A/N: A bit more Seras development as she struggles to come to grips with a dark memory stirred up by her growing bond with Hunter, a glimpse at Hunter's past, and the fate of the Millennium group.

Disclaimer: You know, by now you've read enough of these that I won't put any more up.

She stared at the pendant she had draped over her neck. A gesture so simple, and yet was bringing back memories that she didn't know she wanted to remember. There were just painful.

He had left a few minutes ago to grab some food and a pair of bloodpacks. She knew that he would be back soon, but she wondered if she wanted him to. She didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to get hurt herself. It seemed like everyone she interacted with on that level got hurt.

Harry Anders, Helena, and Pip. She had been close to all of them outside of the daily work they did. Now none of them remained, all of them were dead. She heard the scuffle of a small tray against the stone of the corridor, and knew that he was juggling things in his hands so that he could open the door. She phased out of her room before he came in.

She had to go and think for a few minutes. She knew that she had to tell him eventually, but how could she tell him?

How could she admit to something that horrible?

Hunter sat on the edge of the table, wondering why she had left. They had been enjoying the carefree time up to the point where he had decided to get something to eat. He knew that she had been in here as he tried to get the door open. He had sensed the discomfiture, the indecision, the slight tang of fear. He decided to let her be for a short while. When she figured out whatever it was that was bothering her, she'd find him.

He picked up one of the two sandwiches he had brought with him, taking a large bite out of it. Amazing how hungry you would get being unconscious for a day. Plus, it was first class roast beef. You don't turn things like that down.

As he ate, he wondered just what it was that had caused Seras' mood to flip-flop so abruptly.

Alucard looked down at the sleeping form in his arms. He was amazed at just how much things had changed between them. She was still the iron-willed commander of Hellsing, completely capable of blowing a FREAKS' head off without a second thought.

But there was something else there now, something softer, something that hadn't been there since she had taken over the organization those years ago. As she shifted slightly in her sleep, he smiled at the look on her face. He knew it was on his as well.

Part of him rebelled at these feelings. He enjoyed being a monster. It was fun, enjoyable on so many levels that it wasn't even a joke. He enjoyed the looks of fear that some people cast on him as he appeared in their midst. A part of him even enjoyed the cruelty he had inflicted or hinted at inflicting on the Police Girl when she was still a servant vampire.

But he also wanted to be a part of life again. He dealt with life and death so often that he felt as though he was an orphan looking in a window on a cold winter night at a table laden with food. Just some small bit of humanity for the equally small bit of humanity that still sparked inside him.

He felt the light traces of Integra's breath against his chest as she breathed in and out. He smiled at the memories of the 'quiet time' they had spent together. Oh, it hadn't gone as far as he would have liked, but he had to admit that she had an appetite that would be fun exploring. He reached over to the night table and grabbed the small glass that still held a small swallow of brandy in it. They had talked for hours, an almost adult version of 'Truth or Dare' emerging as the night wore on.

The addition of alcohol might not have been the smartest idea, in retrospect. She had expressed things that would have made her blush to think about had she been completely sober. He tossed back the last swallow of brandy, feeling the slight trail of fire as it went down his throat. Not as fulfilling as blood, but it had its virtues.

He slid a bit further down under the blanket, pulling Integra closer. He didn't think that this would have gone as well as it did, but letting her into some of the deeper secrets of his life had eased his worries.

Maybe that was how Hunter had dealt with so many of the things he had done in the past. He had spent six years in the Orient, seeking peace. He knew that his past wasn't anywhere near as virtuous as his present was, but he had come to terms with it.

Alucard smiled. Sharing the burden with Integra meant that he had to help share her burdens as well. But, he thought as he shut his eyes, that didn't seem like all that bad of a prospect. He kissed her on the forehead as he dropped off to sleep as well.

The bullets slammed into the target, the paper form bursting apart. Seras fired several more times, the target falling from the clip that held it up. She reeled it in and posted another target on the clip, sending it back out.

She slid a new clip into her Socom and started firing again. The head and chest of the target blew out, scattering bits of paper across the floor. Her memory flooded back to the fore as they fluttered to the floor and she shut her eyes, trying to force the images out.

