Prologue

1895

There wasn't a single person in sight that evening. The recent misty fog had started to clear, revealing a forest and a tall grey castle safely surrounded by it. A lone black bat suddenly appeared, heading straight for the castle: all of the windows and balcony doors were shut, but this was no obstacle for the creature.

The bat reached the castle, heading for the nearest balcony door; quick as a flash, he morphed into his human-like form and the doors blew open to allow him access to the room. In the corner was a cradle - a blue baby's cradle. The figure crept towards it, shadow looming over the walls and stretching his fingers out so that he could grab the edge of the cot...just a little further...

"Peek-a-Boo!" Count Burt Dracula boomed, grinning down at the baby inside.

The baby boy took one wide-eyed look up at him and started to shriek, clearly startled.

"Oh God," Burt muttered, quickly pulling his son into his arms and cradling him gently. "There now, son...I'd sing for you, but only your Mommy could stand my croaky old voice belting stuff out..."

The baby stopped crying, having seen no threat now that he knew was merely his father, and giggled up at him.

"Jeesh," Burt managed, keeping a careful eye trained on the baby. "Someone's pooped a lot tonight! Let's see if I can manage to change your diaper at least..."

He carried the baby vampire over to a nearby changing table; he lifted his hand and a purple mist appeared to help him take off the used diaper. It was merely seconds before the trails of mist had dumped said diaper into a nearby coffin-bin, cleaned his son, and replaced the diaper.

"All clean now, Kurt," He said soothingly, picking Kurt up and pressing a kiss to one of his chubby cheeks. "Come on - your Aunt Emma and Uncle Will are coming tonight, so we've got to get you dressed and fed, little vampire."

Before his dear Elizabeth had...had passed, the Count and his wife had been planning something - a big something. They had discussed over the years the idea of a hotel for all the monsters in the world - somewhere they could all go to escape the persecution and hatred of humans, to just be themselves. After the...the tragedy, Burt had made a promise to both himself and his deceased love: the hotel would exist, to stop other monsters from experiencing what Elizabeth had.

Burt had hired the best monster builder in the area and was extremely strict in his designs; after all, it had to fit a lot of monsters inside, plus provide food, sources of entertainment and different ways of getting to all the floors.

"A little bit more there," The Count dictated, pointing his finger to a certain area with his finger. "Like I said, buddy, a lot of monsters are going to have to fit - including all of the yetis and-"

The rest of his words were lost, however, because a drool of spit splashed on the page loudly. Both Burt and the builder looked up, only to see a brunette-haired toddler beaming down at them from the ceiling. Kurt crawled down onto the wall, giggling as he practiced his newest power, and reached out his arms for his father. "Play?"

Burt pulled his son into his arms and chuckled; he wasn't too worried about his son wall-crawling, since it was just something that vampires did at Kurt's age. "Alright. Go set up the skeleton dollies and teacups while I finish working."

He put Kurt on the floor, who immediately crawled off to prepare for their latest tea-party.

"Come on, little bat! I'm gonna get you!"

Kurt was getting way too fast, even if he was on a play-horse thing. Then again, Burt was hunched over as he ran, so he was slower than he normally was. The vampire had to stop for a moment to rub his back tiredly; being a single parent was no small feat.

"Daddy? What out there?"

He looked up and realized, with horror, that someone had left a door out of their castle open - and now Kurt was edging closer to it curiously.

"No!" He barked, using his vampire speed properly to run and pick Kurt up. He kicked the door shut and sighed as he carried his son further into the castle. "We never go out there, son. Never."

"...But then Harry the Human found them!"

Kurt whimpered from beneath his blanket. "I'm scared!"

"He came to bite their toes," Burt continued to read from the storybook, grinning when his son hid further beneath the bedtime blanket. "And jump out from under their beds...and take all their candy!"

At the last line he reached and lifted the blanket - only to see his son gone. The Count looked around the bedroom in confusion, wondering where his son was, before he heard a noise from beneath the coffin-bed. He cucked his head over the edge to look.

Wide bluey-grey eyes blinked back at him in a terrified way. "Don't take my candy!"

Burt chuckled, reaching a large hand to pull Kurt back up onto the bed. "Don't worry, champ," He said, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. "I promised your Mom I'd keep you safe from those awful humans. As long as I'm here, nothing will harm you."

Kurt sent a grateful and childish smile up at his father, showing off his pearly white fangs. "Okay. I love you, Daddy."

Burt tucked his son in again before leaning down to press a small kiss to his forehead. "Love you too, monster."

Flying is usually a power that requires both a time of maturation for a vampire and practice. Kurt had reached an age where he could now turn into his bat form if he really tried, and it would come in handy when it came to hunting with his father. Because of this, Burt had decided to teach his son how to do it properly.

"Just bend your legs and push off," Burt instructed, watching his boy carefully. "Trust me - I'm here."

"You'll catch me?" Kurt asked unsurely, and Burt nodded. The young vampire took a deep breath, shut his eyes and did as he'd been taught. He didn't even realize he had morphed until he heard his father bellow with loud laughter and he looked at himself. "Daddy, look!"

"You're doing great, kiddo!" Burt cried as his son started to fly around in circles around the room. The elder vampire also changed into a bat and started to chase Kurt around the room playfully. "You've got it!"

They were interrupted moments later by a knock at the door.

Burt stopped in mid-air, hovering on the spot: it was the builder guy, who was looking rather excited about something. "What?!" He snarled rudely, annoyed that his time with his son had been interrupted. "What is it? It better be important!"

"Oh!" He spun to look at Kurt, who appeared to have just bumped into a wall. The baby bat shook himself and beamed at his father. "I'm okay!"

"It's ready, sir."

Ah. Now, that was important news after all.

"Just finishing up the roof," The chief builder said proudly, pointing in the general direction of the hotel. "You'll have to excuse the time it has taken, Count - zombies are very slow workers."

Burt eyed it from their spot on the balcony. "And it's safe from humans?"

"Oh, yes!" The builder answered excitedly. "It's surrounded for miles by a spooky forest - even further in is the haunted cemetery of the living dead, just on the borders of the grounds. Any humans even heading in that direction will run for the hills!"

Finally satisfied, Burt smiled to himself. "Great. Now, come tell me when it's ready for us to move in."

"Of course, sir," The builder agreed, nodding - however, he hesitated a second later. "But a word of advice? No fireworks or bright lights, in case it attracts-"

"I've got it," Burt grumbled: he then turned away and moved back into the room - his bedroom. There wasn't much in here; spare clothes and capes, a coffin for him to sleep in...and on the desk in the corner was a painted picture of him and his family.

The Count walked to the desk and picked the picture up; his rough fingertips brushed against the cold glass, lingering on the face of a pretty young woman with brunette curls. In the painting she was holding a baby, bundled up and to her chest - it was obvious, though, that the baby bore a resemblance to its' mother. Burt was also in the painting, smiling broadly as he wrapped his arms around his family.

"This is it, Elizabeth," He muttered, not caring how absurd it was to speak to a painting. "The place we talked about for Kurt. No one will harm him here."

Ever.