidently deciding to ignore this last comment.

"And wait, I thought you had witches all around that clean up the castle? Aren't they nice?"

"They're nice," the vampire allowed, "but there are others…well…" he trailed off and continued instead, "Just make sure you don't run amok of them while they're here. It would be disastrous for one of the most powerful magical groups to see a human wandering these halls."

Staying away from the new guests turned out to be easier than Johnny had expected; he'd been imagining a lonely, boring week spent mostly in his room, door firmly closed, with only an occasional break for meals, but this wasn't so. In fact, the monsters he had to avoid rose early, earlier than he, and they spent almost no time mingling with the other residents of the resort; instead, they returned swiftly after breakfast to their respective rooms, where Dracula said they must be practicing their magic, and warned the other legends not to disturb them.

In fact, a mere six days after their arrival – and a mere seventeen hours before they departed once more – Johnny was strolling the more deserted hallways as he usually did, racing through every unexplored corridor, glancing down every now and then to check his phone, trying to see if Murray had texted him back yet, because damn it, he was going to teach these monsters how the twenty-first century worked if it killed him.

Nearing the end of the hallway, he glanced at his phone again, brows furrowing when he realized the legend had failed to respond – he was going to have to track the mummy down and explain to him how to open the text, again and then—

The sudden impact with something very solid jerked him out of his reverie, and Johnny glanced up, startled, into the face of a burly man with shoulder-length brown hair and numerous warts on his face; the final effect was not attractive, but the redhead didn't have much time to dwell on this, for the man was not alone. Standing around him in a tight ring were at least five others, all much older, with scraggly hair gone white or gray, warts covering wasted faces.

"Hi!" He had never seen these particular monsters around the hotel before, and could only guess what kind they were supposed to be, but he plastered a smile on his face nonetheless. "What's up, guys?"

"Hello," the burly man bent down a little, so as to be eye level with Johnny, and his breath was sickening, "What monster are you supposed to be?"

"Oh, uh…" he glanced down at himself. How could anyone still think he was a monster? He had no makeup, and wore his regular clothes. Ooh, maybe he could still pull it off. So he hitched the smile back on his face and replied, "I'm Johnny Stein. Frankenstein's sixth cousin, three times removed." And he held out his hand for a shake.

"Hmm…I see," one of the older women said, her pale eyes sweeping his body.

"So, what kind of monsters are you guys?" Admittedly, he should probably tell them the truth soon, before word got back to Dracula that he was reviving his old alias.

The old woman grinned, showing blackened, rotting teeth. "We are the sorcerers."

Oh, crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap…

"And we were right."

Before Johnny could move an inch in any direction, or think up an excuse as to why he had to leave right then, the burly man who had first spoken grabbed hold of his extended hand and pushed him to the ground like he weighed nothing. The human hadn't yet regained his wind from the unexpected attack before the wizard kicked him in the side for good measure, driving the toe of his huge black boot into his ribcage.

"Take it easy!" The redhead choked, trying to sit up, but the man rested his boot on top of his ribs now, preventing this. "I don't want any trouble."

"We were right!" Another witch repeated, pale lips stretching into a savage grin. "We've found the human!"

"I-I'm Johnny Stein!" he protested weakly, and the burly man kicked him again to shut him up.

"Please," snorted another sorcerer. "You don't look a thing like Frankenstein! Not a thing scary about you!"

Yet a third witch, seemingly the eldest of the group, spoke up now. "I felt the human presence here – the instant I set foot in this hotel, I knew." Her aged eyes glistened with the rage of centuries. "So…" she drew closer to the struggling redhead. "Are there more of you?"

"N-no!" Johnny coughed, an act that tore at his bruising ribs. "Let me up! We can settle this!"

"The only good human is a dead human!" roared the burly wizard angrily, and he grabbed Johnny up by his shirt, slamming him into the wall behind, beating his head against cold, unforgiving stone. "And we're gonna give you a nice little lesson before Dracula sends you packing." Keeping him locked in place with one hand, the sorcerer then wrapped his other around the skinny throat, pushing, pressing, squeezing…the human struggled, gasping for breath, panic filling every inch of his being, and though he clenched his hands into fists and rained blows upon his assailant, he was weaker than the legend.

As the hand tightened, his lungs begged for oxygen, his vision turning dark…

"No!" A voice, and then the hands holding him in place and choking him were ripped away. He fell to the floor, flat on his back and completely winded, and he caught his breath before looking around for his savior; there, a rather young witch with curtains of deep blue-black hair, stared furiously up at the burly wizard. "Don't do that, I haven't done my part yet!"

"'Sides," another wizard jumped in, "it's always easier to stake 'em alive. That's the count's favorite part."

Stake?

Somebody kicked Johnny suddenly in the chest, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he gasped, rolling over onto his uninjured side. "Guys, can't we talk about this?"