"Please, don't ask me that,"

"Seras, you have to,"

"I can't! Don't you understand that?"

"Please!"

She put her pistol down, tears squeezing out from her closed eyes. Damn it, why couldn't she keep the thoughts out? She opened her eyes, feeling the wet trails on her face. She put the Socom away and went to the weapons locker, pulling out the sniper rifle, one similar to the one she had used for so long when she first came into organization. She slid a clip in and scrolled the target out to five hundred meters. She set the rifle up and stared across the barrel, her eyes zooming in on the target. She fired, but missed. Another shot went wide, then the third hit it in the knee.

Then a large hole appeared in the chest area, but she hadn't fired. Turning, she saw Hunter standing behind her, lowering his gun. There was a look of concern in his eyes, of polite wonder.

"If that had been a ghoul, it would have gotten whatever it was going for," he said. "You're too good of a shot to miss like that, Seras. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she said, then remembered the trails of tears on her cheeks. Drat, he had to know what they meant.

Seras, he thought at her.

She phased out, the stock of the rifle clicking on the table. Hunter sighed, cleaned up the area, policing the weapon, and wondered again what was bothering her. He glanced at the target she had set up out in the range, and whipped his other pistol out, firing both as fast as he could pull the triggers. The target ripped free of the clip, then shredded as bullets continued to fly through it as it floated to the ground, winding up as no more than confetti.

He tucked his guns away and leaned back against the partition. Something was most certainly wrong.

But how do you get a recalcitrant vampress to talk to you? He sighed and headed back to the lifts. He had found a bottle of Merlot in the wine cabinet in the kitchen. He hoped that it wasn't an old vintage. He would likely wind up using most of it.

The warehouse was crumbling around them, the pale coloured walls cracking as the weight of the floors above them pressed down. Seras felt a shove between her shoulder blades, causing her to fly forward. She looked back, and saw the beam fall and glance against Pip's back as he ducked forward as well. She rushed to him, helping him up. He leaned against her for several steps, then they reached the main door and rushed out. The rest of their team was battling a group of ghouls, outnumbered by a small margin. They had retreated to a small stanchion and were using it as cover. Seras started heading towards them, Gravedigger clearing its holster.

She knelt on damp grass in front of a low stone marker. The rain dripped all about her, soaking her to the bone, but she didn't care. It hid the tears on her face. She traced a finger along the words carved in the granite.

Pip Bernadette, KIA 5 February, 2004. God rest his soul. In pace requiescat.

"Damn it, why did you have to come back for me?" she whispered. "Why couldn't you have just gotten out? I would have been ok," her voice cracked. She leaned forward and rested her head on the tombstone. She would give anything to hear him call her that annoying nickname right now.

But at the same time, she felt a similar feeling for Hunter. She knew that it was irrational to think that just because they got close he would get hurt. But knowing something intellectually and knowing it in her heart was another thing entirely. The rain around her continued to fall, as did her tears.

Why couldn't she seal her feelings away?

"Where is Miss Victoria?" asked Walter.

Hunter shrugged. "Your guess is likely as good as mine, old friend. Something is bothering her, and she's more or less avoided me since it hit her." He opened another cabinet door and looked inside. Plates and bowls. "Where are the wine glasses?" he asked the butler.

Walter pulled open a cabinet and pulled out two glasses. "I assume you are going to drink that bottle of Merlot in your hand until you either pass out or you have a revelation."

"Probably. Worked last time," he said.

"Last time you were trying to decide what to do since the war was over, not worrying about a friend of yours. In any case," he set both glasses down and sat at the table. "If Miss Victoria wishes to be alone, it is best that you are not, since your concern is apparent." He tapped the top of the glasses, pulling his monocle off and tucking it in a pocket.

Hunter popped the cork from the neck of the bottle and poured the dark wine into both glasses. He raised his and said the same toast they had fifty years ago. "Absent friends," he murmured.

"Absent friends," echoed Walter and sipped the wine in his glass. "Do you know what it is that set her off?"

