Summary: Margaret a young maid employed by Abraham Van Hellsing gets the shock of her life when she and her fellow Butler, Jessie (Dawson) Dornez are assigned to watch and care for the new prisoner. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if the prisoner wasn't a psychotic, starved and blood thirsty vampire.

Pairings: AlucardxOC, And I'm going to stray far away from Mary Sues and Gary Stus.

Warnings: Language, Slight Torture, Abuse


Sunday Morning

It was Sunday morning, and constantly, Margaret had to remind herself of that fact. Firstly, on Sunday mornings, Dawson never did his share of work. That meant that she had to prepare the huge sunday meal all by herself. Bread, bacon, salad and anything else that would be able to feed Abraham, his family, and all his rich friends, (excluding Mr. Seward). On top of that, half the time the whole lot wasn't even thankful. For instance, either Mina Harker or Mrs. Hellsing would be quick to insult her food.

"She's a little girl, who doesn't know how to cook!" Mina would say. "I deserve better, we deserve better!" And then, on terrible occasions, she'd insult Margaret directly. "She is an unintelligent, Irish girl, not the mention she is a Catholic." Yes, Margaret was aware than many maids lacked anything above a fourth grade education, but she had studied for years before being employed in the Hellsing manor. Afterall, she and Dawson were some of the smartest in their graduated class in Ireland.

But that was just shy of four years ago and things had changed.

Two foreign Irish friends attempting to make a living in London England was harder than expected. Margaret believed that making good first impressions would guarantee longer employment. But as she had expected, Dawson didn't leave his lazy traits behind in Ireland, and he made them known in England.

That morning, as Margaret combed her long red hair in the bathroom she wore a scowl on her face. She observed herself in the mirror, making sure everything was the same. She was still her normal small size, her hair was still curly and red. And of course, her face was pale and freckly.

In her head, she compared herself to her employers. She compared herself to their unmatchable beauty. As usual, doing this tended to anger her.

"Showoffs." She told herself as she tied her hair up in a bun. "Nothing but terrible show offs." She got her glasses from her dresser and placed them on her face. As usual, they magnified her bright green eyes. The rest of her face revealed a very tired young woman. However, that didn't matter to her.

She worked hard for her money, and a few days without sleep didn't bother her.

However, what did bother her was Dawson, especially on Sunday mornings. Heading down to the stables and waking him up became a routine every Sunday Morning. It didn't matter if it was freezing our, or raining.

Margaret left the bathroom and returned to her small quarters where she dressed in her green gown. She then tied on her white apron and placed her drew her long red hair back.

"Well, Margaret Cunningham," She began as she always did. "Time to get to work."


When she arrived in the stables, she was not at all surprised to see Dawson asleep on a comfortable patch of hay. That night it was warm, so it explained why he was outside.

Rolling her eyes, Margaret entered a pen and took a pail of water. She then proceeded to throw it on Dawson so that he woke up in a surprise.

He screamed, squirmed and sat up. Hugging himself, he glared at Margaret.

"P...Peggy!" He exclaimed. "That water is a bit cold, isn't it?"

Placing the pale down, Margaret put her hands on her hips. "And you deserved it you lazy boy. Now get your bottom up and help me with breakfast."

Dawson stood up and stretched. He flipped his medium length wet black hair back and buttoned his vest. "Okay." He said with his blue eyes twinkling. "You've caught me at my own game, so let's go."


On Sunday morning, the kitchen was sure to be crowded with many other maids and butlers scrambling to cook and to get things ready. But today, that crowd was absent, leaving only Margaret and Dawson.

"Odd." Dawson walked into the kitchen and turned on the burners. "Do we have a day off? Is there something we've missed?"

"No." Margaret replied following after him. "We never get off days on Sundays. It's Sunday breakfast…however, things are rather odd." She took some dough from the cupboard. "Ever since the incident with Mrs. Harker, and her husband…things have been different."

"Aye." Dawson replied, itching his hair. "Did we really ever know what happened with that lot. All I'm sure of is that…not really sure."

"She get kidnapped, Abraham had to save her. Though I would've let her die." Margaret spat with distaste. "But I believe it all started with Miss Lucy?"

"Miss Lucy?" Dawson asked. "Poor girl was in love with me you know."

"Poor girl indeed to require such terrible taste." Margaret sneered.

"Oh Peggy, don't be a tease."

And that's usually how their mornings began. More than anything that thrived amongst the maids and the butlers, especially in the kitchen, was gossip.

