Although he loathed and detested it, Dracula went Christmas shopping. Undoubtedly every year, he was given thoughtful and generous gifts from his dearest friends. This year he was not going to be the Grinch, even though that was his natural inclination.

For the banshee, he found a lovely cashmere shawl (if she was going to wail and scream, she might as well do it in style). Frankenstein wasn’t getting anything because he was a junkie asshole and would most definitely just sell whatever gift he received for some smack. Dracula did get the Bride a little something since he was sure Frankenstein wouldn’t bother. His choice in gifts were swift and without trepidation, all except for the ghost. Finding the gift that would be just right for her would take a bit more thought and consideration.

He ran through a mental list of all of the material things he could imagine her to ever want and although he was sure of a few, especially one in particular, he just couldn’t make that purchase.

So he bought her a blender instead.

Frankenstein had a relapse and found himself back in rehab. Dracula discovered him passed out in the bathtub at his apartment. His concern grew after a week of calling with no answer or returned messages and he went looking for his troubled friend. (That hide-a-key really did come in handy.)

The bride was finished. She chose herself.
Either way, whether Frankenstein was to be reformed or remain a junkie she would be gone. He lost her and would be alone.

And that made him sad.