"Humans never want to talk!" A witch spat, her eyes blazing with wrath – she kicked at him, too, and caught his nose. He couldn't stop the cry that fell from his lips when he heard the bones give a sickening snap. "Humans only ever want to talk…" Kick. "…when it's their lives on the line!" Punch. "They didn't want to talk when they murdered my sister!" Jab.

Another attacker raked gnarled fingernails over Johnny's face; scarlet liquid leaked from the fresh scratches, mixing with the blood running from his broken nose.

"We're not like that anymore!" The injured human tried frantically to sit up, to speak, but one of the wizards kicked him savagely in the back, sending him to his hands and knees, teeth gritted, arms shaking from pain and exertion.

Another dealt him a blow to the back of the head, and when the others laughed, it sounded distant and echoey; his vision swam, every being bled into one another, and the light fixture swaying from the ceiling, throwing golden beams over the walls, worsened the pounding ache in his head. The monsters laughed harshly, and they were kicking him…

"Time to turn him into the count?"

Johnny wanted to move, to speak, to run, but he couldn't; when he opened his lips, a small cry tumbled out – a choked, broken sound. Blackness closed over him.

Dracula was not thrilled with the arrival of the sorcerers, to tell you the truth. More than any other monster on earth, sorcerers were known for their hatred of humans, but even before Johnny, the count had never looked forward to visits from the dangerous beings. For they were not simply prejudiced, not narrow-minded; they were cruel, savage people, and their unkind nature stretched to those far beyond humans. They were dangerous; they were animalistic, almost, but instead of having fur and fangs to show for it, like Wayne, they were simply horrid in soul.

And, by his own laws, his own statements, the count could not refuse them asylum.

There had been no way, when the time came, to impress upon Johnny just how dangerous the sorcerers were; no time to speak of the small animals they had caught and tortured; no time to discuss their savage enjoyment of others' pain. There had been no time.

Yet things had gone smoothly, either way; the sorcerers were due to leave the following day, and Johnny hadn't met them once. Yes, things were going perfectly according to plan.

The vampire calmly strolled the halls of the bustling hotel, smiling widely at everyone who passed, cape fluttering behind him, contentment in his heart. For the first time all week, it looked like things were going to be all ri—

A sudden barking cut right through his thoughts and peace; when the vampire glanced around, he saw a dozen werewolf pups racing toward him, noses twitching. "Hey, hey, guys, what's wrong?" He stepped neatly in front of the young animals, grabbing Wiles by the scruff. "Wiles? What's up?"

"Winnie's wandered off again," the pup cried, evidently in despair. "We really can't find her this time!"

"Oh," the count drew a sharp breath at the news. "Not to worry, Wiles, we will find her. She must be here somewhere, correct?" He set the cub back down, patting the furry head. "I will help search."

Winfred leaped up, tail wagging suddenly. "I got a scent! I got a scent! It goes here…" he pawed at the floor, circling the area in which the smell had been discovered. "I can't find it!"

"I'm getting it, too," Wiles reported excitedly. "She must have gone down one of these…hallways…" He let the sentence trail away when he glanced around, realizing the task they now faced: at least fifty different hallways faced them, each one a road rarely taken.

"Let's split up," Dracula decided. "We will each go down one hallway, right? If you find Winnie, call out to the others to let them know." He watched the wolf pups edge nervously down the dim corridors, tails drooping in fear and reluctance. The count sighed before turning to the nearest hallway himself, and beginning the trek.

Sudden hope entered his heart at the sound of laughter coming from somewhere farther down the hall; he gave no thought to how the laughter sounded, no thought to the fact that it was not ordinary, wolf-pup-having-a-good-time laughter – he thought only of the fact that he'd heard it, and this was a good sign. He raced excitedly along the dim hallway, long legs eating up the distance easily. Yet when he spotted the source of the noise, he began to wish he had not followed it after all.

Ten feet away stood the sorcerers in a loose circle, brutal howls of glee ripping from their throats, tossing back their heads, turning their warty faces toward the ceiling.

"Time to turn him into the count now?" questioned one of the men, and Dracula felt a wave of confusion. What would they want with him?

But no being in the animal kingdom, whether feathered or furred, could produce the sound that came next: a soft, pained noise, almost like a whimper, a human whimper…had they found a human wandering outside the hotel?

The count stepped swiftly from his hiding place, determined to scope out the situation, but a sudden glimpse in a gap between the sea of knobby legs drove all thought from his brain. For this wasn't an unknown human they were hurting, oh, no. This was a human with a mop of wild, curly red hair and Dracula had only seen one human in the world with hair that shade, that volume…

Dracula realized.

And Count Dracula, proud, defender-of-monsters, hater-of-humans Count Dracula saw red.

"What are you doing?"

