"Nothing has worked!" John Seward tore at his hair screaming in anguish as he staggered to a halt in Abraham's secluded study. He had been pacing back and forth as Abraham discussed their continued failure to kill Count Dracula. Hellsing had mentioned another option, but Seward had succumbed to his desolation before he could finish. The young man was pale, and Hellsing had noticed this, but now as the man leaned heavily against the wall, hunched and sobbing in frustration, Abraham felt chills crawl under his skin, burrowing into his heart like a swarm of maggots crawling within the flesh of an apple. He shivered at the sight and clutched his shirt, feeling for the pulse in his erratic heart, before he went to John, holding his shoulders. He leaned over the man and spoke gently, reassuring him that they would avenge Lucy and that they would prevent the monster from ever hurting anyone else. They had already captured the beast, it was only a matter of time until they killed it. John began to shake his head, neglected locks of hair waving before his face. "No." he murmured, still shaking his head. Then he seemed to lose his strength and his head struck the wall. His eyes stared at nothing, dull and lifeless in the dimmed lighting. Everything in the room was cast in a grey-blue shadow as the man whispered. "He is the Devil…we cannot kill him…we cannot…" his voice cracked as his lips quivered and lines of tears ran down his face. He shut his eyes and trembled, hiding his face in the wall as Abraham was forced to help support John so that he would not collapse to the floor.

"I will put him in Hell, John." Abraham spoke suddenly, his voice strong and heated with hatred as he looked at his suffering friend. "I will burn him… until there is nothing left. He cannot regenerate from ash…" John coughed on a sob and Abraham's eyes dulled as well. He continued after a moment. "And if I cannot kill him…I will create Hell here for him. I will make him plead for death to come, John. I will have this demon suffer."

*~*~::...+..::~*~*

It was like a furnace. A huge metal furnace that had yet to be lit. But it was not empty. The No-Life-King stood in the middle of this hallow, lightless chamber, his eyes closed as his hair did not move in the dead air. He could smell the chemicals, the fuel that lay on the floor like a shallow pond. There were mountains of coal piled around him, encasing him…crushing him…or they would have…if he had been human. Silver spikes impaled his forearms, holding them together before him. A silver thread burned his gums, sowing his jaws together as more wiring stitched his lips shut. A silver cross shaped sword pierced through his heart, the end was buried in the coal behind him. And thick nails composed of blessed silver tacked his feet to the floor, where they had been welded to ensure that they would not be pulled out. Smoke from the vampire's burning flesh filled the chamber.

Count Dracula felt nothing except disappointment. He wished that they had used timber instead of coal. He liked the smell of trees, and the myriad of scents that seeped into them. No. All he could smell were the chemicals…the things that were slowly destroying this planet.

There was a resounding click that echoed in the space of an eternity within a microsecond…then the chamber burst into flames as bright as the sun and as hot as sin.

The demon's eyes opened to see the gold and orange…the blue and purple…all of the colors given off by the different burning fuels. He watched until his eyes melted from the heat, dribbling down his face from his empty sockets. His long black mane had been the first thing to catch the caresses from Hell. Then it had been the rags he wore. All of which cooked his flesh and heated the metal that cut into his skin… But he was silent against the roaring of the hungry flames consuming his body, and he never moved, or shifted a single muscle.

Abraham Van Hellsing glared at the metal monstrosity he had designed and built with funding from the English crown, as men readied to pour more coal into it in an hour or so. His features were marred by a set scowl as his eyes sparked with the flames he could only imagine in his mind…devouring the monster within the furnace. He left as the day progressed, to return several days later to see to the removal of the mountains of soot that now occupied the chamber…and hopefully nothing else.

He watched as expansive doors slid to either side and teams of men shoveled the ash that cascaded out of the opening into wheelbarrows that would be moved off site to be properly discarded. A few hours went by as Hellsing left to attend to other duties before returning in time to watch as the men reached the area where the demon had been nailed down.

The piercing shriek of fear that was followed by other yells and the evacuation of some of the men, made Abraham shudder and hang his head in despair. Slow, heavy steps brought him to the metal chamber, keeping his eyes towards the floor as he entered. When he did look up, he was greeted by a welcomed vision of gore and obvious horror.

