Author's Note: I feel so lucky, you wanna hug me (what rhymes with hug me?) *dances away, scarf wavering in the wind*


"So you take the high road, and I'll take the low road; and I'll be in Scotland afore ye." Anderson looked at the tiny transistor radio on the windowsill that faithfully crooned the old, familiar song to the fields beyond the wooden platform. He rubbed his eyes and looked around at the familiar decorations on the walls, where they'd always been from his first memories to the day he left forever. A plump woman with her hair in a braided bun hummed along with the song as she stirred something on the stove. She turned when he shifted to stand, the stray hairs curling from the heat around her face and framing her glittering green eyes. She wiped her hands on her apron and went to sit across from him at the table, picking up a wooden circle of embroidery. Idle hands are the Devil's playthings, ye know.

"So you're to be married now. How wonderful!" the woman exclaimed after a silent moment. Anderson looked at her, feeling like a child again even though he towered over the woman and the table in his seat. "And to a nice Christian lassie. I knew you'd find someone someday."

"I'm to be married?" Anderson frowned in confusion and rubbed a hand through his hair, wracking his brains. He barely remembered a silver ring glinting in the light of a hotel room….

"Oh, aye. I just wish you had my wedding gown to marry her in. Something old, you know and that gown's been in my mother's family for ages." The woman smiled fondly and reached over the table to pat the broad hand that rested on the other end. "I know you'll be a good husband. But take my advice. A marriage must have respect and trust. Just look at your da and me; we may not have known each other long before marrying, but it lasted all the same, because we built it on trust." She waved her finger in the air at him, her face becoming stern. "God sees everything, Alex. You can't be untrue without three souls knowing." Anderson nodded obediently.

"Ma, I don't know if I can get married. I'm worried that-" He colored slightly and frowned. He never talked much with either of his parents about what he was doing when he went missing. They'd treated him like the prodigal son when he returned, but they'd never asked where he'd been and he'd never told them. It shamed him that he disrespected the Anderson family name in such a way, and besides the entire village had known about it when he left for Edinburgh. "I'm worried that I'll fall back into old habits," he finished neutrally, looking up at the kind woman with a saddened expression. His mother clucked and shook her head.

"God gave us partners to keep us out of temptation, Alex. You know the Scriptures. And besides, she's enough of a firebrand to keep you out of the whiskey and smokes. You'll have a rough time breaking that horse, as your da would say." She smiled and placed her embroidery back on the table, getting up and flicking the scraps out of her apron before walking over to the stove. Anderson watched her with a smile before looking over at the radio, still playing the song amid crackling static.

"Ma," he began as he rubbed his chin. "This isn't real, is it? You never had a transistor radio. They weren't even invented until after you passed in '47." The woman grinned impishly from the stove, waving her hand dismissively.

"Of course it's not real. 'Tis only a dream, after all. You're still in Ireland."


Seras swung her legs out childishly; she closed her eyes and listening to the whispering winds move in the trees. It spoke of change, and she was certain that she understood. Change was coming, but was it for the better? Only time, or her Master, could tell.

"Ow! Fucking bugger, Victoria!" She stopped mid-kick and opened her eyes to see one of her men rubbing the back of his head, angrily glaring up at her. She smiled apologetically and crossed her legs under herself to keep from accidentally beheading someone with an errant kick. She saw Alucard arch his brows and she slid off of the banister, coming to stand closer to him while the other soldiers filed in slowly and take their seats.

"Seras," he acknowledged almost indulgently, bowing his head as she drifted nearer. She smiled and stood as close as she dared, the corner of his sleeve barely brushing her bare forearm. They never touched each other in public settings; such an intimacy was saved for when it was just the two of them. People would begin to talk about relationships and other humanly things, which were of course all lies. Seras and her master weren't "an item"; they simply shared a higher plane of existence that humans neither could nor should understand.

Seras was pretty sure there were higher tiers of intimacy, if you will, but she wasn't sure if she'd ever find someone to reach it with seeing as Alucard seemed to have the sex drive of an elderly hamster. Sure, he would crack jokes about sex and even go so far to tease his prude of a boss, but the entire time she'd known him he'd never taken a lover or even seemed interested in pursuing a woman. She had wondered for a time if he was gay, but she highly doubted it (although with the way he fawned over his guns, she still was wary of it sometimes).