Hunter shrugged. "I had asked her to tell me about Pip, then I went to get some food and blood. When I came back, she was in emotional turmoil but between the time I reached her door and the time I opened it, she apparated out somewhere. I ran into her at the firing range, and she was covered in tears and missing shots that she wouldn't have missed ordinarily."

"That hardly sounds like Miss Victoria," Walter said. "She was never this prone to tears, not even when Alucard was being his most brutal self to her."

"Agreed," Hunter sipped his wine, then swirled it around in his glass, watching it stick to the sides before flowing back into the bowl. The rich taste of the wine danced on his tongue, hints of toffee flowing up to his nose before he swallowed. "How did Pip die?" he asked after a moment.

Walter thought for a moment. Hunter knew it was more from wanting to organize his thoughts than trying to remember. While old, Walter was still as sharp as he had been as a teen.

"You know that they went in to investigate a warehouse that had supposedly housed a FREAK chip plant. It turned out that the plant had been moved several days before we moved in, and a large number of ghouls and FREAKS were there to ambush the team we sent in.

"Captain Bernadette had taken a contingent of the Wild Geese in with Commander Victoria's Hellsing group. He and Commander Victoria had gone in to place charges to destroy the factory, but when they got to the site, they realized the trap that had been laid out for them. Large charges had already been set. They rushed back as the building began to collapse. Outside, the rearguard was holding back a number of ghouls off."

Hunter frowned. "You said that there were FREAKS there as well. Where we they?"

"They had waited for some sign. As Pip and Miss Victoria started moving their people out, they attacked, separating Seras from the group. At the time, she had just developed her ability to phase in and out of places, but it was unknown to Pip. He charged back in to save her and killed by one of the FREAKS. She was very quiet for weeks afterward, saying little outside of orders to her troops."

"They were closer than I thought," murmured the Dhampir.

"They were closer than any of us thought," the butler said. "Pip seemed to take a large delight in taunting her, not to the degree that Alucard did, but he still annoyed her. He would call her Vicky for the mere fact that it ruffled her feathers. But she started striking back, taunting him as well." He sipped his wine. "I think he is largely responsible for the darling woman that we know. If he hadn't forced her out of her shell she wouldn't have had the strength of will to be the head of the troop contingent."

Hunter swirled the wine about and tossed it off. "How did he die, exactly? The precise terms, Walter."

"One of the FREAKS had appropriated one of the dead soldier's Socom pistols and was about to shoot Miss Victoria with it. Pip drew his fire as he charged in, taking the shots that were meant for Seras. He slipped to the ground and managed to stay conscious long enough to take two of the ghouls off her back. She saw him and slipped into that rage that vampires fall into. He was dead from the two shots before she could drag him out to the medic."

"Tragic," Hunter said. No wonder she was avoiding him. He had brought back those memories. He felt a pang of guilt, and poured another glass of wine.

"It wasn't your fault, old friend. You couldn't have known when you asked about him. It's best to just let her work it from her system. She's stronger than any of us give her credit for."

"Seras!"

She turned, and saw Pip rushing back in, pistol already firing.

"No!" she cried, ducking beneath a ghoul and shooting it. "Get the rest of the team out! Go!"

He ducked around a ghoul, kicking its leg from the side. As the leg broke, he placed his gun to its head and fired. He continued rushing towards her, but a wall of ghouls separated them.

"Pip, get out now! I'll be fine. GO!" She saw him fly back, a small mist of blood flowing from his abdomen. "PIP!"

She felt her control slip, and she lashed out against the monsters around her, cursing them all as she did.

Erik Valar stood in his chambers, sipping a glass of wine. Such a marvelous invention, so similar in texture and hue as blood, but yet so different in effects. It was a drink for the elite, the cultured.

And he was both, and more.

He considered his son, and the people he had allied with. They were weak, only using what abilities they had to fight against the swell of people different from them. The old dogma of 'Good Versus Evil', he thought with a sneer. He knew that there was no good, no evil. There was only power, those that had it, and those that wanted it.