Which Lord slept with which maid, which maid would be arrested for "adultery"? Yes, these were many things that kept the workhands from their superiors. In the kitchen, was where one could receive all the gossip in the world while in the Dining Room, you'd hear only of harsh politics.

Margaret placed a few dough rolls in the oven and waited. She then retrieved some water and put it on the stove to heat. However, before the kettle sat on the stove, Margaret had a little fun with the water. She placed her hand above the spout and watched as the liquid climbed out and attempted to wrap around her fingers. She had a great amount of fun until Dawson called out to her.

"Margaret. Don't do that." He urged, holding a spoon before him like a dagger.

"What are you, scared?" She teased.

"If anyone sees you do that they'll call you a witch!"

Frowning, Margaret closed her fist and let the water fall back into the tea kettle. Then she placed it on the stove and waited for a little while. "You know it runs in the family, Dawson. And I can't help it."

"We're not in Ireland anymore." Dawson crossed his arms. "You can't just go doing crazy magic things and not expect to get into any trouble! What happens if Mrs. Harker sees you? You know she hates you and she'll do anything to get you sacked."

"It's not like the witch can prove it!" Margaret shouted.

"If she sees you then you will get caught and you will be burned at the stake! And you're the witch Peggy, not Mina!" He retorted with a louder voice.

Margaret prepared herself to say something, but loud steps in the living room caused the two to stop.

"Are they back already?" Margaret whispered.

"It hasn't yet been thirty minutes." He dusted his hands on his vest. "Let's go and see."


The living room, usually a bright place with lavish silk curtains and bright yellow furniture, seemed rather grim today.

Instead of loud and heavy laughter and joyous singing, there was a silent and somber group. By the time Dawson and Margaret had arrived, they immediately felt the visible shift in emotion. They stood there in the doorway and stared. With their mouths open wide with surprise, they shared nervous glances before assuming their duties.

Margaret, before she spoke looked at her Master, Abraham Van Hellsing. In his arms, he held what seemed like a person cloaked in thick crimson blood. She couldn't really make out a face, but she could see long black hair. Long black…bloody hair. Accompanying her master, she saw Jonathan Harker which made her sneer. She then saw, John Seward who seemed more worried than usual. All three men circled Abraham and the mangled person he carried. However, no one said a word. No one except Margaret.

"M…Master." She spoke. "You are back so soon_"

"You had the day off. I wanted to tell both you and Dawson but you had retired early."

"But breakfast_"

"We have decided not to eat here today." Abraham replied.

"Oh." Margaret sounded taken back.

"Your cooking is sublime; you just need a day off." He then turned to Dawson. "And I suppose that you could…use a day off as well."

"Yes sir!" Dawson smiled and grabbed Margaret's arm. "Come Peggy, I suppose a trip to the library would do us well today."

"Yes Dawson." Margaret let herself be pulled out of the Dining room. However, her bright green eyes stayed glued to the disheveled creature in Abraham's arms. For a second, she was captivated as she attempted to see eyes through the thick locks of black hair. Then, in a split second, she saw something that had stayed with her for many nights after words. Glowing crimson eyes stared back at her and had her paralyzed in fear.

Margaret… She heard a deep voice in her head. What a beautiful name.

"Peggy…" She heard Dawson say as he tried to pull her, but she seemed to be in a trance.

You see me, don't you? Margaret…I can sense you see me, and I can sense you fear me! And you should.

"Margaret." Dawson's voice was sterner now as he pulled harder.

Oh, you're just shaking inside aren't you?

"Margaret!" This was Abraham's strong voice. "Are you okay?"

"What?" She asked, stepping back into reality.

"Did you look into its eyes?"

"I…"

"Let's go." Dawson said. "We will see you tomorrow."

And before she knew it, the two were running. Still, she couldn't help herself from looking back and she could've sworn she heard a dark deep chuckle.


For those of the lower class, there were "codes" that the upper class didn't know. The code for the bar or club was "library". It worked to their advantage greatly because a woman Margaret's age and of Margaret's class was caught drinking, she'd be dismissed quickly. Things were safer for her however, since Dawson stayed protectively by her side. Still, it was also safe to be cautious.

"Creature of the Underworld." Dawson yelled as the two walked down a very crowded alley.

"Oh Dawson, don't make a fuss." Margaret urged as she tied her bonnet tighter over her head. "And don't draw a crowd either. You don't want everyone to know where we are going. Some of Mina's spies could be here."

"Mina's spies. Oh love, listen to yourself." Dawson led her into a large ware house. "Live a little bit. We come here once a month and you always have your guard up. All we're getting is a quick drink."