No, that wasn't all true; she didn't give him enough credit. She'd caught him staring once or twice at her when she ran to the vans for missions or climbed stairs or… anything that involved her chest moving in any way whatsoever. Perhaps he was just more subtle about his needs, or-well, there was another way, and he did spend an awful lot of time alone, didn't he? Seras winced and pulled her mind out of its current train of thought. Forget the gutter; she was going straight into the sewers with her mental images.

Police Girl, please try and pay attention. I have no time or patience to give you a private briefing, her master chastised when he saw her absent expression. Seras jumped to attention and stood to the side, out of the way of the podium as Alucard looked over his audience. He looked at Walter, who nodded curtly and pressed the button on the projector. A map of England, Scotland, and Ireland popped up and Captain Penn tapped a pointer against the flimsy screen.

"As some of you know, we managed to destroy all of the enemy forces around the city of London, with many civilian fatalities but only minimal casualties on our side, which lead me to believe you men weren't trying hard enough." A sinister grin reminded the assembled of how lucky they were that Alucard wasn't their permanent commander. "In the process, I managed to choke down enough Siren blood to see their plan. Unfortunately, Sirens are incredibly dense. They can only follow basic orders. Even Ghouls are more competent." He looked vaguely irritated for a moment before his face was schooled back into the default creepy smile. Captain Penn pointed to a tiny place in the corner of the map, near the bright blue expanse of ocean.

"Liverpool," he said in a bored tone. "The Sirens are based in Liverpool, and have been traveling all over the country wreaking havoc in closed numbers. Small towns can be drained of people in a week's time, but larger cities need higher numbers as we are seeing. Now, we can't send every eligible soldier to Liverpool to fight, so we need a new plan of action." Alucard leaned against the podium, nodding in time with the captain's speech. The men whispered among themselves, but Seras looked to Walter, who had his hand on his chin. He was clearly working up a Plan B.

Master, what of Sir Integra? We'll have to debrief her on this too, right? Alucard didn't move his head, but Seras could still feel his eyes boring into hers from behind the orange lenses.

Yes, my little Seras. My master should be pleased with my progress, no? Seras shrugged discreetly and turned to leave the room. She wasn't needed anymore; the men wouldn't be given orders until Sir Integra had been fully informed, so she might as well go and try to salvage a few extra hours' sleep.


Seras ran down the corridors, dodging men in turbans who leered at her breasts as she barreled by. She knew she had to reach someone important, but she wasn't sure who, or even why. Part of her wondered at the awe of the unfamiliar, yet somehow nostalgic feeling of the imagery that flew past her peripherals. Finally, she turned a final corner and something compelled her to stop at a plain, unassuming door. She heard moaning, screaming, and cries for both God and Allah coming from all around her in the crowded hallways from both men and women, but whoever was behind the door stayed quiet. She assumed her best pose and ran at the door, shrieking like a demon before rearing up and kicking it inward, shattering the lock.

It was a child, no more than twelve-years-old at the most. He wasn't chained to anything, but sat among rats and general filth and looked at her. His ebony hair was matted and hanging in his face, and his skin was so dirty she couldn't tell what color it was originally supposed to be. She didn't smell anything aside from the horrid stench coming from the corner, and looked against her will to see a rotting corpse lying there among refuse. She looked back to the boy to see him staring at the door absently, his eyes shining a brilliant blue against his black hair. He stared without any sort of emotion at all; he was a blank slate, empty and erased. She felt tears spring to her eyes and she ran over, slipping and sliding in the garbage and rat feces to hold him. He didn't respond to her touch; he could have been a breathing doll for all anyone knew.

"I'm sorry. I tried, but I'm too late," Seras whispered against his cheek, letting the tears fall for the both of them as she stroked his dingy hair. She felt something brush against her arm and looked down through her sobs, ready to kick the rat away. Instead, what she saw floored her and took her breath away.

