Keeping my promise is putting my work on here! This is something I've had rolling around in my head for a bit; I was pushed to finally do it after seeing a fic on here with the same premise!

This is gonna be very experimental, and VERY canon divergent. alot of experimenting with Seras as someone who's been a vampire for centuries, and Alucard as a human in the late 90s, while keeping character. I noticed quite a few people complaining about using Vlad as a name as being very cliche, so with the name I chose I wished to still keep him Romanian, to keep as close to his character as possible.

Things will be fleshed out as I go along, such as if I want millennium involved or not.

If you want to talk about Hellsing or Seras or Seras, feel free to catch me at maiiart on tumblr!

Integra had never truly pondered on her father's fascination with vampires, although she really should have.

Everyone had odd likings. Her nanny was quite fond of those dime paperbacks with dramatic and flamboyant covers, and once when Integra had snuck a peek into one she had quickly concluded that it was mindless drivel.

Her father had pounded endlessly into her skull the fact of how dangerous nosferatu were. Dangerous, cunning, powerful, the enemy of mankind and something to be feared and hated.

Yet, as she turned and saw the withered corpse was no longer a withered corpse, but a woman bent over with a serpentine tongue out to lap the spilt blood on the concrete floor, she felt no fear. She felt no hate.

The eyes that bore into her own were most assuredly not human, but they were kind and gentle, and a lit with relief that the girl she was shielding was, for the most part, alright. Even the prompt transformation from soothing to murderous, once Richard had gathered his bearings, did nothing to stir any negative feelings in the young orphan.

"What did my father call you?" was her question to the creature once everything was said and done.

Said creature smiled. It exposed deadly canines, but her smile was not one of malice, not one to ignite any fear. She was very unlike the horrific, mad creatures of bloodlust Integra's father had told her of. In spite of the blood from the massacre that was starting to absorb into her pale skin.

"Just Seras is fine, Master."

Everything had occurred so fast, too fast for comprehension, that the time frame between the point where he had been unloading bullets into the men he had worked with for months and the point where his gaze was forced into the night sky, chest wound raw and gaping and sending blood bubbling into his mouth, felt like it was no more than a few sparse seconds.

Reckless. Arrogant. A green novice who was reprimanded more than once for his overzealous attitude ('We're not in America, boy', was the phrase often thrown his way), far too eager to run out, guns blazing, even as the old black and white zombie movies he watched when he was an actual boy began to come to life around him ('You're so keen on spending everyday fantasizing about shooting the bad guys, why the hell did you join a cop squad in a rural town out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere', was another sentiment he heard quite a bit.)

Who knows. Maybe he was somehow aware that a future job of checking out the odd disappearances surrounding a church would turn out to be zombies and fucking vampires, giving him that perverse excitement a many a thrill seekers sought out.

Unfortunately it didn't end the way one would fantasize about. Not that he wasn't willing to fight to his last breath, even after all of his ammo was gone (the last clip had been sent into the priest), furious over the matter and seeing red. Distantly he could hear the sounds of talking -yelling from the vampire, calmed discussion from a second party-, of more gunshots, and even more distantly he could register that there was someone else with them. Someone else beyond the ghouls.

Then his ears were deafened by the largest blast yet, and it was here he found himself sprawled on the ground. Warmth of blood and the agony of pain taking over his senses, eyes drawn to the moon. How large it was tonight, crimson and bulbous and soon masked over by a figure, looming over his broken body.

Red will-o-wisps surveyed him. Another vampire, was the curt thought, supplied by a slowly dying brain.

A voice broke the now still night, nothing like he would have imagined. The priest's inflection had been alternatively high pitched and guttural, the crazed tone of a person drunk on death and power. He had shrieked his intentions, the sort of fellow who enjoyed just hearing his own voice.

"You didn't seem to hear me."

Soft.

"So I'm afraid I had to take the shot anyway."

Female.

"It was either me, or that blighter would've taken you out. I would prefer me."

Distinctly British.

The figure leaned in closer, and briefly his fading vision managed to re-focus. He could make out a halo of blonde hair, the edges lit up by the edges of the moon.

"I can help you if you wish to live, which I imagine you would, if you answer my question properly this time. Are you a virgin?"

If it were any other situation, he would have laughed - honestly he still felt like laughing, but with the whole 'hole in the chest' thing going on, he doubted it would help his quickly dwindling life span. It would hurt far too much, and he wouldn't be able to answer her question; and what a question it was. Dying in the grass with his entire squad long dead themselves, and a strange lady (vampire) asks him if he was chaste.

Yet once the humour of the scenario had dissipated, he was only left with one thing, pulling into every single one of his steadily draining veins.

He had fought for his safety as a child,

- memories he did not want to steep on often, but kept him motivated and moving -

forcefully pushed himself into the police force of, yes, a hicktown cop squad,

-all xenophobic attitdes pushed towards him aside -

,killed his own coworkers once they decided their sights were aimed towards devouring him, and fought against the one that had turned them undead in the first place, regardless of the obvious difference in strength, a rabbit going up against a war canon.

