Sanctuary to the Lost and Damned
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AN: When this popped into my head I originally thought that this might be a one-shot thing, but it seems to continue on.
I should inform any new readers before they start that although this story contains mpreg, but this is not the only element of the story. (I thought that it might be neat to do one, since I have read on in this canon.)
There are various characters, both from the Hellsing canon and from my own creation. The story also follows other events which have nothing to do with the mpreg element.
If you do not like mpreg, I still encourage you to read this. If this is the case I suggest that you start reading the story at 'ch 12 - Walter Dornez'. This will leave you out of the loop for some of the coming events, but it should still mostly make sense. You will probably still enjoy the plot line with the other characters.
Rating: M...just to be on the safe-side as there are chapters which are meant for more mature readers.
Please review.
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Prologue
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April 1930...
The rain fell down on the old cobble roads. The street lamps had long since been put out. It was the dead of night, a time when only vermin and the wicked were given free reign of the land. But that was the way he liked it.
A creature of the night stood by the corner of a small shop, with a sac looped around his shoulder resting on its back. He looked up at the clouded moonless sky as he continued holding a small bundle of cloth in his arms. He hated England and its weather. He missed his homeland and longed to return to it, but reminded himself of a few bitter truths that he had only started to accept.
The first was his defeat to a human...though the hardest was his enslavement to a human.
His "master" had made a number of rules for him.
Though the cardinal rule was not to attack and certainly never to drink from a human, this meant instantly that he would be without companionship for as long as he served the family. Perhaps it would be forever. He shivered at such long lasting loneliness. Vampires, though believed to be individuals to most, held a wolf-like pack mentality in which there was a dominant member, alphas and submissive members, their betas. He had been an alpha, but his human 'master" had changed that.
Failure to follow "his" rules usually meant he was beaten, whipped, staved and put through torturous methods, often of his "master's" own invention.
In the beginning he had spent his days in a damp cell in sliver chains. It was agony. The man had starting starving him from the beginning, to weaken him. This changed after a time to provoking him to attack. The human would then laugh in delight as he screamed in agony, a result of the magical seal of enslavement put on him. He learned quickly about how much power the human had over him.
He was eventually let out of his silver chains, only to be put on his "master's" leash, like a dog. No, he was treated like less than that, he was regarded as a stray, of which his "master" boasted, could turn into a fighting dog. All the while the creature tried to find some loophole in his situation; hopefully one which might lead to his freedom.
After years of searching for a solution to his problem, no such answer was found.
If there truly was a god, though he sometimes doubted it, this was undoubtedly his punishment. He had concluded long ago that God had abandoned him. Now there was further evidence to this long held belief.
The bundle of cloth made a small cry. The vampire held the bundle up to his chest. Not that the heart beat would sooth it, as he did not have one, but because he felt the closeness between them and a tugging at his no longer beating heart.
How had his life come to all of this? How had he fallen from having so much power to being a slave to a human whose arrogance might at times exceed his own. He had become an experiment, a stray hunting dog, (a kicked one at that) and on at least one occasion, a whore.
He walked quickly down the center of the street confident that no one would see him at this hour as he made his way to his destination. He wasn't truly worried about what people might say if they saw him, but he had left the manor without permission, and if caught would be forced to endure at lot of pain. Where this pain would come from, even the vampire did not know. However he was certain that it would come as he knew that his "master" would not tolerate any disobedience.
He reached the church far quicker than he had hoped to. The familiar tugging in his chest began again.
The church doors were open, as they often were, to provide sanctuary to those who needed it. That was why he was here. He was glad to find that the place was empty. It was perfect because he did not want anyone to see him now.
He lied the baby in a small basket he had stolen from one the maids while she hung laundry. Then placed in the center of the alter. He looked down at his son with a mournful look. He had not felt like this since his true love reincarnated had abandoned him. The child's eyes wondered around the world which it was new to. Its eyes fixed to his more than once. The vampire could not help but think how much it looked like the human who sired it. The boy had its father's blue eyes and a small bit of blond hair on top it's head; the vampire reminded himself that these features might change as the child ages.
He pulled out the letter that he had prepared, from his pocket and slide it under the basket. He knew that someone would find him soon as it was the early hours of Sunday morning and the priest would be there soon.
He stood there for a moment, taking one last look at his son. The baby started to cry. He moved to cuddle it, but it cried more. It occurred to him that he was the reason it was crying. His red eyes and fangs were indeed a scary sight to behold for any human. His son was a human; at first he had wondered if it would possess vampiric qualities, but it soon became clear to him that biting a virgin was truly the only way for a vampire to reproduce another.
As he left the church he wondered if he would ever encounter his son again. If so would he tell his son of how he was conceived, or should he wove together a more suitable, fabricated version. How would he explain that he could change his shape, his body into anything? Would the child be able to understand the odd fact that the person he had once been, was not connected with his present form.
Perhaps it was for the best, the defeated Vampire thought, that the child never learn of his origins. It was better to believe that one came from a mother, who had nothing; than to be the child of a human-shaped monster.
The vampire had not prayed in a long time, but before going he let out a silence prayer to God, Even if God had abandoned the former-human; even if the child was born to monster; he asked God to look after him.
The Vampire slipped into the night and hurried to his "master's" manor before he was noticed to be missing. Silently wondering and honestly expecting God to once again disappoint him.
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END of PROLOGUE
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AN:
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Preview of the next chapter:
It was like a nightmare. The No-Life King could not believe it. The human, Abraham van Hellsing, had him on the ground and had put a stake through his no longer beating heart.
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