Counts of Blood

Author: Lucinda

Rated T for teen due to insanity, violence and possible swearing.

Main characters: the Count, the Master. Presence of assorted minions and mention of other muppets.

Disclaimer: the Count and any other muppets mentioned belong to Henson Puppetry. The Master belongs to Joss Whedon & his writers. The minions are mine.

Distribution – if you want it, let me know.

Notes: Post Muppet Show, pre BtVS s1.

They spoke for several hours before the master decided that it was time for his guest to retire for the day and rest. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the Master wanted to ensure that his guest was comfortable and properly medicated. The Count was shown to a small room, with his bag sitting on a narrow bed, the wall cracked in several places.

"A very nice room. One, two, three, four, five cracks on the wall. perhaps there will be spiders as well..." the Count mused. "Thank you for the hospitality."

"You are a welcome guest, my old friend. If there is anything that you need, send a minion to handle it. Blankets, clothing, someone to eat... anything," the Master smiled.

"Of course," the purple vampire opened his bag, frowning at the clothing inside. "I did not put the red shirt on top of the blue shirt. I newer pack red on the top."

"Perhaps the bag fell?" The comment was soft, and the Master frowned as his guest started to search the smaller pocket of the bag. "You're frowning."

"There should be one small bottle, with thirty six little green pills. I do not see one small bottle," the Count's fingers were tapping against the bed frame. "Perhaps one of your minions wished to count them? They should be returned. I may get... unstable without them. Kermit said that I should newer go without the medications."

"This Kermit tries to keep you from making messy object lessons?" the Master asked, one brow arched.

"Yes. He tries to keep me from too much distraction. An excellent manager, and a friendly reporter. Where are the pills?" The count was scowling at his bag, and started murmuring an inventory of every article that should have been inside. "One toothbrush, and one comb and one tube of toothpaste. One, two pairs of shoes. One, two, three mathematical papers."

The Master stepped back out of the room, and turned to glare at his minions. "Who took care of my guest's bag?"

The two minions in the chamber took a step backwards, glancing at each other before stammering, "Not me, I think it was Paul."

"Where is Paul now?" the snarl echoed slightly, not quite enough to drown out "four, five, six pairs of pants." from the Count's room.

Being far more concerned with their own safety than that of Paul, the minions pointed down one of the tunnels, waiting until their Master turned from them to flee. "I wonder what the Master will do to him?" the first minion asked, glancing back towards the master's hall.

"It won't be pretty. Maybe he'll gouge out his eye. Maybe he'll throw him against a cross," the second minion shuddered. "This will not be a good day for Paul."

"This visitor, the Count. He seems... a bit soft for a vampire," the first one offered. "Do you think he'll be angry if Paul took his drugs?"

Laughing, the second minion retorted, "What sort of vampire takes daily medication anyhow?"

Some time later, the Master returned, dragging the minion Paul with him. Throwing Paul to the ground, he growled, "My friend, this fool took your medicine."

"Sixty-three, sixty-four minutes. Where are my thirty six little green pills, Paul the minion?" the Count turned his attention to the fallen minion, who had a big grin on his face. The monocle made one eye look very large, and there were tiny red veins surrounding the dark iris. "Things get slippery when I can not take my medication properly."

Paul giggled. "Pills... happy little pills. I know why you take them now."

"You took my pills. You ate my pills. How many of my thirty six pills did you swallow, Paul the minion?" The Count's voice had dropped, and his accent was thickening. "I should have taken my medication two hours ago."

Looking up at the master, the Count's hands clenched into fists. "Put him in a room, and lock the door. One lock, two locks... I will wish to speak to him later about this. He does not know the sewerity of his mistake, and I wish to explain it with a calm that I can not gather at this time."

The master seized Paul, and lifted him from the ground, glaring at the now giggling minion. "He wouldn't understand right now. What sort of pills do you take?"

"They are wery potent pills. As they were my pills that he has taken, I ask that you leave him for me to deal with, instead of taking care of the matter yourself," the Count requested. "I wish to take a little time to prepare my explanation of just how poorly he has chosen."

"How long do you think you will need?" the Master walked to the doorway, Paul still dangling in his grasp.

"I will take thirty minutes to calm myself, and then I may wish to borrow a few of your toys to explain," the Count was staring at one of the cracks in the wall, his eyebrow starting to twitch. "One spider, one web, two webs, three webs..."

"I think Darla has reached the point where she wouldn't like to be referred to as one of my toys," the Master commented, glancing back at his guest.

"That wasn't the sort of toy I meant," the Count's voice was soft.

"Of course," the Master's voice was a low hiss. "Should missing your medication be having this much of an effect already?"

"I need to keep a certain amount flowing in my blood for it to work. If I don't take it in time, the lewels fall too low, and it doesn't work any longer. Taking the blood of someone who already has it in them is useless, it's too hard to get enough of the medication into my system fast enough for it to take effect," the Count's words were calm. Folding his cloak, he placed it on the bed, along with the pendant hanging from a soft ribbon.

"I'll put him in a penitent's cell for you, and leave you to plan your explanation," the Master smiled. "This should be interesting."

Thirty minutes after the Master had carried the still-giggling Paul to a cell, the Count left his guest room. His dark eyes were bloodshot, and had acquired flecks of yellow, and there was a periodic twitch of his left eyebrow. He carefully walked around the room, inspecting the minions’ means of amusement before spotting a pair of surgical scalpels on a table. He unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt before rolling them up to his purple elbows, lifting both scalpels from the table. "I will borrow these for a while. They will be useful in my discussion with Paul the minion."

"Just so you know, he's not very penitent," one minion called. "And he's taller than you."

"I have spent a long time with others being taller than I am; I am used to such things. And if he is not penitent now, he will be soon," the Count's voice was calm.

Going to the door of the Penitent's Cell, the Count called, "Hello Paul the minion. We are going to discuss why you took my thirty six little green pills, and why that was a bad thing to do."

Paul giggled.

"Fifteen on Paul," the same minion whispered.

"I don't know, he is someone that the Master knows..." one of the minions who had given up Paul's location mused. "I'll put my money on the purple Count."

"What money?"

"The money from tonight's dinner, of course," the minion retorted.

From the cell, Paul giggled. "If you had the pills, you'd be happy like me."

"No, if I had the pills, you would stay happy," the Count's voice was still calm. "Did you know that the human body has two hundred and six bones?"

"Really?" Paul giggled a gain. "How'd they get that number?"

"Someone must have counted," There was a slight pause. "It is time to give a careful consideration to that number. You have woluntered to help me with this experiment."

There was a rattling noise, and then a piercing scream.

"One toe bone, two toe bones..."

end part 2.