A tiny hand clutched her forearm, the first and middle fingers barely stroking her. She choked in a breath and looked to see the blue eyes were looking at her instead of through her. She smiled and pressed her forehead to his: she didn't know who this boy was, but he was precious to her and she'd never let anyone hurt him ever again.

"It's alright; I'm here now," she said softly and let the swirling world of screams and moans fade away, leaving only the two of them in the darkness together.


Seras opened her eyes, her senses still reeling from the horrid dream. She couldn't remember if she'd ever had that one before. She could still see the little boy in her mind's eye and tears pricked her vision.

Suddenly she sat straight up, taking the coffin lid off with her. It was one of those spine-tingling feelings where something was just wrong, and she needed to act quickly. Not even bothering to grab her robe, she slammed the door off its hinges in her hurry and sprinted down to the lowest levels. Her master needed her, and fast. She reached the bloody, rune encrusted door in no time and didn't break her stride, instead sliding to kick open the wooden door without any thought of the repercussions.

"Master!" At first glance, she thought the room was empty. Standing still, she looked around and saw the coffin lid rise and a black hound stuck his muzzle through the crack, woofing softly. Taking that as permission, she jogged over and gently opened the creaking lid, gazing inside at the shadows that spilled out and pooled around her bare feet. Scoffing quietly, she pushed her hands in the shadowy tendrils and brushed them aside, searching for her creator's face. She finally found it, blank and frowning with twin red trails of bloody tears running down the sides. She gazed sadly for a moment, realizing who the little boy was after all. The blank look was the same on both the faces, only with different eye colors.

She placed a cool hand on his bare chest for a full millisecond before he had it in a vice grip. His eyes snapped open and he hissed loudly before recognition dawned and he let her go. He blinked in pure confusion for a moment before his face twisted in a snarl.

"What are you doing here?" he practically roared, his voice echoing around the nearly empty room. Seras rocked back on her feet, her hackles rising at the frightening sound.

"You-you called me here, sir." He narrowed his eyes at her and she gulped before closing her eyes. When she opened them, a new determinedness showed deep within. "You called me with your dreams, and even after I woke up." She softened her voice and reached for him. "I can help you, Master. Please, just-"

"No!" He grabbed the front of her sleep-shirt and pulled her forward. "I never called you here. You never came here. Go back to your coffin and sleep!" Seras cowered, but grabbed both his hands in hers.

"If you try to force me out, I'm just going to sleep at the door! You called me, Master! Just admit it; you had a nightmare. I was there, remember?" Alucard jerked one hand away and backhanded her across the room. She stood, wavering slightly, and made her way back, kneeling once again by the coffin's side.

"Insolent child!" he yelled and Seras closed her eyes, not wanting to flinch if he hit her again. After a moment, she cracked open one eye to see him poised above her unmoving. She opened both eyes and straightened up, looking him in the face. He looked torn and weary, and she gently pushed him back into the coffin.

"It's alright. Sleep, my master," she cooed softly, treating him like a child who'd woken from a bad dream and couldn't calm down. And he was an overgrown child in his own way; perhaps not mentally, but more emotionally. He couldn't process emotion like others could; he just wasn't mature enough. Whether he admits it or not, he needs me enough to call for me when he's afraid. He's afraid of being alone, just like me. So I'll just stay here. She closed the coffin and curled up on the lid, the smooth wood feeling nice and cool underneath her skin. She opened her eyes blearily to look at the lettering beneath her cheek. The bird of Hermes is my name, she repeated to herself and to the man within in a soft, slow lullaby until she dropped off to sleep.


Alucard heard a thump close to his head and his eyes opened immediately. Was someone in his chambers? Branching out, he felt his childe's presence and opened the lid. She must have been sleeping on top of his coffin and rolled off, otherwise she wouldn't have made a sound as she was still sound asleep, a goofy smile written on her face. He glowered at her, wondering what a suitable punishment would be for defying his orders.

He was still almost… embarrassed that he'd called her unconsciously. She'd called him before; it compelled him to answer immediately, even if she was still asleep. He'd stayed by her until her soul calmed itself with his nearness. It was clear she'd been determined to do the same for him, even if she had no idea what it meant. He, however, knew exactly what it foretold of his little police girl. He made a face and reached down, brushing her bangs off her nose.

