So…wazzup? I know I should be working on my Scrap fic, or my Higurashi story, or my Soul Eater story, or my Hetalia story, but I promised that I would post this and, well, I just sorta felt like it. For those of you who wonder, a few months ago ninjadaleburg posted a story about her having writer's block for an absolutely fantanbulous idea, and me being me, I immediately got inspired to write yet another story that won't ever earn me money. Sooo, any kudos and credit goes first to ninejadaleburg, because I'm simply taking their idea and running with it. Quite literally. That being said, this is probably the AU-est AU I've ever written (*cough* because I've written so many *cough*), so don't expect to immediately recognize anyone.

Pairings:

Alucard/Integra (maybe), Enrico/Integra (one-sided if at all), Alucard/Seras (probably not), and most likely nothing else.

Rating:

T for swearing (because it'll happen sooner or later), T for bloodshed (And you didn't see this coming because…?), and T for any other offensive, blasphemous, or shocking things I manage to work in before I get to the final chapter.

Notes before I start:

Most of this will be set in the Dracula timeline, but neither Mina nor Lucy will be showing up. Also, a lot of characters will be going through a species change, but I don't feel the need for a gender-swap…yet. There will be some supporting OCs scattered hither and yon as well.

April 16, 2015

3rd Person POV:

The storm boiled outside the glass windows of the estate. Lightning flashed and crashed as a counterpoint to the howling winds, which drove buckets of rain and hail against the ancient, sturdy walls of the well-appointed manor. Indoors, the gloomy mood of the grey-black clouds was reflected imperfectly in the lack of man and beast alike. Maids and manservants had fled to their respective cubbyholes, canoodling or reading as their inter-household relationships required. The soldiers were either on leave or huddled, soggy messes that patrolled the grounds and perimeter.

Inside the office which had seen generations of her kind, a lone woman flipped through the tattered, dog-eared pages of a book with leisurely grace. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the spidery, endless letters patiently, her posture and bearing curiously stiff and upright, as if by habit. The storm may boom and crack all it liked, but she was safe within the hallowed walls of her mansion, and wished to relax in the rare moment of peace she was currently afforded. The flames in the fireplace flickered a little and dimmed as the shadows in the corners of the room suddenly deepened and opened crimson-red eyes, slowly drawing together to form the shape of a human –or human seeming– body. The woman in her armchair did not react to this unearthly display, although by the way the temperature of the room abruptly dropped, she surely must have noticed its presence.

The riding boots upon the shadowy figure's feet made no sound against the cold marble floor as they advanced upon the seated woman, as if a shadow in a dream, and ice-cold fingers, wrapped in white silk and red pentagrams, reached out for the neck.

"You are up quite late, milady." they observed, trailing the deathly touch of their icy fingers down the woman's neck. "Reading your family history, again?"

The blonde in the chair looked up. "I don't have to justify myself to you." she observed dryly. "And a grown woman may stay up as late as she wishes."

A bone white smile flashed itself across the darkness of the figure's shadowy face. "Too true, milady." they agreed silkily, and subtly glowing red eyes moved to the book's cover, and narrowed with dislike. "At least you could have the good taste to read a true account of your family history." they noted icily, and the woman in the chair smiled, placing the book on the nearby nightstand. The gold-embossed word "Dracula" gleamed in the ever-dimmer light of the flames, suppressed by the figure beside her. She folded her legs, looking up at the towering, shadow-shrouded figure above her.

"Still bitter, vampire?" she asked with a faint smirk, her sapphire eyes gleaming behind the lenses of her glasses. The figure, now identified, swayed over to the window, looking out at the lightning and thunderous crashing across the grounds, and was silent for a while.

"Not bitter, milady. Just peeved." they finally said, folding arms covered in an expensive Italian suit. "Your great-grandfather changed many things, and that was before he handed his notes to that idiot Stoker."

Thunder boomed as a fork of lightning raced across the sky just above the estate, suddenly illuminating the room. The brief flash of brightness glinted off the vampire's long hair, cascading in a golden sheet to her ribs, and eyes darker than the deepest pits of hell. One fang peeked out over her lip as she grinned ferally.

"Beautiful night, isn't it, milady?"

"As a human, I think a bit differently, Integra."

