Disclaimer: I do not under any circumstances own Twilight nor do I own Hellsing. Stephanie Meyer (Twilight) and Kouta Hirano(Hellsing) own them.

Crushed Roaches and Swatted Flies

Prologue: It Begins

The stench of decay and death was thick in the air, and the bitter smell of burnt flesh left a sour taste on his tongue. The fires had consumed all and left no one untouched, the once blooming village was nothing more then a wasteland of beggars, thieves, prostitutes and embittered people without hope of salvation. He remember a time when he came across a similar village. Somehow during his time there treating the sick and young, Carlisle had watched as the village went against all odds and became thriving once more. It all had happened less than six years! Carlisle packed the last of things knowing the village no longer needed his help and that it was time to move on, what had really pushed him though was the incident that had happened the day before. Regret filled his broken soul – if he even had a soul – it seemed he still needed to perfect his control.

Carlisle looked at his reflection of the looking glass; red eyes stared back at him, a sign of his failure. Those red tinged eyes looked at him with amusement at his foolish attempt to walk among humans as their kin. How foolish could he be? Carlisle couldn't help but think that he was merely a wolf with sheep skin in disguise. He stepped out of his small cottage suitcase in hand, the night was young and if he was fast enough he would make it to London by morning.

"Do you have to go?" A whispered timid voice stopped him from hopping on his horse.

Carlisle spun around to see young brunette nearing her twenties. She was currently wearing just a pale white nightgown and standing barefooted just a couple of feet away from him. He was relieved for her distance and the poor lighting of the hidden full moon, she wouldn't be able to see the ominous red in his irises.

"I am no longer needed here, Ms Williams. There are other villages in need of my aid," he said softly.

This, right here, was another reason why he had to leave; that damnable woman had somehow managed to bewitch his heart. Carlisle had never let her know of his affections for she deserved someone of her own kind. He gave her kind smile as she tried to convince him to stay, "It's late, and there are wild animals out there that could prove to be dangerous. Please stay the night and leave in the morn at least."

"I think I can handle a few wolves," he said knowingly before hopping (lightly) on his horse. "Have a goodnight, Ms Williams." With his farewell said, Carlisle took off before she could even say anything else.

In the end he traveled for three days as his horse had broken a leg and had to be unfortunately put down. He couldn't bring himself to feed off the animal; Carlisle had known the animal since it was nothing more than a foal. The foal had been given to him as a gift by the pastor of the village as a gift, the horse was given the name Schneider and now he was dead. His only companion was dead and buried, once more he had found himself living life in solitude. As he enjoyed the night Carlisle had decided on walking rather then running to London.

He fed off animals that approached too close rather than hunting them down, eventually he finally came across this village in the borderlines of London. Right now he was currently treating an old man that had been left to bleed out by a petty thief. He smiled at the old man, even though the tantalizing sweet smell of wizened blood taunted him to take a small drink. Carlisle's hands were visibly shaking now; he needed to get out of this old man's home before it was too late.

"Here, just take these and you should be fine in a few days," he said placing a small medicine bottle on nightstand. "Make sure you get plenty of rest and don't overexert yourself."

He stood up to leave but the old man stopped him, "I know what you are, monster of the night." Carlisle froze before turning to face a smiling old man. "You are hungry and yet you refuse to take the blood of an easy prey such as I, why is that?"

Carlisle did not answer, only wondering how the man even knew what he was.

"You wish to know, how I know do you not?"

Carlisle gave the old man a small nod, "First answer my question and I will tell you why."

"I do not wish to be become a monster, to feed off man goes against my nature and morals in life and now in death." Carlisle responded softly, for now his hunger tossed to side as he drew closer to wizened old man. He sat down on chair near the old man bed; it wasn't very close to the old man thus keeping the scent a little furthers way from him.

"Do not wish to become a monster," the old man echoed humor filling his tone was he stared mockingly at Carlisle. "What a foolish goal you have set upon yourself, you are already a monster." The old man chortled.