He looked at the painting that hung over his bed, a replica of Van Gogh's 'Starry Night.' He found the textures to be exquisite; he could almost see the hints of insanity that had begun to creep into the painter's life near the end.

He sipped more of the wine. The Cabernet Sauvignon was at the peak of its flavor, having aged for close to a century in the bottle he had poured it from. He had an extensive cellar of wines. One of the perks of immortality.

His son still gnawed at his mind. He had no doubts that he would kill the boy if he had to, and he would have no trouble with it. A Dhampir would be no match against an Undead of his power. But why waste such a valuable asset, if he could appeal to the vampiric side of his wayward offspring? After all, he had been less that the white knight that the stories painted him as. He knew of the dark past, following the Inquisition, the true potential this half-breed had.

He looked at the painting, reflecting on the subtle meanings. Many saw it as a declaration of protection against the onslaught of nature.

He saw it as the inevitable destruction of the weak and cowardly. "Total destruction," he said, echoing the words his fledgling Incognito had said so many times. He had fouled up with that one, pressing against his mind until it had snapped. He had been too unstable to let loose, but his plans had required that the Hellsing Organization be distracted from Das Millennium while they continued the movement of their base.

He felt his lip curl at the incompetence of that dratted Nazi. The group had been crumpled by the hands of that bitch and her pet vampire and was in hiding now. He didn't care for the people that had gone into hiding; they were merely food, fodder for him and his kind.

But Rip, ah, how he missed her. She was violent, bloodthirsty to a degree he had not seen in ages. She made his blood boil like few so vampires could. According to his sources, she had been slain by that bastard of a vampire. He had nearly killed Schrödinger when he had brought the news. As it was, the werewolf was now taking over for the slain Major.

But the past was the past. All it did was serve to prove that humans were too weak and vapid to remain on the planet. He smiled as he thought about the rivers of blood that would flow when he came to power.

Yes, it would be as elegant as the wine in the glass he held.

She had no more tears to cry and she was wet and cold, but she couldn't leave the graveyard. She was looking for some sign, some hint that would show her what to do. The rain had stopped, but she hardly noticed.

"I thought you might be here," a voice said quietly from behind her. She turned and found Walter standing there with Hunter in tow. The aging butler had a very large blanket and a towel in his hands. Walter stepped up and wrapped her in the blanket. "He's been heavily on you mind again," he said just as soft as he did so. He began to lead her back to the manor, but Hunter stayed behind, gazing at the grave marker. He hardly even looked at her. How badly have I hurt him? she wondered.

He dwindled as Walter led her to the warmth of the house. He escorted her to her room. "I suggest that you get a warm shower and into dry clothes before you get sick." He turned to leave but Seras grabbed his arm.

"Walter, I need to ask you something." She swallowed, and then recounted the story that had been playing in her head all evening, but the man stopped her after a few minutes.

"I'm not the one you should be telling this to, Miss Victoria."

Her eyes widened. "I know, but I can't tell him that. What would he think? What would he say?"

Walter smiled that smile that had always put her at ease. "I expect he would understand better than you think, Seras. Go, he needs to hear it, he deserves that much."

He left, leaving her with her thoughts.

Hunter wandered around the cemetery devoted entirely to the fallen members of Hellsing. It was so much larger than when he had looked at it last, larger than he would have thought fifty years would have made it. But then, the last decade or so had been the most violent time in the organization, and the last four had been particularly devastating.

He looked down at a marker, recognizing the name.

Peter Fargason, KIA 12 August, 2000. He gave his life for his country. He now defends Heaven.

Hunter remembered him as a bright, tow-headed young man, full of fire and skill in the armoured division of the British army, who had transferred into Hellsing with him. He rested his hand on the stone marker and closed his eyes. "What had you seen, old friend? What did you know that could have, should have been imparted?" Again, this war had taken someone that should have died in their bed, having passed their wisdom to the next generation. He walked to the next stone, gazing at the weathered faces, wondering about the lives they had lived. Had they left widows, children?

He came across another stone, this one slightly larger than the others. It sat at the end of the row, as if the master of this battalion.