One burly wizard spared the vampire only a glance, eyes widening and softening when he spotted the other. "We've found a human in your hotel, Count," he reported. "We were disposing of him for you."

"Get away from him! Get!"

"He's ready for staking now," agreed a witch, taking a step back.

"Out of my way, meat sacks!" Some fifty-dollar four-letters were definitely building, but Dracula shoved them aside. "Get away from the human!"

"Count, what's going on here?"

The vampire exploded. "I want you to get out of my sight – no, out of my hotel – before I resort to the old rituals again!"

The sorcerers did draw sharp gasps at the mention of the old rituals, but Dracula ignored them. "Now get out of my hotel. You are never welcome here again."

"One might think you were defying us," snarled a witch.

"One would be right!"

"You're defending the human, Count?" snapped the brunette wizard. "We can dispose of him ourselves!" And he gave the human at his feet a sharp kick, as if to ascertain his dominance.

Dracula tossed out a pale hand, sending a burst of power at the sorcerers, freezing them where they stood; they moved not an inch, for under the ancient vampire's power, no one could stand.

The proud count fell to his knees beside the human – the weak, vulnerable human, he should have told him, oh, spider guts, he should have told Jonathon how awful they could be – and looked down into the pale, drawn face, brows down low, lips closed and unsmiling for once. Above the lowered brows, a dark bruise was forming, spreading like a great storm cloud; blood dripped every few seconds from a clearly broken nose and three scratches on his cheek; and there were marks on his throat, finger marks, huge finger marks, somebody had grabbed Johnny, somebody had choked him, and Dracula would kill them, he would make them pay…

"Hey! Hey, Drac, just wanted to let you know, Winifred found Winnie, everyone's fine and thanks for your help…" The werewolf suddenly cut himself off at the sight of the injured human. "Holy fleas…what happened?"

"The sorcerers," the count's hiss could have chilled the blood of a stronger monster than Wayne.

"Oh…"

"They'll regret this." Dracula took to his feet, blood pounding in his ears. The sudden, painless death he possessed the power to deliver would be too good for these cowards, these bullies, but he must content himself. He extended a hand, fingers out, palm facing them, building up the blast. "Shut your eyes, Wayne," he instructed tersely; the near-blinding light this burst would produce would be uncomfortable for the werewolf's keen eyes.

The vampire readied himself, taking a deep, slow breath; calling the power forth; urging it; building up the blast within a palm and—

"Wait!" A paw crashed suddenly on Dracula's arm, impairing his aim; the blast intended for the sorcerers glanced off a nearby doorframe, filling the hallway momentarily with an icy, blue-white light. Wayne squealed, rubbing at his sensitive, canine eyes, but Dracula hardly cared; rounding on the werewolf, eyes burning, he demanded furiously, "Why did you do that? I had them right where I wanted them!"

His friend winced and chanced to open his eyes; evidently the worst of the pain was over, because the signs of his discomfort were slight when he replied. "Think about it, Drac! We can't go starting wars with other people!"

"They hurt Johnny!" The vampire's voice rose dangerously, a positive howl of rage by this point, and still the werewolf blinked at him, firm yet serene.

"I know, and it's bad, but you don't—

"They hurt Johnny!" he repeated, and with these words, he twisted away from the werewolf's grip, freezing Wayne where he stood. He rolled up his sleeve slightly, taking another breath, preparing another blast…

…when a small sound from the human at his feet had him instantly turning again, discarding the blast and kneeling down beside the redhead once more, staring into the still, pale face, body curled awkwardly as if to protect himself, to defend against the attackers, trying to get away…the vampire's blue eyes fell to the marks circling the small throat; his own seared with rage.

He couldn't think; he couldn't look; he would go crazy if he did. And Wayne was right. He unfroze the werewolf, never looking at him, speaking quickly. "Dispose of them. Just get them out of my sight, out of my hotel – quickly, before I change my mind."

The count could feel the canine gaze on him, covering him like a garment, but he refused to meet the other's eyes; when at last the werewolf had gone, Dracula gently scooped the hurt human into his arms, cradling him so as not to aggravate an unseen injury.

But this was in vain, he realized when Johnny groaned quietly, hands moving to clutch at a clearly pained ribcage; when the memory of the burly sorcerer delivering the kick flashed through the vampire's mind, his vision flashed momentarily red again.

He swept swiftly down the corridors, taking shortcuts, seeking the deserted areas…if his friends could see him now, holding a human…

And if, thirty minutes later, he stumbled into Jonathon's bedroom and released him onto the bed, then immediately rushed for a castle witch experienced in the art of healing…and if he then hovered by the healer witch, watching anxiously as she looked over the human with a practiced eye, finding invisible injuries and voicing them…and if, once she had departed, Dracula stayed by the human's side until he came to…and if, after that, the vampire grabbed up the redhead in a bone-crushing hug that lasted a good ten minutes…well, neither would ever admit it.