Carlisle narrowed his eyes at the old man feeling anger at being mocked but at the same time feeling foolish knowing it was true. He was a monster; he had murdered that beggar in cold blood just to sustain himself.

"I wish you good luck in your endeavors." The old man spoke up after he finished laughing and looked at Carlisle dead in the eye as he moved to stand up from his bed. Carlisle must have looked like he was about to protest because the old man just gave him lazy wave to leave him be. He rifled threw the drawer of his nightstand until he pulled out a silver cross, it was beautiful in all its plain and intricate designs. "I was a foolish and naïve man, I thought myself on top of the world all the while tarnishing the lives of others. I cared not who I harmed, but I was the son of a priest destined to live up to my father's reputation. I thought him crazy, I was a man of science all his talk of daemons, possessions and other nonsensical things had me resenting him. He was an embarrassment to all my intellectual acquaintences."

"I had a sister as well; she was an average lady who was unfortunately a spinster do to her age. She, like my father, was devoted to the church. She gave me this blessed cross to ward off the beasts of hell the day I decided to leave that wretched oppressed hovel I called home. I loved my sister and at times saw her as my daughter as she was ten and five years younger than I, I could not bring myself to laugh at her face by the absurdity that was her beliefs. She made me promise to wear it at all times, knowing I would never see her again I kept my word."

The old man sighed; a far away look fogged his eyes. Carlisle wondered if the old man was seeing his sister within his memories, and shifted uncomfortable with the old man's musings. "I never knew it would save my life from you monsters of the night. I think it was all the deaths and tragedies I experienced during my travels that I began to question my apathy for the church. It was night much like this when I crossed roads with a dying young man. He was pale, placid and prepared to die. I cared for him during his troubled sleep; I knew my efforts would be in vain for he would die within a day or so."

As the old man told Carlisle his story he stood stalk still, the old man's whispy gray eyes remained glued onto the silver cross - his grip tightening. The old man walked slowly back to his bed and sat down resting his back against the headrest, "He was weak, and heavily injured in a state of delirium. I attempted to feed and give him water as he continued his muttering of his hunger and thirst but no matter what I gave him, his stomach would not hold it. Frustrated, I left to seek help when I returned with no help as I could not find any. I walked in on him feeding off a hare, I didn't realize then but I was holding on tightly to the cross that hung on my neck. The young man thanked me for my efforts and healing his wounds, he said that in return for my kindness he would tell me a story of the creation of his kind, his King. Ha, these creatures had hierarchy could you believe that?" The old man barked in bitter laughter that soon turned in hacking like noises, moving to help the old man Carlisle was stunned at the old man's stubborn refusal for anymore of his help, eventually the old man stopped. "Where was I?"

Curiosity crept into Carlisle's mind; there was no doubt that he was curious of what exactly made him what he was. Oh, he knew who his creator was but he had no idea what kept him in a state of living dead. "He told me that their 'King' was supposedly the first of their kind. That he turned his back on God and became a monster. That was the reason why holy and blessed objects such as this one," the old man raised his cross in emphasis, "burnt or harmed them. He claimed that his King was an unforgiving one and his cruelty knew no bounds, and that that was the reason why he was looked up upon or that no one dared challenge him for the supposed throne. Even his own kind feared him, for I could see his fear even as he praised him with reverence. All throughout his speech I remained silent; the creature soon went off topic of his precious King and admitted that they could only sustain themselves by drinking the blood of humans. As he babbled about his 'supposed higher species' I realized much how he spoke about us as though we were nothing but cattle.

I asked why he hadn't killed me when I was still ignorant of what he was. He said that he was actually going to kill me if it hadn't been for the cross. The creature soon left after, his parting word were, "You are one lucky human." As time went by, and I continued my travels with the cross safely tucked under clothes. I heard stories of these creatures draining humans dry and an even more terrifying story of a red eyed monster disguised as a gentleman. I soon grew wary of my safety and found a home within this village. So I find myself curious as to why you have not given in to your hunger."