He did not do all of these things, only to die shortly afterwards. The will to survive was strong, instilled deeply and historically into his still human blood.

And he was a virgin.

An incline of the head, the small movement forced and laborious, and a trembling,red-soaked hand rising upwards was his answer.

The woman smiled. Her fangs glinted. She knelt, and pulled him against her lap as if he weighed nothing.

Gloved fingers brushed delicately through his hair. His ponytail had come loose during the fray, and the idle stroking through the black tresses quietly reminded him of a time where everything was far better than it was now.

"It's such a beautiful night, isn't it," the girl breathed. It truly was, the moon above appearing to both be of the super and blood sort. He wasn't sure if these two natural phenomena could occur at the same time. And around the natural nightlight glittered the expanse of stars, unmasked due to the small town's lack of light pollution. It made him think of home.

Only his laboured breathing interrupted the stillness of the early morning. The vampire's face was now dipped down, mouth opening, and he felt something sharp against his neck.

"This will only hurt for a moment."

The knife-live objects (fangs), dug in, breaking through flesh as if it were made out of rice paper. His body jerked, eyes bulging, and oh it somehow hurt a lot more than being shot with something that left a bowling ball sized hole in his body, making him writhe as his breath was cut off, the audible sounds of liquid being drawn through two straws pounding endlessly through his ears. Fire drew through his bloodstream.

Mercifully the fire was soon replaced by a more pleasant sort of warmth, akin to drinking soup on a cold day. The agony of his wound had melted away, and like one receiving anaesthetic after a particularly bad accident, he quickly found himself slipping away.

"Seras. I've known you for a decade now. Walter had known you for even longer. We are well familiar with your history before Hellsing. And you have never shown any interest in raising a fledgling."

The sun was on the rise, sending flares of deep red and pink above. Seras was well aware of how her Master would react to seeing her ambling along the field back towards base, holding a man twice her size in her arms. Bundled all up in a blanket as well.

It was as wonderful as she expected. How rare it was to gather an actually amusing response from the Iron Maiden, and Integra's eyes widening and mouth opening was absolutely perfect. She even managed to drop her cigar!

"There's a first time for everything!" Seras chirped, as she rummaged through the unconscious man's pockets for a form of identification. She didn't have to look to know that Integra's mouth was curling with doubt.

"Seras."

"He was dying, and he wanted to live. I had the ability to grant that wish - well, he's technically alive - and he deserved it." With a noise of triumph, she pulled out what appeared to be a wallet."Not many humans would come across a vampire and have 'shoot the hell out of them' as their first instinct, after watching their co-workers get turned into ghouls."

A lighter clicked behind her, followed by a sigh. It spelled out defeat, a clear message of sometimes I don't understand what the fuck is going on in your blonde head. "He's your responsibility, then."

Seras tilted her head, grin cheeky. "I'll be sure to housetrain him, and walk him every day."

Her Master snorted ruefully in response, and Seras opted for finding the name of her new childe rather than continuing to goad the bespectacled woman. Flipping the wallet open immediately gave her a driver's license.

"Vilhelm," Seras pronounced aloud, rolling the letters experimentally through her mouth, quite unsure if she was even pronouncing it correctly. The structure of the name sounded familiar, a language that she had known once upon a time. One of her age had plenty of time to roam across Europe, experience the cultures and people and tongue, but one of her age had also lived long enough that they all tended to melt together to the point where she often couldn't recall what came from where. Always on the tip of her tongue.

She didn't bother looking at his last name. He no longer needed it.

Instead she looked to the sun, on the cusp of the horizon. It was brilliant, hues of red and orange and pink and purple and white flung through the expansion above, warm and inviting.

Unlike other vampires, unlike the one that she had just killed, Seras would not explode into fire as the giant star rose.

Unlike other vampires, Seras found the sun compelling and wonderful and beautiful. Sunlight had a smell, and it invited her to bask in it, tranquilizing tiredness it placed onto her aside.

Her freshly transformed fledgling continued to rest peacefully, protected by the light by both the blanket and his Master's power, now flowing through every one of his cells. He too would not burst into flames.

Seras turned to the rest of the small camp that had been set up, watching as men folded up chairs and took down tents. Her hand moved to the ex-police man's head, tangling her fingers through black hair. He didn't stir, even as their ride back to the manor made its way up the grass.

The butler - her old friend, the Angel - cocked a brow as he stepped out of the vehicle, and Seras could only smile wider as she pulled the sleeping man back into her arms. It really must have been quite the sight, her short stature swamped by a bundle of a person who must have had a bit more of a foot over her.

Integra's expression was one that silently ordered Walter to not question things just yet, and Seras' mouth continued to split across her face.

"Let's take Vilhelm back home, shall we?"