The day was nearly coming to an end.

It was the natural way of things; rising, living, then dying. It was natural, good, and beautiful. It was to be envied. And appreciated while it lasted. He tried to remind himself of that every day while he had anything left to worry about.

Now the day was almost over. But his never ending twilight, his forever lasting dusk was nowhere near the end. Wasn't it him, Alucard, who told a human some long time ago, that for them one day the sun will set, but they will not see it rise again? He now thought it was a clumsy metaphore. Some only see the sun rise, and not see it set ever again. He had not hopes for either: he will see all the sunsets, and all the sunrises. A maddening, vicious cycle, and yet, the humans still yearned for it.

Humans.

Fragile. Foolish. Two features that should not go together.

And yet there was a time when he wanted to be fragile and foolish, he wanted what the humans had, and would have gladly given qu his forever twilight to not see the dusk again. That time has passed. That passion was gone. The loss... was all too familiar. He held onto it, like it was the last entity keeping him company.

There was a time... how long ago exactly? He didn't know. He forgot. It all became a mess of tangled thoughts and memories, faces, distant voices. Not even a half vampire could remember it all.

He lived dozens of lives, yet he only ever wanted one. He lived that life for some time, and it was good, but it passed all too soon, and worse still: it passed without him. His life died and he stayed, like a shell of memories and an emptiness that consumed everything. It felt like it was a long time ago, and yet sometimes, like that afternoon he spent sitting on the brim of the highes tower of his castle, it seemed only yesterday that he was human.

He felt like what he imagined being human must be like during that first fifty years after the city of Belmont was founded. Well, they called it a city. It was more of a humble village or town, guarded by the mostrous black crow, the castle of Dracula. People got used to them, the castle and Alucard, sometimes too much so. He remembered the first time one of the children embraced him around his thighs; he was too small to reach any higher. This small, defensless, orphan child wasn't hesitant or afraid, like he himself felt at that moment. It was only natural to the child. That moment he persuaded himself, that this was indeed natural. He had a community, he had people who trusted him, and damn, he even had friends.

But how could he be part of anything, if he couldn't die with it? If he cannot be consumed by the unstoppae rolling of centuries? If nobody remembers him, because nobody can grow old enough to remember him. Time spat him out. He was the only one left with the bourden of remembrance. It was him alone who had to bare it. Every year he looked into the mirror, and got more worried each time. It was a quietly rumbling anxiety, seethrough by daylight, but when nighttime came, it festered, pierced the heart with its icy spikes of frustration, and one could only beg for mercy when it released its suffering on the tormented soul. He was looking for some change, a mark that time has left on his face, but that image in the mirror, no matter how hard he pleaded, always looked the same. Nothing was stronger than this damned body his mother suffered to give birth to. Rock melted by the touch of water, iron rustled into thin powder, even ideas and faith, the two strongest things mankind could create... There wasn't anything that could withstand the fury of time; nothing but him. He floated above a constantly mouldering world, distant, but not distant enough for him to be unbothered by it.

Inbetween. What a terrible place to be. Not human enough to live like a human, and not beast enough to live like a vampire.

He stood, his bright blonde hair and waving cape catching fire in the last trail of light of the blazing red sun. He used to take young Trevor up here to catch the sunset. He kept on looking into the sun, no matter how much it burned his eyes; like father, like son. Brave, stubborn, and incredibly stupid. The memories drew a smile on his lips. He felt like it was yesterday when he was able to convince Sypha for the first time to bring young Trevor up here, to the brim of the tallest tower of the castle.

He never once envied Belmont's family; he never needed to. He was part of it. The three of them, Trevor, Sypha and him often laughed over the strange course of actions which lead to a Belmont and a Tepes consider each other family. Well, he and Trevor laughed, Sypha just shook her head and said:

'It is only natural! We are all the same: we need company, friends and family. The name of your house can't get close to even scratching our human nature!'

'Except that this fucker here is only half human,' Trevor Belmont chuckled, which could have honestly been a burp too, since they have been professionally drinking for a while that evening.

Alucard smiled now and smiled then. 'You're barely human yourself. You had so much beer that it makes up more of your mass now than flesh and bones.'

'It's a form of art, what can I say.'

Belmont was a good father. Loved his children, taught them how to fight and how to respect their mother, because it was sure as hell that they didn't want to mess with her. When the children grew old enough to be left alone for a couple of months, Belmont and Sypha set out on trip, hunting the leftover rogue night creatures, vampires and other beasts, while Alucard stayed and teach the younglings. They were like the siblings he never had, and he was the child he didn't have enough time to live as. All of the three Belmont children were different from each other. Young Trevor was of course hopeless, with a passion for shiny, sharp objects so strong, that even with vampire powers it was hard to keep him away from the armory. James, two years younger than Trevor, cared for nothing but books and old drawings of all kinds of creatures. He only climbed up from the Belmont library to eat and sleep. And then there was the youngest, sweet little Greta, the tiny blonde demon, her mother's pride and his father's joy. She posessed her mother's skills of summoning the natural elements, she was tireless, a true fighter, and above all, as clever as a dozen vampires. He spent most of his time with Greta, he pondered. She was named after Belmont's first chief, Greta of Danesti.

Greta died a few years after they defeated the vampires in the siege of the castle. There was no fight or suffering. One day she collapsed onto the ground and she never woke up. A cruel joke on fate's part. She deserved to grow old or to die a heroic death in battle, as the fierce, protecting woman she was. Instead, some invisible illnes killed her, a coward shadow, an assasin with no honour. Little Greta inherited her spirit through her name.