1898
London, England:

When most noblemen went for a walk, they didn't think. They just walked. Perhaps they discussed things with a comrade, or maybe mused over their conquests of the day, but by and large, most noblemen went for a walk because they felt the need to stretch their legs, and not to mull over deep philosophical questions.

That, Alucard thought as he trudged through the grounds of his estate, was a very unfair thing. What made it even more unfair was the subject of his deep philosophical question, namely; why did God hate him so much, if He existed at all? Most nobles went for a walk for casual exercise. Most nobles walked out and came back in the same state of dress that they went out with. Most nobles got pleasure from their walks.

He dragged in a deep sigh of remorse and self-pity through his nose, closing his eyes wearily.

Of course, most nobles were not vampire hunters as well.

When Alucard went out for a walk, it was usually because Her Majesty or one of her advisors had found out about a vampire slaughtering an entire township and needed him to stop it before the countryside was overrun. When Alucard was sent out on one of his "walks", he usually came back gore-spattered, his suit in bloody shreds, sometimes cut and bruised, liberally marked with the blackish blood of ghouls and the crimson of vampires and their human victims. When Alucard came back from his walks, in was usually in a state of benumbed exhaustion both mental and physical, and so dog-tired he almost didn't know where he was going.

Thud.

Alucard's eyebrow's twitched slightly in irritation. He briefly debated whether or not swearing would be worth the effort, but decided that he needed to save most of his energy for rising off the front-door step. He felt at least two of the wounds in his back reopen (ghoul with a pitchfork, how original) as he shifted weakly in an attempt to rise, and began rethinking his decision not to swear. He heard the door creak open and sighed, his cheekbone resting uncomfortably against the corner of the second step. "Not one word, Walter." he muttered hoarsely, and heard his oldest retainer cough politely, hiding a snicker. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir." he said smoothly, grabbing his employer and oldest friend under the arms and dragging him into the house.

Alucard deemed it safe to relax, for a time at least, as he was hauled onto a cot and unceremoniously surveyed. "You know my lord, it would be a great deal easier for you if you let some of Her Majesty's soldiers take care of the ghouls, at least." Walter observed dispassionately from above him, and one corner of Alucard's lips twitched. "That would just make more work for me; they'd be eaten alive before they walked two steps." he murmured, and opened his hazel eyes to view his butler and friend with a weary grin. "Besides, I like taking care of things myself."

A roll of bandages hit him in the chest. "If you like taking care of things so much, start cleaning yourself up and leave me to my duties." Walter replied, a disparaging glimmer in his steel-grey eyes. Alucard smirked back, starting to unbutton what was left of his shirt. He knew Walter would stay nearby, in case his lord and master truly did need help, but most of his treatment would be rendered by himself, and no other. He watched through narrowed eyes as Walter turned to give an order to a dallying maid in the entrance hall, sending her off with a squeal. He still didn't quite have the hang of the English language, at least not the smooth, flowing cadence that was Walter, his gift as a native Englishman.

Alucard, on the other hand, was from a long line of minor Romanian nobility, all of whom were quite aware of the fact that the many disappearances and deaths out in the world were not all due to the living. He'd come to England about three years ago, following an especially powerful vampire than had taken him six weeks and a two-day battle to defeat, the memory of which that still caused him to wince in pain. He had been witnessed, somehow, by English Queen or one of her many guard dogs, and they had accosted him as he was about to board the ship back home and practically begged him to stay in England. To his mild surprise, the so-proper English had regulated vampires and the like to the back of their minds as things that didn't exist decades ago.

That, to a so-called "rustic" like him, was stupidity in its highest form. "There's no such thing as monsters, vampires don't exist, ghouls are figments of your imagination". He was sure that there were words for how damned bloody idiotic that was in English, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember any of them. That, and Walter probably refused to utter them in his presence for fear of his notoriously foul-mouthed master repeating them later. Alucard had no shame in admitting the fact he used colorful language when startled, angry, tired, upset, or emotionally charged in any way, but apparently in England, it just wasn't done. He grunted as he tied the last of the bandages, and sucked in another deep breath, lying back against the cot.

He was just going to lay here until he got his second wind, and then write his report to the bloody English nobles.

5.49 PM, USA Central Time