"No…" As the stepped into the club, Margaret fanned some smoke away from her face. "You're getting a quick drink. I think I may walk around town a bit. I could really use some more books."

"You kill joy Peggy." Dawson handed his hat to a boy who waited at the door, most likely a prostitute. "I'll be in here, if you need me."


Even during the witching hour, the Library was still open. Margaret didn't hesitate to open the door and rush in.

"Sir!" She yelled, nearly tripping over the books on the floor. "I have something grand to tell you!" And like always, a young librarian rushed over to Margaret, except this time it was a girl. A very young girl, no older than Margaret.

"Miss Cunningham." She said. "Father is not here tonight; in fact his job requires him to be somewhere else." The girl twirled her blond hair in her fingers and held her candle up to Margaret's freckled face. "What brings you here Miss Cunningham?"

"Well, I've had a strange encounter. Eileen." She whispered. "Are we alone?"

"Yes, we are. Come sit with me." The two just sat on the floor with the candle in between them, but Margaret began her story. She started from the beginning of the day all the way to when she saw the glowing eyes and heard the voice in her head.

"I'm sure it was that…thing…talking to me!" She yelled. "But what was it?"

"He, Miss Cunningham, he." Eileen pulled her curls again. "And well, my father would be able to analyze what he was. But from what you've told me…it sounds like you encounter a vampire."

"Vampire? Why would he make contact with me?"

"Because perhaps, you come from a long line of magic…and you were the youngest female there at the time." Eileen leaned over the candle light and tugged Margaret's hair. "On top of that you are beautiful. A pale white face with freckles. Long curly red hair and bright green eyes."

"Eileen, you carry much more beauty than I do."

"But you are unique. No one here has red hair like you!"

"Silly girl, I'm from Ireland, of course no one else does."

"But you have other girls jealous of your looks. Mina Harker, for one_" "Eileen!"

"It's true!" And then the two girls giggled for a while until Margaret stood.

"I have to go, but thank you for having me tonight. When I get more information, I'll return."


The next morning, when Margaret and a sober Dawson returned to the house, things were much livelier. The maids and butlers that had been absent the morning before seemed to be running around the place carrying water, towels and anything of the sort. Either Mina, who was resting in the Hellsing Manor after her ordeal, or Mrs. Hellsing were complaining about the smallest things.

That morning, neither Margaret nor Dawson wanted to have anything to do with those ladies. They only hurried into the kitchen where they saw their crew waiting for them.

"Alright you lot," Margaret banged to skillets together to silence them all. "Yesterday we all took a well needed break but today, the meal needs to be grand so let's get cooking. We'll need about…two Cornish hens, perhaps a turkey will do just fine."

"Salad." An older maid yelled.

"Yes Salad, of course I didn't forget. So, two Cornish hens, a turkey, we need wine juice and salad…rolls, buttery rolls. Mashed potatoes…" Margaret went on and on as maids rushed to get the food items.

Margaret, pleased with her duties left the kitchen and made her way outside to the barn where regretfully, she grabbed the small white hens.

"Sorry." She said as she walked them to the slaughter house. "But we need to eat too." After she performed the terrible deed, she placed the dead animals into the sack she carried with her. The turkey was next but it wasn't willing to give up so easily. It fought for the right to survive so much that it gave Margaret a gash on her shoulder.

"You dumb bird!" She let it run free. "Until the next time we meet."


As if her painful ordeal outside wasn't bad enough, she found herself bumping into none other than Mina Harker. The woman was still dressed in her night gown and her hair was frizzy. She had not yet cleaned herself, but Margaret couldn't focus on her at the moment.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Harker." Margaret side stepped her.

"Now you stay here, you wretched girl. I believe you owe me an apology for not waking me this morning like a made is supposed to."

"My lady, if I may, I am not entitled to you. I am a scullery maid and therefore I work in the kitchen and clean the house. I am not a handmaid, unless my master instructs me to be so."

"What a smart talk, for a little teenage girl." Mina crossed her arms.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Harker." Margaret shoved past her.

"Margaret dear. I do advise you to watch yourself or you may end up in the dungeon with our, guest." She chuckled a bit, but as usual Margaret paid her no mind. She only paid attention to the task at hand, and that was creating a decent breakfast.

"Peggy!" Dawson yelled as she hurried into the kitchen. "You're a bloody mess, literally."

"I know, I have no time to explain. We don't have a turkey but we've got hens."

"Not to worry ma'am." A young made the stove said. "We retrieved a turkey earlier."