The vampire was a blackened skeleton with remnants of stubborn flesh and organs fused to his bones or hanging from them like black, tattered cloth. He looked like a corpse, but if he had been dead, he would have dispersed into the rest of the ash in the chamber, and they would not have found anything other than hardened, shapeless silver when they cleared out the soot. The decimated state made Hellsing's spirits rise. Almost. They were close, very close now. So close in fact, that Abraham was tempted to decapitate the creature where it stood to see if it would crumble, but he refrained, knowing how desperate that would make him appear. He would return the beast to his dungeon, and kill it there.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"Count? Can you hear me?" Abraham wore a cruel smile as he looked at the constricted ruin of a carcass. Blood oozed like puss from the burns in some places, attempting to rebuild the creature's body, reassuring those who were doubtful that the vampire was still undead. The demon had no way of responding at the moment, his body hardened and immovable. The man could leave the beast this way, to rot in this shell for all of eternity, but John wanted this murderer, this monster, to die. For this, Hellsing was standing in this forsaken cell, grasping his blessed silver sword in one hand as the other rested on the butt of a short stake attached to his belt. He was attempting to taunt the demon in order to prolong the moment. The moment of the monster's death which had been avoided for centuries. He, Abraham Van Hellsing, was going to vanquish this monster, just as all men are inclined to do when they come across such a creature, whether it wears a human mask and is known to be a demon by all of Heaven and Hell, or not. He approached the form slowly, eying the dripping and moving blood that gave the impression that the vampire was made of thawing black ice.

Both hands came to the blade as Abraham bent his knees, settling into a sturdy stance to commence the devil's execution. A long sigh entered the cell from Abraham's lips. Then his eyes burst with light and he lunged forward, swinging the blade through the air. The silver sliced through the neck and the free head went into the air, but Hellsing was caught by surprise when a fountain of crimson blood spewed from the wound, coating him in red. Wide blue eyes stared at the headless neck as waterfalls of blood ran down the corpse, as if the body had been hallow…filled only with liquid blood…even in the marrow of the undead bones.

Silence fell upon the man as the body did not fall as a pillar of just, but remained as a pillar of eternal sin…like a biblical pillar of ageless salt that stood to watch the world forever, never knowing peace or death. Abraham, in his last mounting passion of determination, thrust his sword into the demon's heart, then threw aside the blade. As it rung against the stones, he gasped the wooden stake in his hands and forced it into the healing hole with a roar. He pushed the stake deeper into the body, squelching blood dotting his hands and chest as he hissed with effort. A final sinking push was given, lodging the wood through the chest where its point burst out the back, and Hellsing stepped back with a heavy gasp for air he had forgotten to breathe.

He panted, watching and waiting for the vampire to crumble. Come on now. What more can be done? Shall I section his body and toss it into the ocean? But then how will I know of his state? If he is dead or not?

His eyes deadened with his thoughts as the blood moved about the vampire, covering its entire body…it began to whiten…into flesh. The demon was reforming…slowly. But without much blood or strength, and cut off from magic by his bondage, the demon did not waste his effort on creating clothes, or even the rags from before. And the skin was not perfect. It was scarred, rough with wounds that could not close fully, layers of skin missing…red and white blotches, lined with black, charred flesh. The Count was painful to look at. More so, when Abraham observed the tremors that ran from the creature's reformed head and neck, down its bare legs. The hair grew back only to the shoulders, not reaching the waist length of his prior mane.

Hellsing gazed at the eyes that watched the stone floor, finding the agony that the Count did not voice. The demon was in pain. Finally, the man knew that it did in fact feel. The man glowered at the face now.

"Welcome back, Count. Did you enjoy escaping death once again?" He snarled, whipping away to take up his abandoned sword. The chains that held Dracula against the wall clinked together as the demon continued to shake. "You will never speak, will you?" Abraham hissed at the floor, sliding his sword into its sheathe at his side. "Stubborn beast…why won't you die?" He whispered to himself, but soon felt the weight of eyes on his back. He faced the demon, to see it hanging, limp in the chains, its eyes looking up as his neck did not have the strength to hold up his head. "Feh."

Abraham glared at the eyes after making the sound of disgust. "Whether or not I can kill you, you will taste Hell, Count. Mark my words. Here or beyond, you are already in Hell." The eyes lingered on the man for a moment longer, and then closed. Abraham stepped forward, beginning to unsheathe his sword once more. "Ready yourself, demon…this blade has been sharpened and now hungers for your blood like you have hungered and taken the blood of so many innocents…face judgment..." He paused to quote a verse from Revelation, poising the blade before the demon's brow. "'What is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.' I will prove that the word of God is true to all."

"' All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of the grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: But the word of the Lord endureth for ever.'"

The kin verse revisited the worn creature as it felt the silver blade bury itself in his organ of thought. This was the verse from his own time, so it was different than the more current one this man had quoted before. He must prefer Revelation to the other books…

The beast did not speak as the sword was wrenched from his skull, followed by a discharge of blood. The wound did not heal before the blade returned, stabbing a new hole into his head, then one in his neck followed by a slash that severed it. The demon didn't attempt to heal any of these wounds, and his head lay, forgotten, against the stone floor. Crimson eyes opened to observe the stretching sea of grey before they closed again.

