The Red Jacket

A/N: This is a piece of fan fiction I wrote based on the 90s TV Show, Dracula The Series. 

Alexander came upon it so accidentally. He had not even known he had kept it. But rummaging in his wardrobe for a clean shirt, he found it hanging in one corner. The red jacket was quite small and certainly not new. Even hanging in a corner of the wardrobe, its colour had begun to fade.


Alexander stared at it for a moment, diverted from his search. He took it out, wondering how he came to keep it. He had certainly forgotten its existence. But the sight of it now, brought back the memory of a long forgotten night, twenty years ago.


More like a nightmare, thought Alexander. He was ill, in pain and dying. It certainly was an unexpected experience for him and one for which he was not prepared. Death, he could accept. But he had always assumed his would be quick and violent, not this lingering, degradingly painful process.


He had managed to drag himself to the bank of the spring whose waters, Dr. Varney had assured him, would cure him of the poison that was spreading through his blood stream. But before, he could reach the spring, his most implacable enemy was there, blocking his path.


In a way, he was glad of Helsing’s presence there. Helsing would certainly kill him quickly. It was then he saw Max. For a moment, he wondered if Helsing had finally gone mad. This was no place for a ten year old. Even he knew it. Max took off the jacket he was wearing and gently placed it below Alexander’s head. Alexander was touched by the act, due no doubt, to his fast approaching death. Of course, he could have told Max that he could hardly feel anything and that there was no point in Max freezing to death. But he saw the look in Max’s eyes, sadness and compassion and innocence and a lot of things he could not even name and so he refrained, simply thanking the child.


Max was also looking pale and a bit upset. And who could blame him? Thought Alexander. After all, he was only ten and while it was all very well to talk of killing vampires and purging the earth of them, what Helsing was about to do was more or less cold blooded murder. Well, maybe not murder, conceded Alexander. After all, he was a vampire and could hardly be considered as being alive and as such, destroying him cannot be said to be murder. But, murder would do till he could think of a better word.


He could understand Max’s reluctance. Max had staked a few vampires, but it had all been in self defense or defending his brother or Sophie. Never had he tried to kill a vampire that was not even able to move, let alone defend itself. Besides which, Alexander thought, he must be a gruesome sight. Max had probably never seen a dying vampire. Come to think of it, Alexander had never even heard of a vampire dying of natural causes. Hell, their very existence was unnatural!! Whoever heard of a vampire falling ill or being poisoned? And he had been around for a while too. Certainly quite a few centuries more than Max or Helsing who were, after all human and had limited lifespans.


Fortunately for him, Dr. Varney arrived just then, preventing Helsing from putting a period to Alexander’s existence. Just in the nick of time too, thought Alexander. The good doctor had also brought the cure.


Alexander frowned as he tried to remember when he had picked up Max’s red jacket and brought it to the castle. And what was more, he had hung it in his own wardrobe too. But try as he might, he could not remember when that might have happened.


“How much longer is it going to take you to find a clean shirt?” exclaimed the young man who burst into the room without knocking.


He was shirtless and was holding a wine stained shirt in his hands. Alexander looked up, interrupted from his musings, the red jacket still in his hands. The young man saw the jacket in Alexander’s hands and his eyes came alive with mirth.


“That, I think, would be a bit small for me,” said he seriously and with a perfectly straight face, except for his eyes, which were laughing.


Alexander smiled and held up the jacket. “I do believe you are right,” he said as he hung it back into the wardrobe.


“Had I realized you meant to keep me shirtless for the evening, I would have been more careful with that wine,” said the young man as brushing Alexander aside, he reached into the wardrobe and took out a clean shirt.


“That,” said Alexander, “is definitely, a tempting prospect.”


“Why are your shirts all white?” muttered the young man as he buttoned up the borrowed shirt. “May be its time I started keeping a change of clothes around here.”


“High time, I should say,” said Alexander, smiling at his lover.


He and Max had certainly come a long way since that night.


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