The "hard part," as the Major had called it, was being taken care of as they spoke. He had gotten word earlier that day that a part of twelve was on its way up to Rome to capture Integra Hellsing. She may have just been one woman, but she was not a force to be reckoned with, and the Major knew that. He understood that there were risks involved, but those were risks he was willing to take.

His badger dæmon, Sven, wriggled anxiously at his counterpart's side. Is it time yet?

"Not quite," the Major answered. "We still have time."

Sven growled his irritation. I can't wait any longer.

"You'll have to," the Major told him plainly. "Patience is key when it comes to waging war. Without patience, a war is nothing more than child's play."

The badger dæmon grunted and rolled his eyes. Again he shuffled anxiously, but forced himself to settle down, his head on his paws.

"In the meantime," The Major said, smiling, "why don't we see what our dear friend Father Andersen is up to?"

~O~

That was the last straw for Andersen. One child was dead and another was missing. How many more was he supposed to risk before this madness came to an end?

It had been difficult leaving the nuns with the care of Rafael, but he had no other choice. He couldn't wait for Bernardo to return. If he did, another child could go missing. Two was two too many, and Rafael's death was one too many.

Andreas fidgeted in the backseat of the car, tearing at the sleeve of an old robe of Andersen's, taking his wrath out on the garment rather than on the leather seats or his counterpart. He grumbled curses and threats, all of which were lost among his growling and snarling and the sound of ripping fabric. He grief had quickly dissolved into rage and now he, like Andersen, wanted nothing more than to hold the guilty party responsible for Rafael's death and Bernardo's disappearance.

Is it the right time now? Andreas asked, a strip of gray fabric hanging from his mouth.

Andersen was well aware of his dæmon's fury. "Yes, Andreas." He glanced up in the rear view mirror as Andreas took another chunk of fabric in his mouth. "Stop chewing on that now! Before you tear a fang out!" He could already feel an ache in his teeth, but whether that was from him clenching them or Andreas destroying the robe, he didn't know. But he wasn't taking any chances.

With a huff Andreas spit out the cloth and swiped smaller pieces from his jowls. I want her head.

Andersen gripped the steering wheel. He knew anger could lead him to do something he regretted, but he had to agree with Andreas. He wanted Integra Hellsing's head on a silver platter.

~O~

Grinsley had his doubts. So did Kai-ren. He could feel it. The two and their counterparts had been assigned partners for years, and in all that time they had always been happy to carry out any orders they were given. But this...this was different. There was something evil about this.

He was sure Heinkel had her doubts about this mission, too, but she kept her thoughts to herself. It was the one thing Grinsley disliked about his counterpart. She took orders without question, no matter the nature of the assignment. Why, he didn't know, but he wished Heinkel would question her superiors more often, especially now. She knew what was happening now was wrong, but she was doing nothing to stop it.

Is she weak or stupid? Grinsley wondered, glancing up at his counterpart, seated on the bench lining one side of the helicopter. She was silent, arms crossed, a cigarette hanging from one corner of her mouth. She occasionally rolled it back and forth between her teeth, lost in thought.

Grinsley snorted, turned to Kai-ren. The lion dæmon was seated on the floor next to him, as quiet as their counterparts. What do you think about this?

The lion looked up, startled out of his thoughts. About what?

This. Grinsley discreetly nodded his head toward the Paladins sitting further down the line, sweeping his eyes over the ones sitting toward the front. What we're doing.

Kai-ren sighed thoughtfully. I don't know. But I have my doubts, just as you do.

Grinsley turned away, tensed. Kai-ren and Yumie were no better than Heinkel. They never questioned orders, either. Why was Grinsley the only one who paid attention to his doubts? Why did the rest find that so hard? If they knew it was wrong, why didn't they say so?

With a frustrated sigh, Grinsley sank to his stomach. When this was over, he would forgive his counterpart for her participation. But only after he had a nice talk with her.

About Codlan and Anna, among other things.

~O~

The dark fury in Andersen and Andreas' eyes made Maxwell jump as the doors to his office were slammed opened and the pair stormed in. The Irish wolfhound's fir bristled; Andersen's hands were closed around the handles of a pair of bayonets.

Calidor backed away, eyes wide, and ducked behind Maxwell's chair. Enrico...

Maxwell held up a hand, reassuring his dæmon. I'll deal with this. He stood to greet Andersen, though he didn't speak right away, mindful of his words. The Paladin's grip on the bayonets was tight, as though he wouldn't hesitate to use them at any moment.

"Andersen," Maxwell said slowly. "What happened?"

"Rafael is dead," the Paladin answered immediately. There was a layer of grief in his voice that Maxwell had never heard before. It reminded him just how fond of children Andersen was, and for the first time he felt a pang of guilt. But he pushed it away, reminding himself that this needed to be done, no matter the cost.