The grey sea was soon painted red.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Anyone who wore a Hellsing crest could enter the chamber and do as they wished with the monster. Sometimes they came in groups and made a sport out of who could shoot a bolt from a crossbow closest to the creature's heart. But now, a single man had finished shooting several bolts into the vampire's head. Chains around its neck held the head in place as the man reclaimed his last bolt. As the hole healed, he watched with cold loathing in his eyes. He spat on the stolid face before leaving.

The demon remained unchanged, its eyes closed and its features empty, as time progressed. Hellsing entered and walked up to the figure. The red eyes revealed themselves for a moment, reminding the man that he was conscious and not yet dead, then they closed. Hellsing gazed at the face, hardly finding it human for its deathly pallor, and his eyes stopped on the dirtied cheek. Drying saliva marked it.

Distaste for such a thing, and recalling the minor respect that was owed to the past king, he took out his handkerchief and wiped it off. His hand was not gentle, and his force pushed the head into the uneven stones of the wall as he scrubbed away the filth. Red eyes eased open into lidded slits that watched the hand without telltale signs of thought, but it bothered Abraham and he quickened so he could remove his hand and replace the wooden stake that occupied the demon's chest. The current stake was rotting away, swollen with the vampire's blood.

The man folded and put away his handkerchief and then pulled out the stake. Long shards were left behind, so the man held onto the spongy wood, pressing it against the bare chest as he dug out the remaining pieces, glancing up once to find that the eyes were closed. He finished, inserting the new stake as well, and Abraham lingered, watching the Count's face. After seconds passed, crimson responded to the stare, both beings seeing one another. The red disappeared and Hellsing left the cell.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

A lone man stood in the middle of the stone cell. His gaze never left the demon's face. Eventually, Dracula looked at the man. He watched the human for a while, then shut his eyes. He felt the mortal stand before him now, and the hate filled eyes ran over dead features. John Seward said nothing to the vampire.

A hand clasped the jaw, squeezing it to gain the beast's attention. "Look at me." John whispered. He did it again, trying to shake the constricted head. The demon opened its eyes and read the hatred and anguish in the man's face, then closed them. Seward hissed, his short nails digging into the pale skin, only managing to dent it. "LOOK AT ME!"

Count Dracula did not respond at first, waiting for the echo to die away. His eyes peered at the man again, seeing his body move with his heavy breathing which was becoming increasingly more abnormal. He closed his eyes, and did not open them again when the man shouted for him to do so, over and over again, his voice building like thunder in the chamber.

I see you John Seward. There is nothing unique…or new in your face. I have seen countless others worse off than you. You, who are so close to revenge, but are barred from it as I fail to die…

The vampire did nothing as the shouts became ranting screams and time slipped by. He might have been able to snap at the man, if not bite him, but Dracula found no motivation to do so. He listened to the screams.

Nothing new…at all.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

A familiar group stood in the cell, accompanied by Abraham, as they stopped to view the spectacle of the chained king who had nails through his arms, fists, neck, and feet. A smaller presence was held by another, and it sucked on its fist, in awe.

Abraham had been speaking, but now a pause left the air empty and the cell without sound. The fist left the mouth.

"Mommy…is that a dead person?"

The Harkers stiffened. Abraham didn't look at the boy for more than a second before turning his gaze to the demon that had been covered for Madam Mina's modesty. Mina kissed the child, hugging it to herself. She almost spoke when the boy's eyes widened and he pointed at the chained being. "He's alive!" Seeing the red eyes that watched the child, Mina stepped back while the boy gasped and hid his face in her shoulder. The crimson orbs flicked up to the woman's features, shifted over to Jonathon Harker, and then glanced over Abraham Van Hellsing before closing.

The boy looked at the vampire anxiously, speaking while the adults were mute. "Was he just sleeping, Mommy?"

Mina shook her head, rubbing her forehead into the child's hair. She kissed it before turning to leave. Jonathon remained after the door was closed, staring at the face.

"Will you keep him like this for ever, Van Hellsing?" His eyes reflected the form, and the man bit his lips.

"Until he dies…that is all I can do." Abraham spoke as he sighed, also watching the vampire. It looked like a corpse…the child had been right to make that connection. It sent shivers down his spine every time those eyes opened…and the knowledge that this feeling creature was isolated and chained down here, often interfered with his peace of mind. It felt like cruelty…but the demon deserved it, so the man left it in the cell, soon leaving with Jonathon Harker. It was for the better, he mused, that their child was being raised with the awareness of monsters…because they were going to be around for a long time to come.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Another silver bolt pierced into the demon's chest, puncturing his left lung. Applause rang out in the cell, coming from the boisterous group of men. They shot another and chided at the shooter when the bolt lodged into a shoulder blade with a crunch.