He'd known for the longest time that she loved him in some way. She certainly wasn't the first woman to fall in love with him, but she was the first to not do anything about it. She helped him in battle, and provided companionship when he felt benevolent, but she'd never forced herself on him (other than calling his soul to her side, but that was unintentional so he'd always let it slide). But until now, he'd always assumed it was in the way a student could grow to love a mentor, or a father-daughter sort of thing.

Yet, in the dream she'd been-no, forget the dreams. They mean nothing to me. He shook his head and considered the young woman on the floor again. Maybe he should wake her up by throwing her off the roof. Yes, that would work. Then, he'd break a few bones to help the lesson sink in.

Smiling cruelly, he climbed from his coffin and lifted the sleeping girl in his arms. She nestled against him and muttered something in her sleep. His smile faltered and he looked at her for a long moment before sighing and placing her in his coffin, shutting the lid. Damn. She'd probably sleep through the pain anyway.


"And that was "The Bonny Banks O' Loch Lomond", which celebrates over 200 years of tradition today. Next, your local weather." Anderson frowned at the loud voice. It didn't do anything for his pounding temples. God in Heaven, my head!

"Fuck, do I have a hangover?" he muttered into the pillow, muffling his voice for his own sake. To his dismay, his pillow vibrated with a chuckle and a voice echoed in his ear from somewhere above it.

"No, you've "not had a drop in over 50 years," or so you keep telling me." Anderson's eyes shot open and he lifted his head to see he'd made a rather impressive pillow from Integra's lap. He groaned at the sudden movement and opened his eyes to see a cup of coffee swimming before them. Taking it gratefully he took a deep drink, not caring that it scalded on the way down. His mind slowly began to clear as the headache pounded itself out of existence, and finally he was able to focus his eyes on something longer than two seconds before getting dizzy. As he sat silently, mental images from the night before slowly trickled into his mind.

Well, he'd made a right fool of himself, but that's what he got for being forgetful. Time and time again he'd tried to curb his bad habit of running out to battle before preparing fully. When you could summon divine weapons from white space, you didn't always have the best plan in mind for keeping up with belongings. He was always leaving behind his cellular, or his Bible, and now apparently essential beeswax. He'd held his own against the singing demon for quite a while, but now he remembered that as soon as he was about to succumb to the she-beast, Integra had swooped in like a pajama-clad avenging angel, even sacrificing her clothing to make sure he was alright. Not only that, she'd managed to chase him down and eventually drag him back to the hotel, a feat in itself when you compared how tiny she was next to his bulk. The last thing he clearly remembered was looking over as she walked out of the bathroom, using his shirt for a makeshift nightgown. After that, everything was a blurry haze of cool skin and muddled thoughts.

"What happened last night?" he finally gave in and asked. Integra snorted into her coffee and sat it down on the nightstand, turning to face him with the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Well, long story short- I saved your life and now we're engaged." It didn't get the spit-take reaction she'd hoped, but he did choke on his coffee and she ended up pounding him on the back. He managed to regain control of his own breathing and gawked at her wordlessly. She met his eyes, her own face quite serious. She wasn't sure what he was going to do; would he claim he was under the influence? Would he accept what he'd done?

She hoped he'd find some way to blow it all under the rug, but a tiny voice in the back of her mind insisted that she hadn't minded his arms being around her all night and that she might enjoy being married to him. She growled and told the little voice to keep its opinions to itself, only to be snidely reminded that marriage was in fact the best option for everyone. She snapped out of her introspection to see Anderson staring quietly at the ring on her thumb, which was quite visible around the Styrofoam cup of coffee she held.

"So we are," he said softly with an air of finality. He wasn't going to fight her about it? If Integra didn't know any better, she'd of said she'd brought home a Siren instead of the priest; surely he was going to make a big fuss about being married to a Protestant woman, much less the main rival of his superior!

