Facilis Descensus Averno
by Charis

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Based off the manga.

Notes: I think I'm going to have to make my chapters shorter than I had originally intended if I'm ever going to update this; either that, or this will be the first part of Chapter 1, and eventually I'll write the rest of what I'd intended to go in this part. I tried to write more, but it just wouldn't work right now. I blame cold meds. Non-drowsy, my sainted aunt.
The quote is more over the top than I'd originally intended; there was a method to the madness at some point.

Chapter One: Nothing Left But Hell

I am in a box
I am locked inside
Someone owns the locks
Nowhere left to hide
Nothing left but hell
No one left to be
- Kathy Mar, "Box"

A hand cradled the back of her head, supporting her. The other curved up along her jaw, wrist against her lips, and she was drinking greedily, heat sliding down her throat -

It took only the space of a heartbeat to figure out what was happening. She thrust his hands away from her in sudden disgust, turned her head and spat furiously, but even in that moment's thought, she knew it was too late. The space of a heartbeat, indeed, but it would have to be another's heart.

"What have you done?" she whispered, horrified, though she knew the answer. He only smiled.

"You did not wish death." The words were deceptively mild, almost innocuous, but his eyes gleamed with delight. She knew he had waited for this moment; he had made that abundantly plain to her over the years. She had just never expected that it would actually come. Despite the sudden wave of revulsion and self-loathing, she managed to glare daggers at him.

"This is supposed to be better? I might as well be dead!"

This time he made no verbal response, only continued to smile that same small, infuriating smirk. She drew back, drove her fist into his face with all the fury she could muster. There was the crunch of bone, but it brought no satisfaction, especially when he simply healed the wound without comment. She gave in to rage, knowing that the other emotions which lurked near would only make the situation worse. She could ill-afford to give in to despair.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking? Explain yourself, Alucard!"

"No."

She froze. "What?"

"No," and, mockingly, "Integra."

The wards. The bloody, be-damned wards. The only things holding him in check. The wards wrought with the blood of a Hellsing - the blood which no longer flowed through her veins, but stained her clothes and his lips. As though to mock her, his tongue snaked out and licked a drop away from the corner of his mouth; his teeth were stained red as he grinned at her.

"A fine twist this is, is it not? The master becomes the mastered."

This time, she spat in his face. "If you think that I - that I would ever listen to you, obey you, then you've gone completely insane! Wards or no wards, you gave me your oath, and I'm bloody well going to hold you to it!"

She was grasping at straws, and they both knew it - but he had sworn, and she would do everything she possibly could to make sure that he would obey that old oath, even if it meant somehow binding him to another, and she suspected he knew as much. Still, his smile taunted her. "So I am vowed to your orders, and your will is bound to mine. We are at impasse."

Determinedly ignoring him, Integra rose. Her limbs were no longer shaky; that first wave of fury had washed away all vestiges of her injury. She did not need to feel her ribs to know that the bullet hole was long gone, as were the marks from where he had drained her blood. Around her, the charred remains of suburbia still smouldered, but all traces of the enemy were long since gone. It was still night, with the full moon (hunter's moon, her mind supplied, remembering Alucard's phrase of choice) just reaching its zenith, and she could see clearly around her the bodies - her men; they had been fighting ghouls, and the dust from those creatures lay thick atop blood and ash.

"The mission was successful?" It was not quite a question.

Alucard moved up behind her; he did not touch her, but she could feel his presence in every fibre of her body. "Yes."

Victory tasted like ashes and old blood, and no less bitter than failure. She nodded grimly and strode to the entryway, where the shattered remnants of Hellsing's forces were grouping.