"If you're Dracula, then I'm the queen of England."
"You have nerve, boy," the vampire said.
"You don't scare me," Xander retored. "See, my great grandfather is a vampire hunter. His name's D."
"The dhampire?" the vampire's eyebrows shot up. "Impossible. He's a myth."
"And if you believe that, that just proves you're not the real Dracula. Not like I needed more proof. That's just my dad's side of the family."
"And your mother's side?"
"Go back on mom's side a few generations, and you'll find the guy who killed the real Dracula."
The vampire's face twisted as rage cross his face.
"VAN HELSING!!!"
He charged, but Xander stood his ground, pulling out a pair of nickel-plated, pearl-handled Colts.
Fourteen gunshots rang out, and the vampire fell back as he felt them slam into his chest and head.
"Got it one, you phony," Xander said as he drew a stake and approached the wounded vampire. Noticing his stare, Xander tracked the gaze to his guns and smirked.
"Did I mention I had a distant uncle who could cloud men's minds?"
Xander rammed the stake home.