Here's the third and final installment of my little Hellsing trilogy—this time from Alucard's point of view. It's a bit shorter and a bit sweeter, but I'm happy with how these turned out. I'll probably write more fics in this style in the future.

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Thanks go to GrimGrave for beta-ing this :3

-Proper-

The night is still and quiet all around you and you cast your senses outwards in a net, searching for and finding no trace of hostile presence.

And it is perhaps the complete absence that bothers you most.

A cricket chirps, an owl releases a suspicious hoot, and you draw the crimson cloth of your cloak around your shoulders, your nostrils flaring as you rely on your baser instincts to clue you in on just what is going on here. Ghouls rule the night and yet there is no tortured moaning or frantic, mindless bloodlust in the air. It's almost as though—

"Police Girl," you bark suddenly, part of you remembering why it's so quiet: the pretty blonde Draculina you sired had gone off to scout the area and she still had yet to return.

"Yes, Master?" the girl's voice responds within the confines of your mind. You can tell by the faintness of the bond that she's wandered quite some distance.

"Report back to me. Immediately. Something isn't right."

"Yes, Master."

She sounds distracted, however, and a little red flag goes off at the back of your mind. "Now, Police Girl."

Silence. You swear quietly under your breath and the night twists around you—its true master—like a living, breathing creature. It pools around your feet and your body becomes cooler than ice as you warp the very atmosphere in order to travel several miles in an eye blink to the place where you sense the girl's presence.

When you resurface, your body solidifying and warming (though only slightly), there's no sign of the policewoman and you frown from behind yellow-lensed glasses.

'Where in the world…?'

It takes only a split second for you to whirl out of the way of a ghastly, rotting form, and you grab the creature by the throat, easily shredding it to putrid chunks of green-black with a single motion.

And, suddenly, you're surrounded.

You lose track of the bodies you've broken and the gallons of vicious liquid that have soaked the ground and your impressive crimson cloak.

The only thing you have in mind is the world of trouble you'll be in when your master, Integras Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, finds out that her precious police girl had been injured under your watch.

And it wasn't that you, an immortal, feared the human woman. You respected her and your respect was not something you distributed often.

So where had that orange-haired brat gotten off to?

You whirl, catching a ghoul by the wrist and swinging it around like a club, levelling several of its allies—if the savage, putrid creatures could be such a thing—and disposing of its mangled remains once your momentum dies. The threat momentarily neutralized, you cast your senses outwards until you touch the consciousness of your sire.

"Police Girl?" She doesn't respond and your eyebrows draw together over your glasses; sinking once again into the shadows, you travel several miles in the blink of an eye and resurface in the middle of a ring of abominations. "Police Girl!"

At last, you've found her: your young Draculina is fighting her way through the horde with one arm pressed against her side and the other cradling her gigantic firearm, Harkonnen, on her shoulder. Blood pours down her side, gushing from somewhere around her ribs and one eye is shut to prevent the crimson liquid from dripping into it from the crown of her head—evidently from a rather serious wound because she swoons slightly before catching herself and gritting her teeth, firing off powerful rounds that sends her sliding backwards despite her bracing stance.

"Ma…ster?"

You dash forward, blowing a dozen ghouls out of your path and reducing them to smithereens with whip-like tendrils of darkness even as you lift both the Draculina and her weapon as though they are weightless.

You know something is dreadfully wrong when she smiles faintly and goes limp in your arms, her eyelids fluttering shut as Harkonnen falls to the loamy earth with a dull 'clank'.

This is bad.

Your eyes burn brightly as you tear through the enemy ranks, carefully keeping Seras tucked against your side. It soon becomes evident that their incredible numbers will wear you down—especially with the dead weight of your passenger—and you bare your fangs, snarling ferociously as you leap clear of what soon becomes a ghoul pile-up. It takes a lot out of you, but you sink into the shadows once again, leaving only a scorch mark when the remaining ghouls pounce.

…Hellsing Estate 3:00AM…

The double doors to Sir Integra's office burst open before you and you feel a slight twinge of discomfort as you expend more of your powers. It seems even you have your limits… Even if those limits take days of nonstop tracking and eradication of threats to reach. You don't let it reflect in our stance as you sweep across the thickly-carpeted floor.

"Seras…?!" Your master's expression is more fearful than you've ever seen it, her heart pounding loudly within her breast to the point that you can hear the whistle of blood through her veins… and for some reason that fills you with dread. "What happened?"

"An ambush," you respond grimly.

"Walter, draw a bath—quickly!" she barks, her eyes locked on Seras. "Alucard, bring her this way. I'll take care of her."

…

You lean against the wall next to the huge bay window overlooking the grounds, staring out at the moonlit lawn as you listen to the sounds of Integra fussing over her incapacitated lover. Your mind is restless and you can sense the sun's approach and a wave of exhaustion washes over you as a result.

Once the splashing stops, there are footsteps; you look over to see the tall blonde woman draping a thin white sheet over the nude form of the slumbering Draculina. Her glasses are on the nightstand and, strangely enough, that makes her face look younger. Vulnerable.

"Will she be okay?" Blue eyes have never been more hopeful.

"Only time will tell." You hate the way her expression falls, but you can't find it in you to lie to your master.

She nods, her expression serious, and you avert your gaze. You've never been very good at withholding your opinion, so you can't help but remark, "This… relationship of yours is not healthy, Master." You very much wish you didn't know about such a thing, but you can't help the fact that you have incredible hearing and their trysts are quite… Frequent. Not to mention loud. "In the end, you know that it is not proper. Best to end it before she becomes too attached."

Integra is silent, but you can tell from the way her jaw tightens that she's listening and she doesn't like what she hears—you're one of the few people who dare to say such things. Finally, she murmurs, "It's difficult."

"I know."

You both watch the slumbering Draculina for a moment then, she reaches towards spiky orange locks, running her fingers through them tenderly, her expression unreadable. "Alucard…"

"Master."

"I know that you care for me. You know me better than even Walter."

"…" She was correct, of course, but admitting that made your skin crawl. You don't recall when your service to her family became less of a burden and more of a personal matter. You don't recall when you actually started to like your master in addition to respect her.

No one could know that she and your latest childe were your Achilles' Heel.

"And that's how I know that you know that there's no way I'm going to give up on Seras."

The aforementioned policewoman stirs, her eyebrows drawing together as she releases a pained whimper and, when her lover leans in and presses a kiss to the girl's forehead, the ginger-haired beauty's expression becomes peaceful.

Yes, you know… and you've seen enough; you bid your master good night and sink through layers of stone and right into the basement where your coffin awaits with open arms. You remove your wide-brimmed hat and your glasses and settle inside, crossing your arms over your chest and stifling a yawn.

As you drift off, the coffin's lid lowering to block out what little light the torches around the room's perimeter give off, your final thoughts are surprisingly optimistic:

Relations with the Draculina might not have been proper behavior for a woman of her status, but…

As long as your precious master is happy.

-End-