"It's because of an aim like that….that we lost so many men last week."

The abrupt mention of tragedy shattered the other hunters' smiles, and many looked away into the shadows, manipulated by guilt.

"This is serious now. Every shot should go through these demon's hearts."

There were nods. The speaker was warmed by a spark of rage and he leveled his crossbow at Dracula's chest and fired, hitting the vampire's right lung. He cursed and lowered the weapon as someone else prepared to shoot.

"Wasn't that vampire, last time…a real monster, though?" Another man spoke up just before it was his turn to shoot. He squinted at his target. "It could turn into a beast? A beast with fur, right? Almost like a shaggy bear, with a dog's face." He shot, landing a shaft in the vampire's gut.

"Then it wasn't a vampire."

Blood dripped from the wound, some of it touching the vampire's lips as they moved to speak. The sentence chilled the room and every eye came to rest on the lips. They could not speak. "You call yourself the hunters of monsters and you cannot tell a werewolf from a vampire? Hellsing should at least know the difference."

"It speaks!" One of the men gasped out, taking a step back. He scrambled to catch his crossbow when he almost dropped it. "The thing speaks?"

"I am not a thing." Dracula's eyes opened and he watched the men for a moment before he tired of it and closed them again, returning to his unresponsive state. The blood dribbled over his lip, touching his chin.

"What do you mean it was a werewolf?"

Dracula didn't answer.

"Are you meaning to say that they exist?"

The eyes opened. "Are you doubting the fact that they do?"

The men bit their lips, repulsed by the creature's ability to hold a conversation. "No." he mumbled, shifting his crossbow to his other arm.

Another man spoke as he saw the vampire was about to lose interest. "You have been awake this entire time, beast?"Dracula looked at the aged hunter, and kept his eyes on the man, never blinking or speaking. "I know of werewolves…I have never seen one and had believed that they were a dying race."

"They are."

The old man held his own gaze, looking at the beast in a new light. Another younger man broke the exchange.

"Monsters are well acquainted with their own kind, eh? Molesting humanity's peaceful times…" he spat on the floor in disgust.

"Vampires and werewolves are mortal enemies. We kill each other instinctively in a confrontation. That is probably why there are not many in Europe. Over the centuries they have been killed or forced to migrate into the East."

The men were stunned, more by the concept of bitterness amongst their prey rather than the civil tone that was being used.

The old man spoke again. "And you, vampire…have you killed these beasts?"

"Killed them and eaten them. I'm a cannibal of sorts as well…which I'm sure you enjoy hearing…. Now I did not wish to interrupt your target practice. You should resume, for I have yet to see one of your bolts graze this stake in my chest. You should better your aim while you have the chance to do so." The eyes closed, leaving the men with the heavy sarcasm. Unable to continue using the vampire as a target at the moment, they left the cell, thanking the older hunter with a nod when he offered to return their bolts to them later. The old hunter went before the demon and took out the silver shafts.

"It has been ages since vampires and werewolves have been common enemies… Today's vampires are also ignorant of their true identities and past…and they fall after a single bullet that touches their heart." He pulled out the bolts from the vampire's chest. "But you do not die after being burned…and you are not of English descent. You crossed the sea." Dracula showed no response, but he listened to the man as a hand came to rest on the metal protruding from his stomach. "I have often wondered whether you truly were 'alive', or if you really could be a vampire…or rather a spawn of Lucifer himself."

Dracula opened his eyes and gave an amused smirk. "One as old as yourself, with such knowledge…why do you serve Van Hellsing?"

The man stepped back, ripping out the bolt with a scowl. "You will not turn me against him, demon. I know your kind's ways of temptation."

The crimson eyes sparked, then dimmed as the smirk became a smile. "It was only a question." His lips twitched with humor. "I promise."

The man scoffed at the humor, but remained where he was. "I serve him because I know a great man when I see one."

Dracula did not comment.

"What are you really? You cannot be a mere vampire…one of the common vermin that scurry about in the filth of poverty stricken sections of London or the useless, abandoned farm houses in the country side. Would you answer me that, vampire?"

"If I were to say that I was not Lucifer's spawn…but Satan himself, what would that change?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't believe it."

"If I said I was some other means of devil, would that change anything?"

The man frowned, but got the point. "No. But I want to know the monsters that may lay hidden away in our world."

Satisfied with this, Dracula closed his eyes. "Ask Van Hellsing."