The end justifies the means, Machiavelli wrote. But what means included betraying the man who raised you?

Andersen will understand someday, when Hellsing has fallen and their unholy creature no longer roams the streets.

"I'm sorry to hear that." The words carried far more weight than Maxwell expected them to. Yes, he had a lot to be sorry for, but he wasn't willing to admit that to Andersen. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Let me go to England," Andersen requested. "I need to have a talk with Integra Hellsing."

Maxwell sighed, suppressing a shiver of anticipation. This was what he had planned for. It was just a shame he had to continue to lie to Andersen.

"Request granted," Maxwell answered. "Do what you need to do."

"Thank you, sir." Andersen's grip lightened on the bayonet handles, but his voice was still thick.

Would he have been the same way if that had been you? The though surprised Maxwell before he could stop it, and he found himself wondering what it might be like without Calidor at his side. Calidor had always been there for him, more so since his parents abandoned him to the Church. There was a time when he had been Maxwell's only companion, and he didn't know what he would have done without Calidor then.

It was a sudden, unexpected, and unwelcomed look into the minds of the children who had been losing their dæmons.

But it has to be done, Maxwell told himself firmly, trying to shake the thought. Could it have been Calidor trying to make him see reason? It has to be done. There's no other way.

"Sir?"

Maxwell looked up, forgetting that Andersen was still there. "Yes?"

"Is there anyone available for back up?"

"Yes," Maxwell answered hastily, not considering the nature of the question. "I'll send someone if you need me to. Heinkel and Yumie are available if you require them."

Andersen didn't answer right away. Was he calmer now than before? And were his eyes narrowed in suspicion or was that just Maxwell imagining things?

"Unless you have someone else in mind?" The name "Marna Hadrian" momentarily flashed through Maxwell's mind, but he thought better of it. He needed her in Rome.

"No," Andersen replied quickly. "Heinkel and Yumie will do."

"As you wish." Maxwell sat down, relieved that the situation had deescalated some. "When do you plan on leaving?"

"Now. I won't wait until another child goes missing."

Perfect.

"I'll have a helicopter ready and waiting for you."

The Paladin said nothing as he turned to leave, but Andreas cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder at Maxwell and Calidor.

They'll understand some day.

~O~

"And you're positive they're Catholic?"

"Yes. There may be dozens of other Christian sects who wear crosses, but none of them are as concerned about Dust as Catholics are."

"Do you have any idea what group this might be?"

"No. but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough."

~O~

Walter anxiously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. After walking Integra to the meeting room, he had gone back to the car to wait for her. Ever since then, he'd been looking out the window every few seconds, wondering when "the hard part" was going to be taken care of. He hadn't been given a time, only a day: today, when Integra was meeting with the Round Table. Today, when her absence at the mansion left her vulnerable.

"I would have preferred to do this myself," he grumbled absently.

Bentley, sitting in the passenger seat, snorted in disagreement. Delivering Integra to the Major? The little girl you've just about called your own for so long? You wouldn't have been able to do it.

With a sigh, Walter looked out the windows again. "I would have known she was safe."

And after you handed her over to Millennium? Bentley countered.

Walter looked at him once and turned away, knowing his dæmon was right. But he wanted to hold onto Integra for as long as he could, keep her safe for as long as he could, because he knew that the minute he let her out of his sight, Integra was going to be destroyed in one way or another. Bentley had been right: He was going to destroy her.

"Is it too late to turn back?" he asked.

Now? Bentley clarified. Yes. It's too late. You can't back out now even if you wanted to. The Major has bloody assigned someone to take Integra. You can't protect her now. He shook his head in disappointment. I told you this would happen, Walter.

You did. Walter turned away, unable to face his dæmon. Yes, Bentley had told him time and time again when he had agreed to this plot that there would be a time when the situation had gone too far. But, as always, he had never listened, convinced that there would still be time to turn back before Integra got hurt. Now it was too late, and Integra was going to pay for it.

He stared out the driver's side window, seeing his reflection and beside it twelve year old Integra's smiling face and big blue eyes. Her smile was real, and for once in a long time she looked truly happy. Then he saw her holding a younger version of Illiad, cradling the little dæmon against her chest. This was the little girl he had raised. It was the same little girl he was sending to her doom.

Walter reached up to wipe his eyes, just realizing how teary they were. Integra's reflection faded, leaving him staring at his own reflection. That was one of the few times he had seen Integra smile since she had been knighted and took control of Hellsing. And considering the circumstances, it would be one of the last.

Start the car.

Walter turned at the sound of Bentley's voice. "What?"