Her two beloved Gretas.

The smile faded.

They all grew old so fast. They barely had any time to spend together. But there's never enough time in the end, is it?

He joined the Belmonts on a couple of hunts. This was a rare occasion, since the oldest Belmont complained that the hunt was no fun if it was over in a few seconds. Sypha raphrased his complaint to him:

'I think you should take it a bit slower, Alucard. Just so the children can blow off some steam. You know how hard it is to be a teenager.'

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. He smiled as he remembered how Sypha called him a teenager in an adult body. 'I didn't even realize. I feel like I never leave the castle.'

'It's okay,' said Sypha in a sweet, calming manner. 'There's plenty for everyone. Now!' she shouted on the top of her voice. 'Treffy, where did you put your brains, young man? We have bloody defense moves for a reason! Greta, sweetheart, amazing work on that big, hairy thing. If only others knew, how useful defensive combat can be!' she growled, and turned to the oldest Belmont, who shrunk to half his original size under his wife's gaze.

It was a day just like that, when Sypha died protecting one of her children. It could have been any of them, it didn't matter. She would've jumped in front of them, no matter which one. After the accident, nobody wanted to talk about it anyway, and Alucard was not in the mood of finding out. Truths like this change how we see people, no matter how much we love them. And he was sure that if even unintentionally he looked at one of Sypha's children sideway, she would've burst out of her grave and strangled him.

Her passing hurt just as much the present day as it did the day it happened. The wound cut all the way through her abdomen, and by the time she was carried to the castle, he could do nothing for her, none of the healers could. They all blamed themselves for her death. Trevor Belmont grew bitter and cold, and his loneliness wrapped around him so tightly, that only his children could pierce through it. Alucard... stayed the same, only less. More empty. With each death more and more space got vacant in his heart; those things, whatever they were, feelings, slowly left. Passed, like the souls of his friends. Slipped out of him when he didn't pay attention, or during the night when he was fast asleep. And one day he woke up, with nothing left inside him. Cold, untouchable and completely empty.

Trevor Belmont joined his wife in death a few months... years... maybe decades later. The year didn't matter, the result was the same. And Alucard felt such jealousy and loss as he had never before. Belmont and Sypha were to reunite in either heaven or hell, where they shall find a forever home, a never ending life. And when their children and grandchildren die too, they will join them as well, they will be a family, and Alucard won't be with them, he never will. They were both living forever; why couldn't is be in the same world?

After the jealousy faded, loss stayed. It might have been the longest lasting empotion he had. He got used to it, to a point he didn't even notice it anymore. It was his only company. The only reminder, that he ever had friends.

As he looked down in the dizzying heights, he lay his eyes on the empty houses of Belmont. A city with a name like that should have been, deserved to be full of life. Where were the people? Based on the condition of the houses, the city was possibly empty for a while now. He couldn't piece together the past nor the present. How long was it since Greta, the last surviving Belmont moved on? For a terrifying moment he considered that he might have killed every single person in this city, but then he remembered, that a proper Belmont would have decapitated him for that... right?

It was a depressive thing to realise, that it did not matter either way what happened. Nothing really mattered. Once humans die, it was like they never existed. Their weapons rust and get stolen, their bodies turn to dust, and their memories fade away. By now the very last of the Belmonts could be gone. Or has it only been yesterday, that he buried Trevor Belmont in his family crypt? Sypha layed under an oaktree, somewhere near the river. They were too far away from each other. He wanted to move their graves closer. He made plans for it, but never started the work itself.

He jumped and fell; he considered not stopping before the fatal crash to the ground. You would live, no matter what, you foolish bastard, he thought. So he stopped, floating in plain air, right above the ground. He opened his eyes once here, just like this; he saw children in awe. Now he only saw dead grass and mud. He stared, believing for a second, that if he focused hard enough, he will see them again, standing on the cold ground, their faces cheering up, hands clapping, loudly cheering. They called him father. The beautiful father, the one you should not mess with, the kind, the funny, the Alucard. Where were these children? They could not have all disappear without a trace. His mind was blocking memories from him, but how much? How much did he not remember? He could still see Greta on horseback, with each step farther away from him, but what happened before that and after? Why did she leave? Why did she leave him alone? Why did everyone leave him alone?

He murmured the last protective spell, closing the castle in a bubble of defensive magic he learned from a passing by witch some time ago. The wind was whistling farewell in his ear.

The castle was dark and cold inside. Run-down, just as it was after the siege. They spent a great amount of time and money repairing and cleaning up everything. It was hard and time consuming work, but the result was a warm, inviting place, radiating hope and protection. Over the years he spent alone the castle fell apart bit by bit, like they never touched it.

The gates closed with a loud noise behind him. He walked through the long hallway, and confused for a second, he stared at the three granite tombs. They were so close to each other that their sides touched.

Oh. So in the end he did execute the plan. They probably would have wanted to be next to each other, but he could not bare the thought of not having his friends on his two sides. It felt good, no matter how childish.

He opened his tomb, and crawled inside, where his coffin was inviting him in with a soft embrace. The long sleep was waiting for him, and he was ready to linger in a numbing, empty dream for the rest of eternity. He closed the tomb and the door of his coffin, and finally let out a long sigh. There may come a time when the stone will be pushed away from above him, and his long sleep will be disturbed, but that won't be today, nor tomorrow. And if anyone manages to get past behind the spells he cast on the castle... well, they earned their visit, no matter how unwanted.

'Hush now, away with you! Let the the impermanent death wash me away, and time fade my memories grey!'

And there, with his loving friends on his side, all the suffering he ever felt: finally died.