"And you're okay with this?" she countered, waving the hand around so that the ring caught the light. Anderson groaned and rubbed his face, getting up out of bed and throwing the empty cup in the tiny wastebasket before heading slowly to the bathroom. Integra frowned after him before shaking her head. Turning back to the telly, she watched the rest of the morning news for any signs of Siren activity. When nothing in particular popped out at her, she turned off the set and lay back down. Closing her eyes, she dropped back off into a doze as the sounds of the shower lulled her senses into stupor.

A warm hand on her forehead woke her and she sat up slightly, unsure of what was going on. Anderson had one hand on her head and the other was holding the phone receiver. He gestured to her and she yawned, taking the phone from him and murmuring her greeting into the line.

"Pleasant dreams?" Walter's friendly voice echoed from the other side sardonically. She smiled despite herself: he always had asked her that whenever she'd woken him up as a child, frightened from monsters under the bed and shadowy images that seemed to creep around the house.

"As always," she answered wryly, brushing her hair out of the way to hold the receiver on her ear. "What's the news, Walter?"

"Yes sir." He resumed his formal air and began giving her a mission debriefing. "Yesterday at 7:00, I sent out the eligible troops to London to clear the city of any Sirens. While completing this mission, Alucard managed to gather some information from the Sirens' blood." Integra's mind jumped to the thick black ooze that now coated her nightgown.

"I doubt it was the most appetizing thing he'd ever eaten," she said. She almost felt a hint of pity, but part of her schooled the information away. She could always feed him Siren blood for a week or two if he misbehaved. That would fix him up nicely.

"I agree, but everyone has to take one for the team now and again. Anyway, we learned that the Sirens have been entering England not through the Thames, as we originally thought, but through the city of Liverpool."

"Liverpool?" Integra repeated, clutching the phone. Liverpool was a large city, well situated near the ocean. It would be nothing for Sirens to hide among the masses there. "What have you done about it?"

"Nothing, as of yet. We were waiting to hear your thoughts. You and I both know we can't send all our men to Liverpool. The public would get suspicious." Walter sounded uncertain. She knew he was hesitating to send either of the vampires without her permission and she understood why. If things got ugly, it would fall on her head.

"Listen, Walter," she said slowly, looking at Anderson who was torn between blatantly eavesdropping and pretending not to listen. "I'll have to call you back. Let me talk it over with Alexander; maybe the Catholics can spare a few scouts to place in the big port cities. I'll get in touch with you before tonight, alright?" Integra looked over to him, knowing that he could hear the older man on the other end of the line. Anderson gave her a half-shrug in return and she glowered for a moment before flashing him an evil smile.

"Of course, sir. Alexander, hmm? So you're both now on a first-name basis, I presume?"

"Naturally, Walter. Why would I not be on a first-name basis with my dear fiancée? Bye!" She hung up the phone on the sputtering butler and laughed as Anderson let out a long string of curses that should never be falling from a godly man's lips. "That's what you get," she snapped.

"I really didn't know! I'm not Maxwell!" he shouted back. Integra shrugged and he gritted his teeth, his hands clenched on the table. "Don't know what I've gotten myself into," he muttered angrily, looking daggers at her. She crossed her legs and huffed.

"Well, if you are planning on marrying me you had best get used to it. I'm not going to lie down and let you walk all over me, just because we're husband and wife." She gestured to her pantsuit lying on top of her knapsack. "I do happen to wear pants too." Anderson gave her an incredulous look before turning around to address her angrily.

"Oh, no. You aren't going to think that just because you're used to being in charge-I'm the man in this relationship, and you are the woman. I make the rules," he argued.

"No, I don't think you do." Integra tensed for a fight; she could feel it brewing underneath their skin and she was looking forward to it. She half-worried that she enjoyed fighting too much, especially with the Catholic. It was even more entertaining than yelling at Alucard, because unlike the vampire Anderson was liable to get worked up and yell back rather than smile and disappear through a wall or the floor. Of course, that annoying voice in the back of her mind was right there to suggest that it was a bit of a turn-on to see him angry, but she managed to temporarily kick that voice out of her brain on its ass. She really needed to get rid of that.