Carlisle opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. Why did he refuse his desire to feed off humans? Was it because of his selfish needs to remaining pure? No, that wasn't it at all, the answer was simple all this time. "I choose not to because I can. There is another way that will keep innocent people from pointless deaths. I will not become a monster that only cares for his self, and if that is the way my "King" is then I want nothing to do with him. So I repeat: I do not wish to become a monster…if there is another way then I will take that road."

The old man stared at him before laughing (very quietly) once more, "Such a strange creature. You are more human then you're fellow brethren. Do not worry, for I do not think you will ever become close to being a monster as those that I have heard of. It is because of your beliefs and morals that makes you human, don't ever forget that compassion you have. It will be your salvation; maybe perhaps God has a spot saved for you. Go, and finish answering the questions that you still have. Leave me be."

With those parting words the old man closed his eyes, never once opening his eyes again. Carlisle approached the old man; he could hear his heart still beating just very slowly, any moment the old man's heart would stop. His dark eyes landed on the old man's hand that was still holding the cross closely to his chest, Carlisle felt tempted to touch the cross. He wondered if it was true, would it burn or harm him. His fingers hovered over the cross; he yanked his hand away before he could though. He would not ruin this old man's final moments, so with that Carlisle left never once looking back at the old man's prone form.

For days Carlisle healed and cared for many injured and/or sickly humans. He made sure that he was well fed but there were times when the scent was just too tempting or alluring. He took these times as a challenge and worked ten times as hard in ignoring the alluring smell often making him appear as though he was unwell but sometimes if it got to be too much he would be forced to quit a little earlier then usual. It just happened to be one of those days, a little boy had badly burned and infected arm. The boy had a recently made deep cut unto his side that would not have been life threatening had he been healthier. Having already dealt with the wound immediately, Carlisle worked on putting salve on the now cleansed burnt arm and wrapping it in a soft cloth all the while ignoring the wringing hunger twisting in his gut.

Sunken eyes stared into his as he finished wrapping the injury, a more cynical part Carlisle that he didn't he even had demanded why he was even trying the boy would within a day or so. Carlisle mentally shook away those bitter thoughts; it did not matter so long as the child had been treated. These hopeless people needed to see that some still cared for there meager existence. The sensation of long cold skeletal fingers abruptly went down his spine that practically deafened his ears from its echoing scream of danger; he stiffened before lifting his gaze to see a gentleman standing on the other side of street dressed in clothing befitted for a noble of a high social ranking. The gentleman's eyes were covered by the brim of his hat but that small grin of his was unmistakable if not a little unsettling even from the distance he was standing on.

Carlisle removed his eyes off the daunting man and gave the boy a gentle smile. "You should be okay now," he lied and stood up to face the man on the other side of the road with narrowed eyes as he watched the gentleman lift his head slightly to observe the child as he gave Carlisle a shaking nod before running off to who knows where.

Those red eyes, hell brewed within them. Damnation. And most importantly his death should he even attempt to try to save the child should that demon choose the boy as his next meal. Carlisle was of no match to this much older and experienced night dwelling creature; he was barely even reaching eighty! If Carlisle knew one thing of his fellow brethren was that with age came power. Soon the man's grin spread further, the shadows of the light giving the illusion that this creature had dagger like teeth. "He will die," the man spoke with an accented baritone voice, before turning around and walking away the opposite direction the child run off to.

If Carlisle thought back, he would say he had no idea as to where his courage came from when he confronted the devil in disguise. All that rang through his mind as ran to the other side of the road to reach him was what if he was going to go after the child, easy prey after all.

"I know, but that won't stop me from helping," Carlisle said with not a hint of his fear tarnishing his calm tone as soon as he was right behind him, Carlisle realized at that moment when the man turned around he was so much smaller in height than him.

The grin was gone only to be replaced by a mocking smirk, "What's you name young one?"

With an unwavering gaze he answered, "Carlisle."

"You are different," the man said in thoughtful tone. "Why do you resist?"