Paul Richardson, KIA 7 December, 1956. Slain in defense of the Master of Hellsing. In pace requiescat.

He remembered Richardson well. He had been a contemptible bastard in his opinion, but had the ability to throw his men into whatever came at them and bring them back out again. Still though, Hunter had wished no ill will towards the man, and wondered if it was his inflexible hatred of the Undead that had killed him.

He gazed across the graveyard. The stones stood in silent rows, a testament to the brave men and women that had given their lives, their souls, their very beings, to the service of Hellsing. It had been a long war, and it wasn't over yet.

So many people, so willing to die for a cause they thought worthy. He marveled at the sheer thought. Life was the most precious thing that anyone carried; even the most destructive of evil respected their own lives. Only those that had crossed into insanity or fanaticism devalued lives.

He felt a pang of guilt, memories drifting up unbidden. A prefect in Madrid, a courtier in Helsinki, a bishop in Venice, the Don of a small township in Portugal. Their faces and their voices mocked him. He shut his eyes and shook his head. He had already come to grips with those deaths, those deeds.

But it didn't mean that he didn't wish they hadn't happened.

He caught the sound of a boot stepping into the damp soil behind him. He turned, seeing Seras there, still rather soaked and very uncomfortable. He sensed her turmoil, and her determination. She just looked at him, not directly, but at where he was. It was as though she was afraid to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry that I brought up uncomfortable memories," he said into the silence.

She gave a weak smile and brought her gaze up a bit. He saw that she came to a stop by Pip's gravestone. "You didn't, those memories were actually some of the things I cherish." She hesitated, looking down at her feet. "It was the thoughts that came afterwards that upset me."

He walked towards her, letting her set the pace. He didn't push, just waited. He could tell that this was difficult for her.

"I was thinking about how it seems that everyone that got close to me died, were hurt in some terrible way. Gareth was killed just because he was in the way of Anderson that night, and Fargason," she trailed off. She looked at the marker in front of her. Tears had sprung to her eyes again.

"And then Pip. He was annoying, to be sure, but he made me feel like a normal person again. Like I belonged."

She swiped at her eyes. "Look at me, I'm crying like a rookie. I wouldn't be surprised if someone from the old D-11 team was looking down at me and shaking their heads, calling me Kitten all over again."

"Not all tears are evil, Seras," Hunter said softly. "They are the way the soul shows its existence. To have no tears for fallen comrades would be the sign that you have become the monster you so fear to be."

She looked at him. "How can you be so calm all the time? You've been attacked by your own father, had countless friends fall in combat and life. How is it you lock your feelings away? Please tell me," she whispered.

"I'm not so sure it's locking them away as much as letting them come when the time is right." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I had a friend in the first World War, a great jovial fellow called Norman. He had this incredible view on life. It was a finite game, and when his turn ended, he just hoped that his friends would remember him fondly. That's all he wanted."

He looked at the blonde. "Mourning fallen friends isn't an evil act, and especially those that have fallen recently. The wound is still fresh with you, and..."

"I killed him." she said quietly.

"No, you didn't. It may seem like that..."

"I KILLED him," she said with certainty. She looked at him, her eyes haunted, puffy from tears. "I killed him, not some FREAK."

Hunter just stood there, not speaking as the words flowed from her.

"You stupid sod, why did you come back? What were you thinking?" she asked as she bound the wound in his stomach. His braid was coated in mud and his own blood. He was pale and sweating heavily.

"Couldn't resist a damsel in distress, I guess," he said quietly.

"Don't try to talk, Pip. Just conserve your strength."

"I'm not going to make it, Vicky."

"Don't be ridiculous, you'll be fine as soon as we get you to the medic."

"You don't understand, I won't make it," he said with conviction. He raised one arm and pushed the tattered sleeve back with a trembling hand. Seras paled as she saw the large wound in his forearm. The marks of a ghoul bite. He'd been bitten by one of those ghouls he had fought off in his brazen rescue attempt.

"Pip," she whispered. "No, Pip no."

His arm fell back to his side. "You've got to kill me, Vicky. I won't be one of those things."