Start the car. She's coming. Bentley nodded to the staircase of the meeting hall. Integra was walking steadily down the stairs, Illiad perched on her shoulder. There was a mixture of relief and annoyance written on the young knight's face. She got into the car without a word.

"I know that look," Walter said, glancing up in the rear view mirror as he turned the key in the ignition. Integra had Illiad in her lap and was gently massaging the Russian Blue's tail.

Giza, Illiad spat, wrenching her tail from Integra's hand. That insufferable mange-breeder! Next time I'll have her on her backside. What gives her the right to stomp on my tail? And what's worse- she hurt Integra in the process!

Walter was only half-surprised that Integra didn't stop Illiad's rant. The pair had endured Giza's harassment for years. It was no surprise Illiad was as furious as she was.

It bothered Walter at the same time, though, that Giza's harassment had hurt Integra. It seemed as though the Egyptian Mau forgot the two were attached...and all he could think of then was what Integra had to face.

He pushed the thought out of his mind and drove out onto the street. Another glance into the rear view mirror saw Integra massaging Illiad's tail again, the dæmon's head resting on her heart.

What a shame it wouldn't last.

~O~

Integra took comfort in knowing that the Round Table was on alert for Catholic fanatics for the next time a child went missing. There wasn't much they could do until then, and Integra knew that, but she was relieved that they were at least aware of the gravity of the situation. What they would do from there, she didn't know. She only hoped she would see some promising results within the next few weeks, or better yet, days. This had been going on too long. She wanted to see it come to an end soon.

She leaned back against the seat and shut her eyes. For the first time in two years since this nightmare began she felt a sense of relief. In some way, she was getting closer to the bottom of it.

Illiad sighed against her chest, trailing off into a content purr. For the first time in a while she was as relaxed as Integra. It was a nice and welcomed change from the stress they had been under for so long.

Perhaps I'll sleep better at night, Integra mused.

Wouldn't that be nice, Illiad agreed, picking up on the thought. You could use a good night's sleep or two.

Integra opened her eyes just long enough to scoop Illiad into her arms from her lap. The dæmon let out a little mrrow of surprise as Integra's hands slipped under her stomach and picked her up. But she settled in without issue, her nose pushed into Integra's neck. Illiad's nose was cold, but every shiver up her spine was near and dear to her.

Illiad was still with her, and that was all that mattered.

~O~

Integra knew she had dozed off when she woke suddenly to what she thought was the sound of Bentley growling. But Illiad didn't react, and the sound was so faint that Integra thought nothing of it, and dozed off again.

~O~

When Integra fully came around a second time, it was to the sight of a dwindling number of houses that was slowly fading into the English country side. At best, they were fifteen minutes from Hellsing.

Bentley's growling had died down and quieted entirely; it only occurred to her that the sound had come from him at all when she looked and saw the fur between his shoulders standing on end. He was on alert, looking for something he couldn't seem to find. Walter seemed equally tense, his eyes searching the road and the area around it.

Illiad? Integra asked. Do you notice anything unusual about Walter and Bentley?

Her dæmon stirred in her arms, but only slightly. She opened one blue eye halfway and scanned the pair in the front seat.

Yes, she said, narrowing her eye. And this time it seems you do, too. She adjusted herself in Integra's arms. Bentley—

Just as Bentley's name left her mouth, the left front tire exploded in a puff of air and rubber, sending the car swerving as Walter tried to keep it steady. Bentley was slammed into the door; Integra and Illiad were thrown sideways, with Integra managing to keep her hold on Illiad with one arm as the car swung one way to another. It finally came to a stop with its front end jutting out in the middle of the road. The only good to come out of it, aside from them being alive and relatively unharmed, was the lack of other cars on the road. It made for fewer problems, although in a way it put them in something of a dangerous situation.

Outside of the mansion, even with Walter at her side and Alucard not far away, Integra was vulnerable, and the six of them knew that.

It was enough to make Integra doubt that they had simply run over a shard of glass or a misplaced nail. There was something more going on here.

She leaned over to look out the window as Illiad clambered up onto her shoulder. She didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, although Bentley seemed to sense something she couldn't. The foxhound dæmon stood and turned anxious circles in the passenger seat.

"Bentley?" she asked, turning away from the window. "What—"

"Get out of the car."

Integra whirled around to find a black pistol pointed at her head. It, like its owner, appeared to have come out of nowhere, as did a number of other figures pointing similar guns at the car who Integra could see from the corner of her eye.

So you've brought reinforcements, then? No matter. They may have had guns, but she had Walter.

She opened her mouth to give him the order to tear the bastards to shreds, when Illiad's claws pricked her shoulder.

Integra!