"Listen here! I am the husband, I am the head of the household and you will be my equal, but still you will obey!" Anderson stood up and they squared off. "We can do it the easy way or the hard way, it's up to you." Integra tapped her shoe impatiently on the floor until he finished.

"Say what you want, but I'm a bit used to having my way. I'm not giving that up." Anderson's face turned a darker shade of red and he hissed as he took in a quick breath and tried to calm down. He took a step forward and she growled, raising her hand slightly. "Take one more step and-"

"Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth." He looked at her raised hand. "You hit me and I'll hit you back," he promised. Integra narrowed her eyes. Half of her wanted to take him up on that, and the other half was actually kind of shaken by how big he was. He could probably knock her through the wall if he wanted to. Still, she had to walk the walk, as it were. He took another, more calculating step closer and she reared up and slapped him without really thinking. She was actually just as surprised as he was as she watched her hand meet his cheek and the smack rang throughout the room. Granted, it hurt her hand much more than it hurt him, which was probably not at all although it left a nice red handprint. He touched his cheek lightly before grunting and, as promised he slapped her back. It wasn't half as hard as hers was, and it didn't even leave a mark although it did sting a bit.

They stayed still for a moment, each measuring the other before Integra went in for another hit, furious that the stupid man would dare lay a hand on her. She had half a mind to call Alucard here to have him shoot the blonde freak in the head a couple of times. She had half a mind to shoot him herself, now that she thought about it. He caught her hand mid-swing and held her without any effort. She felt like screaming and instead kicked out at him, not even thinking that she was in her bare feet and that it was going to hurt when it hit. Anderson rolled his eyes and kicked her other foot out from under her, making sure she hit the bed and not the floor. Somehow, she managed to take him down with her and they struggled for all of five seconds before Anderson had her pinned down, a bored look on his face.

"Easy way or the hard way," he repeated as she struggled to break free of his hold. She finally stilled and instead affixed the ugliest frown she could manage on her face. Anderson gave her one look before chuckling, unaffected. "Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly wash'd with dew." Integra blinked for a moment before the voice jumped back in. Oh, he knows Shakespeare!

"Are you implying that I'm a shrew?!" she shrieked, trying her best to maneuver her leg up enough to kick him and make sure that marry her or not, he'd never have children. He nodded with a grin.

"Well, you aren't in much of a place to argue anyway, are ya?" he reminded her, looking down at their bodies on the bed. Integra seized the opportunity to head-butt him, her forehead trying to push him off of her and failing miserably. He sighed in frustration and pinned her head to the bed as well, practically covering her. "You just don't learn, do you? Just give up, Integra!" A look of surprised crossed his face, as if he hadn't meant for her name to slip out.

"Never." They stared each other down, neither wanting to be the first to give up. To admit defeat would be to let the other have a higher standing, something neither of them wanted. "Face it, Alexander. We're both too stubborn to even move off this bed." Anderson didn't reply, and for the first time it dawned on her how close his face was… and how much of their bodies were actually touching… and how damn warm he was through the thin shirt. She felt her face coloring slightly and averted her eyes, not wanting to admit how affected their proximity was making her. The voice in her mind crowed self-righteously. If you want him to get off you, do something about it! Or are you enjoying this too much?

"Let me up." When he didn't move, she relaxed, letting his body fall closer to hers unintentionally. "Please let me up." she finally conceded, not looking him in the face. The grip on her wrists relented and he moved to get off the bed. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket as he moved, dragging herself up to whisper in his ear. "This is far from over," she promised. She'd get revenge, and with a good helping of interest built on to what he was due. He chuckled and when he spoke it sounded as though he were excited by the prospect.

"I didn't expect anything less." He pushed her back to the bed and walked to leave, grabbing his cellphone as he passed the table. "I need to make that call to the Vatican, I suppose." He shut the door firmly behind himself, leaving Integra alone to get dressed. She crossed her arms and looked around the small room in irritation. What was she supposed to do now? Spend the rest of her life as a prolonged battle with a man she didn't-exactly-care about?


Afterword: This was long. Why was it so long? *cries* Oh, well. More next time! Bye Niiiii~