"Oh…"


Within two hours, a lavish meal was successfully born. Glazed hens and turkey sat on large platters cushioned by large leaves. Rolls of fluffy buttery bread sat there smoking and untouched. Thick potatoes coated in butter were steamed to success. On the table cloth, chilled cups of glass and or wine stood there.

The master's and the mistress' sat at the table as well as their children. They all sat there, talking quietly as Dawson, Margaret and other servants set the table and filled their plates. When dinner was finally ready to eat, Abraham prepared everyone for prayer.

"Bow your heads." He kindly said.

As he began the prayer, both Dawson and Margaret did the traditional Sign of the Cross. Mina chuckled a bit, but the two paid her no mind.

The prayer was long as usual, and growling stomachs could be heard all around the table, still Hellsing didn't slow down his speed. However, when he finished, every single person began to eat in the most civilized but fast way. The servants stood idle as usual.

"Dawson." Abraham's young daughter called. "May you refill my glass?"

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, taking her glass and holding on to her hand longer than she should've. The two shared a kind smile before he left her. Margaret rolled her eyes at this, and let a smile slip.

She stared as Abraham, his wife and his four children feasted. She then glanced over to the Harker's who seemed more than happy. She didn't pay any mind to it, she only paid attention to the two young love birds gossiping over holding a wine glass.

"Show off." She muttered quietly to herself.

"What was that, Margaret?" Mina had asked loudly, causing everyone to look. "I heard you say something."

"It was only meant for my ears, and God's my lady." Margaret smiled. "Can I get you anything, my Lady?"

"No, but thank you Miss Margaret. However I would like a special meal made for myself, perhaps something sweet."

"Yes_"

"You see, a celebration is to come for my husband and I are expecting a child." And in unison there were claps from everyone except Margaret.

"Congratulations." She sneered. "I will make you something later on tonight and bring it up when I have the time. But for now you should not worry about yourself and allow me to tend to the tasks of others."

There was a shifting silence after Margaret said that. She had left Mina speechless for just a few seconds before she stood.

"Excuse me Margaret, but do you know whom you are talking too?"

"Yes I do!" Margaret replied. "A woman who deserves to be talked to the way she acts. Now if you'll excuse_" "Hold on a second you wretched girl." Mina stood from her seat and stormed over to Margaret. "I expect an apology."

"And you will receive one when you deserve it, as you do not now."

"Peggy." Dawson had stepped in between the two. "Calm down_" "Oh you shut up! You Irish trash! Both of you are nothing but foreign trash!" She looked around at everyone, hoping to be agreed with. When no one said anything, she continue on. "If it weren't for Abraham, well you two would've been poor street prostitutes. I wouldn't be surprised if you already are_"

"Mina." Abraham had finally intervened. "Please, watch yourself."

There was a strong silence before Mina chuckled. "Okay." The whole family laughed with bright smiles on their face. However both Margaret and Dawson bore frowns.

"Oh lighten up you two." Mina coaxed. "And please don't forget, my evening dessert."


"Ugh!" Dinner was over, leaving the servants to clean. "I can't stand that woman."
"No one can Ms. Margaret." A young butler said as he wiped the table. "But if you ask me, I'd say she's jealous of you."

"Of me? She's rich, has all the money she wants and above all she's beautiful." Margaret began to wash dishes. "Beautiful enough for someone to want to kidnap her."

"You hold much more beauty that she does." The Butler turned to look at Dawson who sat in the corner, scowling.

"What's wrong with you?" Margaret asked. "What, did you let Mina get to you?"
"No." He lied. "Not at all..."

Rolling her eyes, Margaret walked over to him and rubbed his hair. "Don't let her get to you, please." He remained silent for a while with his eyes closed. Heaving a large breath of air, he spoke.

"I hate when she talks like that. In fact I hate all of them." He finally stood up and walked to the cupboard, searching for the broom. When he returned he began to sweep. "They're all materialistic, snobs."

"You seem a little sweet however, on_"

"Don't say it. She's just like Lucy...a rich liar. Listen, I don't want to talk about this okay. Just let me think okay." Dawson began to sweep so harshly until he resorted to beating the ground with the broom in anger. "That stupid woman doesn't know a thing about us!"

"Sir!" The small butler urged. "You're getting dust everywhere."

"Sorry..." He leaned the broom against the wall and sighed. "You're right...I was letting her get to me."

"And I told you not to. Now, let us get that dessert prepared." Margaret turned to the small butler. "Can you manage while we are in the kitchen?"

"Yes Ms. Margaret." He smiled.


Before the two had even discussed it, they were already planning "revenge" on Mina for her outburst that night.

"Hot peppers." Margaret whispered.