"Please, don't ask me that,"

"Seras, you have to,"

"I can't! Don't you understand that?" Tears were flowing down her face now.

"Please!" His breathing was becoming labored. "I don't want you to remember me as some shambling monster."

"Pip, I can't," she said, her voice wavering. "I can't shoot you."

"Vicky, if you care about me at all, you'll let me..." he convulsed in pain. She held him, her mind torn in two. He couldn't be asking her to do this.

"Seras," he whispered. She started. He hardly ever called her by her right name.

"Seras, I've never asked you for anything," he wheezed.

"There was that twenty quid last week, you liar," she said, trying to prolong, to stall, to do anything but admit the reality in front of her.

"Yeah, there was that," he laughed. "It's in my wallet, if you want it back. Course, you'll have to get it out yourself."

"You oaf," she said, stroking his face. "It's not enough you corrupt me off duty, but you try when you're dying too."

"Hey, gotta stay consistent." His face slackened somewhat. "You know what you have to do, Police Girl."

She nodded, her heart heavy, her throat closed. She leaned forward and kissed him, savouring his taste, the feel of his lips. She then stood, pulled her Socom, and looked at him. He nodded weakly, shutting his eyes.

She closed her eyes, "I love you," she whispered. She pulled the trigger, shooting him cleanly in the chest.

She was crying again. She found her face was pressed into Hunter's chest, her tears staining his shirt. His arms were wrapped around her, comforting her.

"I shot him," she said again. "I shot the man that I loved. How horrible is that?"

"You did what he asked. If you had let him go, he would have become a ghoul, and that would have been more of a dishonour to his memory. You did the right thing, Seras."

She shoved away and punched him hard. He stumbled back several steps, falling backwards over Pip's tombstone. She leapt at him, punching him in the chest. "Don't you say that!" she shrieked. "He was a good man, he didn't deserve to die like that! He didn't, he shouldn't, he shouldn't have," her pummeling slacked off as she collapsed and just cried.

Hunter wrapped his arms around her. "No, he shouldn't have. But he gave the job to the one person he trusted. The one person that he knew would do it. It wasn't easy, I know. But you had to do it."

She looked at him, her eyes forlorn. "How do you know? Don't just spout trite phrases at me."

"I'm not," he said. "I told you about how I came into my powers. What I didn't tell you was that shortly after I had killed the werewolf, my sister woke up, transforming. The first transformation of a werewolf is slow, painful."

He looked at her. "She begged me to kill her. I couldn't, she had three children, one barely a year old. I remember thinking that we would find some way to reverse the effects, to cure her. There had to be some other way, I knew it. But she wouldn't relent, and then what little of my sister that was left faded, the beast taking over.

"If I had let her go, she would have wrought the same destruction on another family, and I couldn't allow that. It would have destroyed her more fully than any death would have. I killed my own sister, Seras. I do know how you feel, and it ate at me for years. I felt like I had failed her for the longest time. But in the end, I had saved her."

He sat up, gathering her into his arms. "The trick is knowing that, knowing that they are happy now, wherever they are. Heaven, the afterlife, whatever."

She looked at him. "You don't believe in Heaven?"

"It doesn't matter," he said softly. "It is a place for the dead, not the living. If and when I die, if I wind up there, I'll be happy. If not, then my opinion really doesn't matter. But the thing is, I'm here now, and I have a duty to everyone that cannot protect themselves, even unto my own death. So do you. So did Pip. So did everyone you see in this graveyard. Pip is in good company, and he died serving the helpless. That is a hero's death."

"I know, but sometimes, it just hurts when I think about it." She pressed hand to her heart, as though she could smother the pain. "I just wish it would go away," she whispered.

"Pain is the only way to tell that you're alive, Seras." He gazed back at the seemingly endless rows of markers. "I've been around the world several times, and I've yet to run into a theology that doesn't say that the afterlife is a place filled with bliss and happiness. The closest I've seen was the Norse Valhalla. But even then it was filled with glorious battles, the slain rising to join in the feasts at the end of the day."

