Van Helsing: Resurrection
By Yami no Ryu
Rated: PG-13
Summary: It's two months after the defeat of Dracula. Van Helsing is called on to stop a necromancer. Joining him are two very unlikely allies: Daemon and Trin Winfell, American demon hunters. But they hide secrets, and Helsing's past is restless; what will happen?
Author's Note: Gabriel Van Helsing will be called the afore mentioned, Van Helsing, Helsing, or Gabriel. Just to clear up any confusion.

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CHAPTER 1: The Assignment

"Most people, when they see me, I can hear their hearts speed up…" His hands beat a fast tattoo against each other, quickening as he got closer to the hunter--or was he the hunted? He couldn't tell, not now. Not with him.
"But you," he continued, slowing the rap to a slow, even, steady pace, "Do not even flinch…"
He stepped out of his hiding place, with his breathing and heartbeat even and controlled; like the other had said.
"Ah, Gabriel…don't you remember me?"
He stayed silent.
"We have such history, you and I…"
"…Such history…"
"…such history…"

Gabriel Van Helsing woke with a start, sweat-soaked and breathing hard. The nightmare…Dracula's voice, haunting him. Taunting him. Teasing him with secrets and lost memories. He remembered what he had said, not two months ago: "Sometimes things are better left forgotten." He wished he could believe that, now.
"Gabriel Van Helsing, if you don't get up right this instant--"
"I'm up!" Helsing replied heatedly, wincing at the loud noise in his dark, silent room. Sometimes, Carl really did grate on his nerves. "Tell Cardinal Jinette I'll be there as soon as I am able."
There was the sound of shuffling, and then silence. Alone once more, Van Helsing closed his eyes. But there was Dracula again, sneering at him from the darkness. With a groan, Helsing got out of bed.
Fifteen minutes later, he was following Cardinal Jinette down to the secret room. His hair was tied into a low ponytail--he discovered that it was easier to work with it out of his face. His long coat was draped haphazardly over his toned frame, tojo blades tucked up the sleeves and pistols in their holsters at the waist. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he watched the friars and monks with detached amusement. They look like squirrels or chipmunks, running around, always with something and something more to do, he thought.
"What am I after, and how do I kill it?" he asked wearily.
"We…don't know," the Cardinal said. "We know it can control or raise the dead, or both."
Such blasphemy! Helsing thought sarcastically, but in reality he didn't relish fighting a creature who did either. "Is that all?"
Jinette looked indignant, and replied, "There's nothing in our records of this ever happening. There is no precedent for us to gather information from."
Van Helsing frowned. "Well, it can't be worse than Dracula, can it?" he asked rhetorically. "Where is it?"
"London," the Cardinal replied.
"London. Why is it always London? Why not Beijing? Or Brussels?" Helsing muttered. The Cardinal ignored him. When Helsing saw that he wouldn't get any more information from Cardinal Jinette, he turned to find Carl among the rabble. It didn't take that long, he had only to follow the sound of either exploding or angry yelling. Or both, Helsing thought, when it comes to Carl.
"Van Helsing," Carl greeted distractedly. He was examining some yellow goop with one of his lenses.
"Carl--"
"Hold on a second, Van Helsing," Carl interrupted.
"--what do I need?" Gabriel finished.
"Besides patience?" Carl asked, turning to Helsing. "I don't know. Nobody does. You can hack them to pieces," Carl moved to a different table, Helsing followed, "but they'll still be alright. The thing with them is that since they're dead, they can't feel pain, and so incapacitation doesn't hurt them in the least. Neither do normal bullets, or arrows."
"Then how do I get rid of them?" Helsing asked, following Carl to yet another table.
"Fire," Carl said. "Or Holy Water, but that's harder to come by."
"Yes, and I can start a fire out of thin air," Van Helsing said sarcastically.
"With some of my new devices, you can come pretty close," Carl said proudly. He picked up an iron box, and lifted the lid. "These," he said, taking one out, "are my latest invention: fire bullets. The bullet is made of glass, and will break on anything it hits. Inside is a special concoction, loosely based off of the Greek Fire. It too ignites on contact." He gave one to Helsing. Gabriel turned it over in his hand, noting a reddish cast to the dark substance.
"What's Greek Fire?" Helsing asked absently, as he put the bullet back into the case. Then he slipped it into his bag.
Ah, now I remember. This is the stuff Carl showed me before I left for Transylvania, Helsing thought. "Hold on, I'm getting to it," Carl said, shaking a finger at the demon hunter's impatience. He grabbed a small vial next, holding a strangely familiar yellow mixture. "This is the final product of something I've been working on for months--it explodes on whatever it hits."Maybe, if I had some of that when I went-- Helsing cut himself off before he could continue. That's dangerous ground, Gabriel Van Helsing. Steer clear of it.
Helsing took the exploding solution and slipped it into a protective leather bag, and into his pack. "And the Greek Fire?"
"Don't you have any of the seven virtues?" Carl asked despairingly. Van Helsing only smirked at him. Carl frowned. "Greek Fire is a type of fire that uses water as fuel."
"That's interesting," Helsing said, "and useful."
Carl handed him another iron box. He opened it, and saw glass spheres with red-orange liquid inside. "How do I put it out?"
"Use your head," Carl said brusquely. Helsing blinked, then set the Greek Fire box inside his bag very, very carefully.
Van Helsing looked over at his crossbow. "Do you happen to have any fire-arrows?"
"You'll have to do those the conventional way, Van Helsing," Carl said.
"You know very well that's impossible with my crossbow!" Helsing exclaimed.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't have the time to make anything more! The American government sprang this on us quite suddenly; we waited until the last possible moment to tell you because it's so dangerous!"
"Like that ever mattered before," Helsing shot back. Carl threw up his hands in aggravation.
"We've never wanted you killed, Van Helsing," he explained hotly.
"Oh, yes. That's why you sent me on a pleasure tour to Transylvania to fight Count Vladislaus Dracula," Helsing sneered.
"That was different," Carl murmered.
"I think you just don't want to accept that I am expendable, and have always been expendable," Helsing said, a little too forcefully. His blood boiled; he had done so much for the church and for God, and yet they still treated him as if he could be replaced in an instant. "Start accepting it, because I won't always be lucky, and one day I might not come back at all."
With that, Gabriel stormed out of the lair of the secret Vatican society, out of Saint Peter's Basilica, out into the cold Italian night. He mounted one of the black mares, tied his bag to the saddle, and rode away. And he thought, I just hope this isn't the day I don't come back.