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Usually, feeding on a bad person only resulted in the individual tasting disgusting and not having much nutritional value. The vampire equivalent of expired snack food one found at a gas station.
Occasionally, though, their character would be so foul, so utterly irredeemable it caused the count to get severely ill.
As was the case that night. Renfield knew he was hasty in his choosing's. Sunset had been nearing, and he needed some sort of meal. The man at the campground seemed rather polite. He didn't have much of a choice. His sloppiness had cost him, since he was now stuck by his master's side while the effects took hold.
The sight was not at all pretty. Dracula's skin turned even more ghastly white, his temperature plummeting to painfully cold. At least a dozen comforters were piled on top of him, yet he still felt like ice. His already unstable mood worsened, and he clawed at his assistant every chance he got, no matter what he did. Worst of all, he continually vomited blood, the red-black substance already splattering on every surface possible, even with Renfield routinely emptying out the container next to him. When not heaving, he would hyperventilate, unnerving for a creature who didn't need to breath in the first place.
After nearly a day of this, his master finally stopped getting sick long enough for him to get some rest. Allowing the familiar to do some research on the man who gave him such a reaction (thankfully he had his ID on him.)
Reading through the records blocked out Renfield's senses, he was so enraged. When finished, he tore the tablet he'd been using in two without any use of bugs. It took at least half an hour before he could even think about what he just read, beyond a series of expletives and threats of death far worse than the slit throat he ended up giving him.
The . . . not person, but creature, CJ, was a domestic abuser. Routinely terrorizing his innocent wife and their young children, all while pretending to be a perfectly charming, upstanding church member. He treated her like a slave, acting as the sole authority in their house. He controlled every part of her life, and if she dared say a word back there were dire consequences. Under the influence of alcohol, he verbally brutalized her almost every night. Most disturbingly, he attempted to murder her on more than one occasion, according to police reports, yet painted her out to be insane to their kids. He was even grooming their eldest to be like him, encouraging him to mistreat her and to see all women as lesser than. With help from her family and friends, she finally got a court ordered separation a few months previous, and he was travelling the country for work ever since.
Not without plans to get back into her life, mind you. He used his brother and father, both of which were aware of what went on and was still on his side, to try and manipulate and put her down. Insisting that what she did was wrong and that she ''wasn't a true Christian.'' The woman could do little about this, aside from blocking their numbers and on social media. She couldn't escape him, even after doing everything right in the eyes of the law and from most people's perspective. He still wouldn't let her go. This . . . monster kept reopening the scars he left on her. Letting her bleed out right as she thought they were healing.
When the familiar calmed down, he found comfort in knowing that his fate was fitting. He didn't die as the confident, powerful, authoritative figure he pretended to be, no. He died as he truly was; a cowardly, pathetic, insignificant bitch. Slaughtered like the beast he was to a being who was somehow even more evil than he. Which, in turn, weakened him so much his poor, mistreated assistant could easily overpower him. A fitting punishment for both.
. . . . . . Not that Renfield would ever say so aloud, of course. He rather enjoyed being able to speak.