He looked at her, forcing her to meet his gaze. "When you feel pain, you know you are alive. The way to survive it is to know that you are preventing it from reaching another person. I know you miss him. But is you can't see the good he did while he was alive and honour that memory, then you might as well crawl into that grave with him, because you've died as well."

He stood, still holding her in his arms. "Let's go in. It's getting cold out here. And you're all wet,"

She laughed weakly. He set her down, and they walked towards the manor.

"I hope Walter hasn't put that bottle of Merlot up yet. We've got family to celebrate and remember and sacrifices to honour."

As they walked on, he wrapped an arm across her shoulders. "And with your permission, old guilt to lay to rest."

He looked at her as she slumbered on the bed. She had been through so much for one so young. Too much, more than could ever have been expected of her.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned, seeing Amon and Robin there. The young witch's hair was let down, a golden flow to her waist, and they both looked in at the sleeping vampire.

"How is she doing?" she asked.

"Better," he said. "She still has a lot of guilt to work through."

"If anyone will be able to help her," Amon said. "It'll be you and Walter."

"Thanks." He glanced back at the form under the blanket. "Has anyone seen Alucard or Sir Integra since they got back?"

Robin smiled. "No, I expect that they spent most of the day by themselves."

Hunter smiled. "I wonder who bit who on that one," he said.

Amon leaned back against the wall. "I had another call from that Watcher, which is why we came to find you." He held out a faxed piece of paper. "What can you make of this?"

Hunter took it, recognizing the very old Celtic script that flowed across it. "It's the same as the parchment the summoning spell is on," he said, mentally translating. "But this is more of a historical document. It says," he looked up at the two people standing across from him.

"We've got a chance," he said, a smile spreading across his face.

A/N: I've been trying to meld the Manga into the storyline without horribly altering things I've already written. The hardest part was figuring out how to go about Pip's absence. I expect I'll likely get burned by those of you diehard PxS fans, but that's ok.

Drum roll
I never really feel quite right and I don't know why
All I know is that something's wrong
Everytime I look at you you seem so alive

Tell me how do you do it,
Walk me through it,
I'm following every footstep

Maybe on your own you take a cautious step
Do you want to give it up?

But all I want is for you to SHINE
Shine down on me,
Shine this life that's burning out.

I say a lot of things sometimes that don't come out right
And I act like I don't know why
I guess the reaction is all I was looking for, yeah

You looked through me,
You really knew me,
Like no one has ever looked before

Baby on your own you take a cautious step
Do you want to give it up?

But all I want is for you to SHINE
Shine down on me,
Shine this life that's burning out.

I know, I know, girl you got something

SHINE (shine it on to me)
Shine down on me (I wanna feel it)
Shine on this life that's burning out

Thanks to all the readers and reviewers. We're coming to the end of the series arc, and it'll be a wrench when it's over.

Baby on your own you take a cautious step
Do you wanna give it up?

But all I want is for you to SHINE
Shine down on me (just show me something)
Shine on this life that's burning out (you give me something that I never
know)

Shine (it gonna kill me if you give something away)
Shine down on me(I wanna know what's going in on your mind)
Shine on this life that's burning out

Don't you know I want you to SHINE
Shine down on me
Shine on this life that's burning out

Preview

Jan Valentine: It's Janny

Luke Valentine: And Luke

Both: With the weather report.

Seras: Hold it, you two. You died three years ago.

Jan: We did? Whoa, what a mind fuck.

Luke: But this is the preview, we're like the Marely's ghosts of the Hellsing past.

Seras: Oh, just scat you two. In our next chapter...

Cole Turner: Hey, could you tell me where the author's office is?

Seras: Who are you?

Cole: Oh, sorry. Cole Turner, former Source of All Evil, currently DA for Los Angeles sixth precinct.

Seras: Up the stairs, third door on your left.

Cole: Thanks, miss.

Seras: Now, in our next chapter...

Halconnen fairy: Hunter fixes Shashimi tempura and bulgogi, Alucard and Integra go dancing, and Vash kisses Robin while Amon goes bowling with Walter.

Seras: You again?

Chapter 10: Crash into Me