1. Sweat (1/1)

new angsty dramatic story. i promise it's not all angst. some slashiness. enjoy.

spoilers for all of series 4.

disclaimer: the show is not mine, etc etc.

"bertrand," vlad murmured, still sound asleep, "bertrand..."

above him hung a single skeletal finger; sethius'. renfield had scattered the ashes of his tutor to the four winds by the time vlad had finally come to his senses and been filled with remorse, and the bone was the only thing of bertrand's he had been able to keep hold of without drawing his father's attention to the fact that he'dbeen the one to lock bertrand's room and pocket the key.

vlad wore it, sometimes, under his shirt, even though it creeped him out a bit. it was comforting, somehow, to know that bertrand had worn it too. usually, however, it simply hung over his coffin, as if pointing the finger of blame, blame vlad knew he deserved. reminding him never to judge a book by its cover.

right now, though, it wasn't reminding him of anything. it didn't have to. he was reliving everything over and over again. not just the night he'd murdered the one person he should have trusted above everyone else; no, that would be too easy, too lenient a punishment. no, all he could see was every time he'd hurt his tutor. every time he'd lost his temper and thrown a punch in training, every time he'd turned him away or sneered at him. he remembered almost turning him to stone, and he remembered telling him the only person he could trust was erin. even in his dreams, vlad couldn't get over how incredibly badly that had worked out for him.

and then, as if the thought of erin had summoned her, he was standing in the throne room, exchanging verbal barbs, and bertrand was walking in.

"bertrand!" he was yelling, now, in his dream, somehow separate from himself as he watched the stake plunge into bertrand's heart. he couldn't see the vampire's face as he crumbled but he was sure it was full of hurt and confusion. vlad watched the dust settle for what seemed like the thousandth time, barely aware of erin in the background somewhere. "bertrand," the part of him he was still in control of sobbed. any moment now the scene would change and he'd be trapped in another painful memory, but that wasn't so unbearable because bertrand would be there.

that was how it always went, but this time the scene didn't change. erin stood there, hand over her mouth, staring at him in horror, and he stared back at her, and then she turned and fled and he was still there, still standing in the throne room covered in dust, covered in bertrand. he fell to his knees, careful not to disturb the pile of dust, willing it to turn back into his tutor, but it didn't."bertrand..." it was all he could choke out."vlad." the word sounded echoey, hollow, as if from a distance, and vlad sat up in a hurry, bashing his head on his coffin lid.

he opened the coffin and tried again, reaching up to pluck bertrand's necklace from where it hung above him and slipping it over his head, trying to feel close to the man he'd known – the man he'd killed. he was dimly aware that he'd

oken out in a cold sweat, but he didn't care; he just sat there shivering and trying to convince himself that bertrand would be at

eakfast.