"And some Paprika." Dawson said, pouring powder into the dark mix.

"And let us not forget the sugar...the hmm...I've never used this before." Margaret held a foreign substance in her hand. "Shall we try?"

"Don't mind if we," Dawson took the ingredient from her and added it in their mix. "Do!"


As the two walked to Mina's room, they hid their laughter. They knew that what they had done was, bad but not terrible. After all, she deserved it for the way she treated them, for the way she treated all servants.

So the two entered her room and watched her take the first bite of the "cake", they had made for her, they'd never felt happier.


"I should sack the two of you." Abraham said the next morning as they stood before him in his office. "I really should, what you two did...it was shameful and above all, rude. I expected better, much better."

Both Dawson and Margaret held their breaths, waiting for Abraham to breathe the final words of dismissal.

"But, I understand why you two did it."

"You do?" The two asked in unison.

"Yes, and I could see myself doing something to that degree if I had been in your shoes." He finally looked up at them, from behind his mounds of paper work. "But nevertheless_"

"I understand sir." Margret spoke up and she sounded sad. "We'll pack our stuff up soon."

"And will you move back to Ireland?" Abraham smirked for a second. "The place where your lives fell apart."

Dawson and Margaret shared looks receiving a chuckle from Abraham. "I have a job for you, the two of you. That is, if you wish to take it."

"Yes sir!" Dawson sounded more exited than normal and Margaret understood why.

"What is it you'd like us to do sir?"

Abraham rustled for something in his desk. About a minute passed and he pulled out a bowl and a large red wine bottle. He then beckoned for both Margaret and Dawson to come to him.

"Here." He quietly said, placing the bowl in Dawson's hand and the wine bottle in Margaret's.

"Go down to the basement and give our guest, a bit of wine to drink."

"That's it?" Dawson asked. "That's all we need to do?"

"Every day from now on. In the morning, middle of the day and at night." Abraham smirked. "Can you manage that?"

"Yes sir, thank you!" Both servants yelled and happily headed towards the door.

"And one more thing." Abraham advised before they left the room. "Please shut the basement door behind you."


Margaret had never been down to the "basement", which was actually the dungeon, Dawson had told her.

She realized that when she entered, there was absolutely no light once the door was shut. She had trouble seeing where she was going, so she had to rely on her touch and Dawson.

"I've been down here before." Dawson told her as they walked down a huge fleet of steps. "Just hold on to me."

She didn't say anything, she only held on to him and continued her small journey in silence.

With every step she took, Margaret felt a void forming in the pit of her stomach. As the void grew, she felt nothing but hopelessness and something told her turn around and run.

You're going to be sacked. She told herself. If you chicken out.

The two had finally reached the bottom of the dungeons. There was nothing there but the cracked ground and walls. Holding the bottle in her hand, Margaret began to shake a bit.

"Hello!" Dawson cried out unexpectedly, causing Margaret to scream and nearly drop the bottle. "Sorry!"

"It's fine..." She replied. "I'm just a little...scared...This place is_"

"Vacant."

The two heard the deep and eerie voice all to well.

Sharing worried glances, they looked before them and saw something hunched in the far right corner. Looking a bit harder, the two came to realize that this was a person, however it was hard to tell.

There was a mess of long, black tangled black hair that obscured the person's image. However, whatever it was...it did not look welcoming.

"Are you going to bring that to me?" It pointed it's long finger at Margaret. "That blood?" It's voice echoed through the prison, it's walls and the thick air.

"Umm..." Both Margaret and Dawson spoke.

"The things in your hands, you idiots!" It yelled louder than before.

They stood there, shaking silently, not moving an inch.

"Fine." It said angrily.

It stood and it was tall. He was tall, taller than Margaret or Dawson thought. He towered above both of them.

His face was pale and white, his hair was long and black, but that wasn't what worried them the most.

When he opened his eyes, they lit up.

They were an eerie red, a demonic red.

"The blood!" He spoke in a hiss, revealing his sharp and long teeth.

By this time, Dawson had dropped the bowl and had quickly excused himself from the dungeons. Now, he left Margaret there, shaking like a small animal as this strange man approached her.

"Here!" Margaret threw the bottle at him and attempted to run, however he grabbed her by her hair.

"Red..." He hissed in her ear as she squirmed and attempted to break free. "It's my favorite color. I think we'll be great friends." And with that, he let her go.

Without even looking back, she ran faster that she ever had before.


I hope you like it! Please tell me what you think.

And, I down own Hellsing, only my two characters. And please forgive me, but I didn't really read over this chapter.