It was a beautiful day.

The sun was brilliantly shining above. Not a cloud dotted the sky. Birds were chirping from their perch in the trees. And, being nocturnal, such a beautiful day was utilized by monsters all around Hotel Transylvania, who were dozing contently about.

Well, except for a certain vampire.

Unlike his beloved, Drac could not succumb to the call of sleep, no matter how drowsy he felt, or how much his eyelids were drooping. There was that niggling thought - a memory, a reminder – that persisted to keep him awake. One that he had not been able to erase ever since that one, singular, terrible night. A night that had happened exactly 124 years ago.

It was incredulous to Drac, how it felt as though not a day had passed since then. And yet, so much did, with a lot of it leading to the actions he had taken and events that had occurred. But, as his mind so cruelly reminded him, it had all stemmed from that one sole event. If that hadn't happened, who knew how things would have turned out for him, for Mavis... for his wife...

As if the universe had been cued to his internal thoughts, the form cuddled next to him suddenly shifted, soft, drowsy hands flitting lightly over his bare chest accompanied by a light sigh-like moan. The Count felt some of the dark thoughts lift from him in a relieving wave, leaving Drac with only fondness towards the woman resting upon his body. The warmth she radiated from her human self seeped into him like warm honey, relaxing some of the tension that had begun to overtake his muscles. He peered down at Ericka now and sighed, somewhat envious, marveling at how easily she slept and how peaceful she looked in that moment, comforted both by the blanket draped across them as well as the gentle contact of their skins, untroubled.

Well, a part of him did remind himself that Ericka was not without her own troubles, namely, her struggle with the ordeal on the cruise and family name. Sure, the woman had proven her worth in the heroic act of saving Drac from the Kraken's clutches and standing up against the legacy that her great-grandfather had brainwashed her to believe in for so long. But the victory did not entirely satisfy Ericka. She was plagued with the horror of what she was about to let happen, to lose a love... a zing... It was a thing that monsters wouldn't dare to imagine. But Drac didn't have to.

With a sigh, he detached himself from Ericka, gently moving her away so not to disturb her slumber and draping the sheets over her form when he rose from the bed. Slipping on his pajama pants for some decency, he padded over to the window in the other room, drawing back the curtains to get a view of the outdoors. Drac had to admit that most of his son-in-law's ideas were rather nonsensical, but he actually could appreciate the idea for repaneling the hotel's windows with UV protective glass. In that way, the Count could now stand before the sun's rays indoors without burning and take a look out at the perfect day that he should have been asleep to. This day that was as bright and cheery and as opposite as it could get from Drac's current mood.

When he had thought of his wife, it had not been the slumbering beauty that still remained dozing as peacefully content as ever upon their bed. True, they were wed, with the golden bands around each other ring fingers to prove it, but Drac instead had the first woman who had stolen his heart and made him feel that giddy, euphoric sensation, so ideal it felt almost unreal.

Martha.

Her name alone still brought such a pang of sadness to his heart, a tightness that squeezed him, a stinging that pricked his skin, a dryness that parched his throat... and a shudder that went down his spine as he recalled those last, horrible moments he had seen her. The despair in her eyes. The fear...

Drac suddenly wished he was back in the bed, gliding his fingers over the smooth, rosy expanse that was Ericka's skin. Caressing her soothed his mind, allowing him to focus on something other than his past trauma. But despite this effort, his mind kept wandering back to the memories, bringing them right back into his consciousness, and so much more than ever today.

The Count instead settled for rubbing his hands up and down his arms, the motion working not quite in the same way but still providing the comfort that he sought nonetheless. It's not that he didn't want to forget. It was the last thing he wanted to do. How could he forget his zing? She had meant the world to him, and still did, even in her absence. But it was that said absence that filled him with dread, made him uneasy and reminded him that this was the truth he was living. And nothing could be done to change it.

Drac shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing himself to remember that he still had Martha in his life. Not her in her physical, living form, but in the family around him. Being her daughter, Mavis was a constant reminder of that fact, inheriting her mother's grace and beauty, as well as her everlasting kindness. Little Dennis also shared some characteristics as his grandmother. Drac could smile to himself recalling certain expressions the boy made that were a spitting image of the woman, or the way his blue eyes sparkled up at him with admiration.

Aside from his family, Drac also had material reminders of his late wife. The portrait that he'd managed to salvage from the fire had captured them both in their prime, at a time where their love was young and hardships were still ages away. For years he had kept it in his room, approaching it and gazing upon her still, painted figure, recalling the wonderful memories he'd shared with her and held dear to his heart. His old ring was another material reminder of her, a wedding band with a beautiful red gemstone on top that sparkled elegantly in the light. She had had one just like it, and his had found residence on the finger of his left hand for over a century before he was able to remove it and finally move on. And then, he thought, there was also the gorgeous little ukulele that was sitting upon his desk now, looking as fresh out of the box as it was so long ago when he received it as a gift from Martha, a memento of their time spent in paradise (or Hawaii as one may better know it as) after they first met and began dating.

