There was smoke everywhere in the ruined courtyard. Alucard stopped. Eyes narrowed slightly. Someone was there, slumped beneath the outer wall.

Not human. Not monster. Blood told him everything else.

He approached. Watched your fingers twitch.

"Not dead," he said softly. "Just reckless."

He gathered you without hesitation, he took you in.

Inside, the fire crackled. He set you near it, arranged the blankets with care around you, then sat in the far chair without looking again.

Two days passed.

When your eyes opened, you didn't speak. You barely looked at him and he didn't seem surprised.

"You are safe. A bit out of it but safe. That is... progress."

He exhaled, turned a page he hadn't read. "The food is there. I make no claims about the taste."

Later, the tray was empty.

The next morning, your steps followed his through the corridor. He let them. Until the floor near the west stair creaked.

"Careful," he said, not turning. "That board bites."

In the library, a book was left open. Middle of a chapter. Spine bent wrong.

He passed by and said, "You have to start at the beginning, you know. Stories are terrible in reverse."

The next time he checked, the page had moved forward. Neatly.

He said nothing.

He returned late one evening to the study already lit. Fire burning. A second cup on the table beside his.

He paused. Raised an eyebrow.

"So you have decided to stay?"

You didn't look up. He sat anyway. Drank.

When the storm hit. You were asleep, still wrapped in that same cloak, chin tucked low.

He approached. Adjusted the blanket. Let his hand rest for a moment longer than necessary.

"It is strange," he said, barely above a whisper. "I had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone else breathing in the same room."

You didn't stir.

"Not unpleasant."

And for the first time in longer than he cared to measure, the silence did not feel so stifling.