Integra shifted her eyes in her dæmon's direction, but didn't turn her head. What is it?

There! Around her neck!

Hm? Integra followed the tip of the gun to the owner's hand, then up their arm to their face, and found a short-haired blonde woman staring down at her from behind a pair of green-tinted sunglasses. From there, Integra followed a pale string around the woman's neck to a wooden cross at the end. Her breath caught in her throat.

They all had crosses around their necks, like the one on your bow.

Suddenly Integra could only focus on nothing more than the simple wooden cross dangling from the woman's neck. She was face to face with the people who had been abducting and severing children. She was surrounded. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Even if Walter cut them all to pieces, there were still more…they would still find her….

My gun. Where the hell is my gun?

It was as though Integra's mind had completely separated from her body. They weren't cooperating. She couldn't reach her gun.

There were only a few times she could name in her life when Integra had been rendered completely immobilized by fear. It was rare, even, but this was one of those times. She couldn't give Walter an order. She couldn't call for Alucard. She couldn't move. All she could do was sit and stare at the woman outside her car.

"Well?" the woman demanded in a light German accent.

And I think she had a…a German accent…

"Didn't you hear me?"

Oh, and she wore all black, like a robe or something, I think…

"Get out of the car!"

Integra's body still refused to cooperate, and by the time she fully registered what was happening, she was being dragged from the car. Illiad's claws were still tight to her overcoat, and when the woman yanked Integra out of her seat, the overcoat and Illiad were left behind in the car.

Integra couldn't hold back a scream of surprise as she hit the ground and was pulled up into the woman's arms into something of a chokehold. She spotted the woman's wolf dæmon as he leapt forward to meet a smaller blue shape that had shot out from the car. She watched as Illiad, hissing and spitting furiously, stood her ground against a dæmon three times her size.

As Integra struggled in her captor's arms, Illiad swiped at the wolf dæmon, but missed. The wolf lunged at her with a growl and narrowly missed Illiad's flank.

In return, Illiad took another swipe at the wolf, claws extended, and landed a heavy blow on his muzzle.

Both the wolf and his counterpart let out yelps of pain. While the wolf snarled and lunged at Illiad again, his counterpart pulled Integra up and landed a heavy blow on her ribcage with the butt of her gun that left Integra sprawled in the grass, her vision flashing white. She could barely make out the sounds of the commotion going on around her.

Another blow to her ribcage had her seeing black.

Just as the woman took a handful of Integra's hair and pulled her up, Integra felt a sudden rush of nausea and dizziness; all the strength rushed out of her and she had an overwhelming sense of disgust. It wasn't until she was in the woman's chokehold again that she knew why.

One of the Paladins was holding Illiad.

This was different than when Samson had touched Illiad. That had been gentle, done with care, and done in a way that didn't cross Integra's comfort zone. But this…this was deliberate, calculated, cruel. This was done to cause Integra the most pain and discomfort possible.

"Illi—hmphmm!" She was cut off by a cloth being held over her nose and mouth. She only had to take one breath to know that it was laced with something.

Integra held her breath, but her captor's chokehold tightened, forcing her to inhale. With air, she took in a lungful of whatever chemical laced the cloth. She shook her head in protest, trying to rid herself of the cloth. But between the effect of the chemicals and the forbidden physical contact with her dæmon, there was nothing she could do.

She was watching the world in front of her grow darker and more blurry with each breath. Even her mind was getting cloudier, with her only clear thought being of Alucard. Where was he? Why hadn't he come to help her? Didn't he know what was going on?

Illiad, Illiad…

Get off her…

Alu…Alu…

Her vision was growing dimmer, and soon she couldn't see anything at all.

…card…

A/N: Two things:

First, when in doubt, blame Integra Hellsing.

Second, no one is safe.

(I have the next two chapters done, having done them ahead of time when I was jumping around and working backward on this story, but it might be a while before they go up because of some reediting issues. Their being written first has lead to some plot holes and things that don't really make sense, so I'll be fixing those. It's going to be the same process for two other chapters that are already done. I know I don't update regularly at all, but if it seems like I'm taking an insane amount of time to update this, it's because I'm wrestling with a pre-written chapter that's giving me a hard time.

Also, when I said I was going on a wrecking spree, I meant it. I've already wrecked Integra and Andersen, now it's Walter's turn, and I seem to be slowly chipping away at Maxwell. Fight me.)

OH! I have visual representations of the Hellsing cast and their daemons up on my tumblr (dragon-of-dc), so head on over there and check it out! You can find the link in the side bar on the left side of my blog (Hellsing Cast and their Daemons). I'd put the link here, but you wouldn't be able to copy-and-paste, and it would be a pain to type all the numbers and everything into the search bar.