With sluggish steps, he approached the desk, running his hands longingly over the taut strings and wooden surface of the instrument. Many a time he had used it as a one-man 'concert' to sing various songs for Martha, Mavis, and Dennis. Why, just the other night his grandson had asked him how exactly it was that it was played, and Drac had gladly begun the process of carefully teaching Dennis how to pluck out melodious chords, in hopes that the boy would one day become as skilled as he was. The thought putting a smirk onto his face, Drac picked the instrument up and went back to sit at the window, cradling the ukulele in his lap. He very well remembered the first time he had played the instrument. It was for Martha, right at the one-week anniversary of their relationship. On automatic, his fingers resumed the position that they had taken upon the ukulele strings for that simple little song he'd tuned out for her, and began to play it out again. What resulted was a soft, sweet melody, etching itself into his mind and heart. The melody brought with it a wave of nostalgia, cheery but melancholic at the same time, bringing forth a pool of fresh tears that began to brim at the corners of his eyes. As his mind wandered, his fingers continued their caressing dance on the strings, and soon they brought the sweet little song to an end in a soft, tender crescendo.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips in that moment, the soft sound accompanied by an identical sigh from somewhere behind him. Turning towards the source in sudden bewilderment, he came face-to-face with Ericka. She stood shyly a few paces away, having seemingly just awakened. Neither said anything for a moment, allowing Drac the time to let his gaze roam over her, down from the petite bare feet to the tussled platinum-blonde curls on her bed-head. Rather than a robe, the woman had vouched for donning his satin pajama top, the article of clothing fitting her just about as well as a short dress, given Drac's difference in height that allowed its hems to extend enough so that it hung above her knees. The sleeves dangled a bit loosely, the buttons having been fastened in a haste, as evident by how the top few had remained undone in favor of ensuring the ones in the middle were properly hooked so to cover her figure. The twinkle in her blue eyes was indicative to him that she was much more alert than what her tired appearance may have been giving off.

Conscious of his gaze, Ericka shifted her weight upon her feet, interpreting it as scrutiny for interrupting him at what appeared to be a private moment. She bit her lip, and began to speak ever so timidly.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you..." She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

But it turned out she didn't need to search for any more words. Gathering his senses, Drac smiled kindly at her, setting down the ukulele and approaching the woman to give her an appropriate greeting kiss.

"Don't worry about it, honeybat," he assured when they parted, tenderly caressing her cheek. "I should be the one apologizing. I did not mean to awaken you."

Ericka shook her head. "You didn't, Drac," she whispered. "Have you just... ever had one of those sleepless nights?"

Drac nodded, averting his eyes as he felt his mood going back to that cloud of melancholic sorrow that seemed to want to engulf him once more. "Yes," he finally muttered. "I have." He dared a glance up to gage her reaction, and could see that same look of despondency reflected back in her eyes. But along with it was a look of knowing that made Drac feel vulnerable under her gaze. She was aware why it was that he was having difficulty drifting off tonight. Ericka had been informed early on in their relationship of the tragedy that had occurred so long ago, scarring her husband's soul permanently as the memory of it all still weighed down heavily upon him. The blame and regret, and the hand of time that kept ticking on, unfazed, and unable to reverse. Yet even with such an emotional wound, Drac never failed to show Ericka every sign of how he was still able to live fully and find happiness. The wound would not heal entirely, but taking life one day at a time with the friends and family he loved would in no doubt help dull that pain. Cherishing his experiences with Mavis, Dennis, Ericka, the Pack, even the boisterous Johnny acted as a balm to his spirits, uplifting them from the shadows and keeping the dark thoughts at bay.

It was all this and more that was communicated between she and the vampire in that one flit of an instance that their gazes locked together; the expression in Ericka's eyes showing just how deeply she empathized with the man and how willing she was to offer her support and love without hesitation if needed. And he was incredibly grateful, honored even, to be able to call the Van Helsing woman his zing. No matter if he was his second, she was his zing all the same, and would always be.

Unbeknownst to the man, a small smile had begun to tug at the corner of his lips, Drac not having felt it until his cheeks began to ache slightly in response with how widely it had grown. Ericka reciprocated the smile with one of her own.

"And besides," she said, a twinkle in her eyes, "It was beautiful. You have a real talent."

Drac chuckled bashfully at the compliment. "I appreciate it, my love." Then, a thought entered the Count's mind, and he smirked as he picked up the ukulele again. "I could teach you someday, you know."

Ericka grinned, looking down at the instrument in his hands and seeming to give the idea some good consideration before she spoke again. "That really would be pretty cool," she said, her fingers grazing the top of the strings, "but I think that I'd rather just listen for now."

The vampire nodded understandingly. "As you wish, my love." Seating himself back down at the desk, he cradled the ukulele back into his lap and had his fingers resume the position anew. Strumming lightly, he began playing the same tune yet again, this time feeling much more at ease in doing so. Ericka sighed in contentment once more, coming up behind Drac and snaking her arms around his neck. She rested her chin atop his head, a slight sway in her stance as the music lulled the both of them into a peaceful state of serenity.