Chapter Text
Blood rushed to his cheek accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain. Tears threatened to leak from the corners of his eyes but he could barely breathe as he choked under the tight grip of the monster's clawed hand around his neck. He wasn't able to fight back against the iron fist, his own were broken, shattered bones inhabiting his flesh.
It had been a fraught stint while they had been partnered with the Lobo family, not something Renfield enjoyed. He didn't think it was a good idea, betrayal was a part of their skill set. Dracula had been bestowed with a penthouse suite in one of the many buildings the family owned. Renfield hadn't been able to believe it at first. Everything was sleek, a dark macabre atmosphere seeping from the walls, a perfect habitat for the Prince of Darkness. It was a little too perfect and Dracula loved to comment that it was far better than anything Renfield had found for him before. This did not help Renfield's unfortunate self loathing. One would think it would be easier for Renfield since victims were more easily supplied but actually his role as a familiar was worse now. He was redundant and Renfield couldn't help but feel that crippling sense of terror. Before, despite all of his failings, he knew his master would keep him around but now he knew if he messed up... he didn't dare ponder.
He had been tending to Dracula's cloak, mending it with love and care in his room. "Room" was a strong word. It was as big as a shoebox. Still, it was nice to have a room for once. He wasn't going to complain.
He ran his fingers along the material, sighing sadly as he did. He wouldn't say it aloud but... his heart was in pain. He couldn't believe it, especially after the years of abuse and mistreatment, he loved the creature he had spent decades caring for. But, and it hurt him greatly, he knew his master did not feel the same. Still, he would keep to his oath. Despite everything.
As he sewed loose threads back together, he was startled by the door being slammed against the wall. Renfield's head shot up just as a clawed hand seized him by the shoulder and threw him against the wall. Renfield would have fell to his knees if the hand wasn't pinning him against the cracked paint. Before Renfield could even breathe, he was thrown again to the floor this time, a foot kicking out and smashing against his ribs. Renfield coughed harshly, curling into himself. He didn't think any had cracked until the third time when a loud snapping noise sent blood rushing to his brain. He could hear his master's voice, enraged and bloodthirsty, but it was muffled and incoherent. Dracula kicked him again, pressing his foot down against Renfield's back causing Renfield to yelp then breathe out in ragged pants, each one more panicked than the next. His hands were at either side and he was so focused on breathing that he didn't register Dracula crunching his thick, heavy heel against his right hand, his bones popping and crunching in a vile, disgusting manner. He couldn't move his fingers at all without excruciating pain coursing through his body. He felt horribly sick but he also whited out when Dracula did the same thing to his other hands. He could only warble like a lost bird, trembling violently.
Dracula ran a hand through his hair, inhaling sharply through his nostrils before leaning down, grabbing Renfield by his neck to hoist him up against the wall.
"You wanted my attention so badly, clearly. Now you have it." He snarled in Renfield's face. When Renfield didn't - or couldn't - reply, he sighed in annoyance and smacked Renfield in his cheek, leaving a red mark behind.
A little trail of blood leaked out of Renfield's nose, his head lulling forward while Dracula gripped his throat. He dug his nails into the alabaster skin. Anger coursed through his veins.
"You fucking dare betray me? Go behind my back?" Dracula growled, eyes flashing red.
Renfield finally let a sob break out of him, shoulders quaking fearfully. "I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance."
Renfield had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that he had made a more positive impact on Dracula. He had served him longer than any other familiar. He also didn't understand what was happening. Betrayal? What had he done? What was the crime he was being punished for?
Dracula fisted a hand into the shirt against Renfield's chest and dragged him to Renfield's bed, throwing him against it. Renfield landed against his cracked rib, gasping harshly. He couldn't do anything but tremble and feel his eyes widen as Dracula shredded his clothes into ribbons. Renfield tried to keep calm, he really did, but he knew what was going to happen. He always hated this because he spent so many nights dreaming of pleasant nights alongside his master. It had been so long since someone had touched him out of love.
Renfield stared aimlessly at the wall, tears stinging his eyes as he felt a talon against his cheeks, dipping into his hole. The sharpness was terrible, making his toes curl.
Dracula took Renfield's hips as he shoved himself inside his rotten familiar, bucking his hips. Renfield whimpered and softly cried, his cheek melting into the lumpy mattress. He tried and failed to repress the following moments.
When Dracula pulled out, he watched the hole seep. Blood and semen mixed together to create a truly awful combination. He pulled away and took his belt, lining it up with Renfield's back before striking it. Leather biting flesh, leaving sores and violent welts in its wake. The sheets below Renfield were stained with a myriad of colours and shades. The whole time Renfield's body contorted with the whacks, he could barely breathe after it was like his body was aflame.
He attempted to beg within his mind but he couldn't feel Dracula's prescence there. The vampire had snapped their mental link and that just said to Renfield what he had been dreading. Not knowing what else to do, Renfield succumbed. He just laid there and let Dracula do as he wished, no matter how terrified he was of him.
Tears cascaded down his cheeks, whole body trembling like an autumnal leaf. This wasn't the first time he was treated like this, no he had lost count. He was so foolish to think that Dracula would ever treat him differently.