Why did it feel like his life depended on the answer he gave him? Was it because of those blood red eyes...yes it was those eyes. "I…" Why was he hesitating, was he that afraid? No, Carlisle would not allow this stranger to intimidate him. "I do not want to become a monster." He said with finality. This was the third time he was saying this aloud, whatever doubts weighing him down were finally removing themselves just by saying this directly to this man specifically. Why was that?

Carlisle quickly took a step back when he saw the anger appearing in those eyes, his body tensed ready to run or fight should it be called for. The mocking smile reappeared once, "It was a…pleasure making your acquaintance. Perhaps we shall meet again." The man took a step away from Carlisle melting into the shadows of the night.

Carlisle released a shaking breath when he was sure that the man was gone. He began to walk away when Carlisle suddenly remembered a conversation he had with a certain dying old man. A certain part of the conversation rang clearly in his mind.

"Even his own kind feared him, for I could see his fear even as he praised him with reverence…a red eyed monster disguised as a gentleman."

Had Carlisle just met his supposed "King" without his notice?

Carlisle didn't know it yet, but he would the King two more times. Once, he will be invited for a late night "tea" during the end of the 19th century. The second time he will be accompanied by his pseudo daughter, and soon to be queen, to bring the end of his family and all his kind.

It was a thin leather bound book that had been wrapped in brown paper with no return address. After making sure that it was clean from any unnecessary pleasantries Integra found herself opening the mysteriously sent book (how it even got passed security was is mystery of itself, which is why she got it checked in the first place). The first thing she discovered was that it was handwritten in neat elegant cursive. Her steel blue eyes skimmed through the writing every once in awhile going past the words 'vampyre', 'nature' and 'creature'. So it is a book speculating about vampires, she mused before flipping back to the first page never noticing at first the letter that fell out and landed on her desk.

Vampyres are known to be tough to kill and that is because nature made them thus and since vampyres are nature's creation then why was the first vampyre, the Undead King, created by turning his back on God? There are so many different folklore about the vampyre legend that it is hard to distinguish fact from fiction, but there are two in particular that are constant being repeated. The vampyre descendants of Dracula and the Cold Ones, although the latter are constantly confused for being fairies and other magical creatures, and they do not seem to follow the basic rules of the vampyre lore. This because although both creatures feed off human blood they are very different, in family terms they would be considered as distant cousins. There had to have been mistakes before Dracula ever came to be.

The legend of the Cold Ones goes back to the Roman times were they were first recorded. They are characterized mostly by the nearly inhuman beauty and cold skin…

As Integra reached the final page one sentence caught her attention in particular and had her questioning whether the book really was just a bunch of rubbish filled with speculations or not.

After all, what is the King without his Queen?

Integra stared at the sentence before she shifted her gaze to the letter innocently lying on her desk facedown. On the letter's front written in cursive was her name: Sir Integra, a blank check and a small note were found inside. It read:

It's time nature took its course

Look at the last three pages, it's not all bullshit.

There was a list of addresses, locations and cities in neat rows along with the names of covens: numbers within said coven and even names of certain members. If what was written was true then it would appear that the Vatican had quite the infestation going on within the city of Volterra. Perhaps she should have it checked out; Alucard was do to return in an hour or so (depending if he is going to take his precious time or not and if Agent Victoria somehow manages to convince him to return on time). And when he returned Alucard she would have some questions that needed to be answered by him, she knew without a doubt that he knew of there existence – if they even existed at all.

Integra's eyes skimmed the list until she found a small coven of two vampires living in an abandoned house in the outskirts of an old farming village, the perfect place to pick up wandering or lost tourists.

With a nearly irritate scowl on Integra's face, she would have to call them to inform them of their little infestation as much as she didn't want to.

Review

A/N: So what do you think, is it better? Personally I do but that's just me. In writing, have I improved I know had some problems grammar wise. Still do but I hope it isn't that noticable. Stay tuned for the next chapter: An Amusing Anticlimactic Fight. Laters.