Author's Note: So no one knows Anderson's back story. What if he didn't either? What if it was something beyond anything he could have ever imagined?
"Wait for me!"
The child, dark haired with tawny eyes waited atop the hill.
"Hurry, Alexander, or you'll miss the army riding out!" he urged.
Alexander, looking very different from the older boy with his blond hair and green eyes, panted as he scrambled up the hill to stand beside the dark haired boy.
"Wow," he said, watching the army ride out to defend their land.
"It will be us one day, Alexander. One day we'll defend our kingdom. The heathens will fear us."
Alexander smiled.
"Yes, brother."
Father Alexander Anderson woke with a start, falling out of bed. He sighed.
"That dream again? What does it mean? Who was that other boy?"
As usual, he didn't have the answers. He had never believed in reincarnation, but now he was considering it. That dream took place long, long ago, and, by the flags, in what was once Wallachia, now Romania. The older boy was his brother, but he never learned his name. He remembered nothing beyond becoming an Iscariot and regenerator, but the memories of his past were still locked deep in his subconscious.
He got back in bed and fell back asleep.
That day he was sent to Badrick, Ireland to deal with a vampire. He fell asleep on the plane, knowing it would be the middle of the night in Ireland.
"It's so peaceful today."
"Yes. It is rare for a day like this."
He looked at his brother, now in his twenties with long, wild black hair and the beginnings of a mustache.
"I cannot wait for the days of peace."
His brother chuckled.
"Does the fierce Father Alexander, from whom the Ottoman soldiers flee, wish to lay down the sword he secretly loves to wield?"
He grinned at the older man.
"I am a priest, after all."
"You were a soldier first."
Both laughed then fell in easy silence.
"Brother, do you ever feel like... this is the calm before the storm? That all this fighting and death may not even be worth it in the end?"
His brother sat up.
"Yes, but we cannot think like that, Alexander. The war will be over soon. I can feel it."
"Yes, but... will we be the victors?"
He woke to a flight attendant shaking his shoulder.
"We've arrived, Father."
Thanking her, he left the plane and took a cab to a large country house. He paid the driver and sent him back to town. He could heard the groans and growls of ghouls. Grinning manically, he drew his bayonets and rushed into the house, tearing through the ghouls and charging up the stairs after the fleeing vampire. The vampire, newly created, had no change against the seasoned paladin and was quickly reduced to dust.
Gunfire erupted downstairs, though some shots were rather loud. Then came even louder shots, which he thought sounded almost like a small cannon.
"Police Girl, when you aim make sure to put a hole through the head or the heart."
He froze. That voice. It was from his dreams! It was gruffer and no longer bore a Romanian accent, but it was the voice from his dreams for sure. He headed back downstairs. He sensed them, two more vampires. He threw several bayonets around the corner.
"What?!"
He stepped into sight. A small woman in a yellow uniform was on the floor, pierced with his blades. A tall man in red with orange tinted glasses turned on him. That was him! The brother from his dreams!
They stared at each other in unmasked shock.
"Alexander?"
Unbidden, a name came forth.
"Vlad."
End Note: Please review.