Eventually the room was quiet. The only thing that could be heard was Renfield's rasping breathing and the low growl from the vampire. Renfield didn't dare move, not even an inch. He stared blankly at the opposing wall, flinching sharply as Dracula brushed passed him but not towards the door but rather the bedside table. Renfield wasn't sure why but when Dracula picked up an old photograph Renfield felt a deep pang in his chest. It was his photo of Catherine and Lillian. The last thing he had of his old life. His only possession. He was terrified as Dracula studied it, then Renfield choked on a sob as Dracula cruelly tore it into pieces. Right in front of him.
Renfield was so lost inside the confines of his mind that he didn't register that Dracula grabbed him by his shoulder and yanked him from the bed. He was viciously dragged down the hallway and it seemed to go on forever until they reached what Renfield believed to be some sort of training room. He hadn't been in it an awful lot, even now everything was fuzzy in his line of sight.
Dracula whistled to the criminal monolith in the centre of the room. The Queen of her own petty kingdom.
"Here." Dracula unceremoniously whipped his arm forward, tossing Renfield's bloody body in front of him, in the middle of himself and Bellafrancesca Lobo. "Your thief. Do with him as you see fit."
Renfield couldn't lift his head up but was able to furrow his eyebrows together. Thief? What? He hadn't stolen anything. He didn't dare in this place and he genuinely had no reason to.
"Thank you, your Highness." Madam Lobo bowed her head in gratitude. "We shall return him to you once we are finished."
"Don't bother." Dracula said coldly. He looked over to Renfield with such anger and hatred. Then he turned on his heel and went through the door,.leaving his familiar to the wolves.
Renfield trembled as he felt Madam Lobo crouch down in front of his face, tilting her head so their eyes could meet. There were several moments of eerie, deadly silence as they looked into each others eyes. Renfield could feel his own heart pounding manically.
His body felt alien to him, the shreds of what remained of his clothes were stitched into the bleeding lacerations. His backside was raw and his hands were pulsing violently.
"So..." She sucked on her teeth, "Why don't you tell me where the money is? Then we can forget your little transgression."
Renfield tried to open his mouth to speak but all that came out was a hoarse grown. Money? What money? Why did they think he took money from them?
Madam Lobo took one of his hands, at first she gently held it but Renfield didn't trust that for a second. Instead,.he braced himself, crying out as she tightened her grip around his shattered appendage.
"I- I didn't take- take anything-" Renfield managed to whimper.
"There's no point in lying." Madam Lobo snarled. "You'll only make all this go longer."
She wasn't wrong.
At least, it seemed like a lifetime to Renfield. The problem was that there were no windows and even if there were it was winter. No much sun in the winter. It was why it was Dracula's favourite time of the year.
His shoulder had been dislocated, one of the rougher, bigger guards had fun tearing it from his socket. His kneecap had been bashed in with a wrench, the same guard did that. Another guard took pliers to his teeth and managed to remove two, blood poured from the gaps and down his chin along with a torrent of tears. Madam Lobo had watched as the two guards teamed up to waterboard Renfield. So much time passed but Renfield hadn't confessed because... he was innocent. He hadn't done what he had been accused of and he was so afraid to falsely confess. Who was to say they'd stop? They'd probably carry on until he was dead.
Renfield was thrown against a chair, like one you'd find in a dentist's office. His breathing was awful, he looked awful. He felt awful too.
"I'll ask you one last time." Madam Lobo threatened, standing at his side. "Where is our money?"
Renfield could only shake his head as he silently cried. What hurt the most was that his master wasn't the one killing him. That he meant so little to him.
Renfield saw Mandy, Madam Lobo's daughter, emerge from the shadows with her toolbag. He didn't bother fighting it. There was no point. He watched her approach as her mother stepped back but unlike the others, she looked... sad. She met his eyes and managed to whisper to him without anyone noticing.
"I'm really sorry. I'll try and do it quickly."
Renfield was terrified but he believed he was hiding it well.
He felt her blade at his jaw and knew what she was about to do. Her niche so to speak. Well, it would be a first. He had never had his face sliced off before. Closing his eyes, he pretended he was somewhere nice. Serene. He knew his afterlife, if he was lucky to be given one, would be vile and very, very hot. At the first incision, he seized up, it felt like lava was being pulled on him, it was such a horrible feeling but perhaps an angel was looking down on him as the door to the room was slammed open. His savior came in the form of Teddy Lobo who halted his demise.
"Wait, Mom," Teddy slid over to Madam Lobo, "shit, leave him, he... fuck, it wasn't him alright."
Renfield couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing to his ears and brain. The pain was that immense he had grown almost numb to it. He was frozen in place, but he could feel the heat of his blood slither down his miscoloured complexion. Through his swollen eyes, he managed to catch a glimpse of Madam Lobo striking her son across his face but Teddy wasn't angry or even attempting to fight back. Instead, his eyes were filled with guilt as he looked across to Renfield who could barely hold his head up. The skin on the lower right side of his face was barely hanging on, his skin growing to a deadly shade of white.
He felt Mandy move his body to the side before the large, beefy arms of one of his assailants gathered his up as carefully as he could. His hair limply clung to his clammy face as he trembled violently against the brute's chest. His vision began to darken, eyes growing heavier and heavier with each footfall that echoed in the room before he succumbed completely to the sweet, welcoming embrace of oblivion.