Note: see prologue for disclaimer
Author's note: see, I wasn't dead. this is the part I try tu use the real life excuse and all that... no I am not going to, I had some real life issues, but I still had time to write, personally I blame it on my lazyness and my uncanny ability to become distracted easily.
There are a few noticeable changes in this and precious parts, this was done in an effort to make things look better and to make writing the next part easier to me (I have rewriten it twice and so far I still can't make it feel right). aditionally, I wanted to prepare the fic for a few things and I warn you guys, this is a rant, mostly.
Rant
One of the things that always bugged me about buffy is that while she is the vampire slayer she spends most of her time dealing with demons, sure, the guy in the costume logic and all that, but the fact is that there is a lot of vampire mythos out there, preatty much every culture has, at least, one. so taking them and freshing them out a bit seems far more reasonable than inventing a stupid looking demon.
This is one of the things I want to do with the fic, try and incorporate some extra vampire mythos.
Of course, it might be some chapters before they make apearances, but mark my words, they will
end rant
Chapter Two
Xander had decided that, yes, he hated silver.
It had all been due to a rather stupid accident; well, at least stupider than his norm.
After the orientation he had been ushered through a number of training exercises that took most of Saturday's night, probably to see how much of the soldier had been left behind, before being moved on to this second stage; relearning how to use the weapons in his new 'condition' to its fullest, with Seras as his instructor.
Learning the how to had not being as hard as he would have thought, but that was only in the beginning and on Sunday they were going through the more complex 'exercises'…
Actually Xander had, by then, begun to fell smug by his prowess, and predictably, it was then when it happened
He had been in mid exercise, in a prone position changing, reaching for to be precise, the ammo clip, when his index finger slipped with enough bad luck that it ended touching the tip of the first round in the magazine.
It had hurt like nothing in his life, not even his close encounter in the woods had hurt like… ok, perhaps he was overreacting, it had not hurt as much as that, but it had hurt a lot in a way he could not describe and it had only been a brush with a low-grade silver alloy Hellsing used in the rounds for their high rate of fire weapons.
Walter had been on the money there; silver was the bane of the newly turned. What was more it was the bane of any turned, period.
So, here he was, within one of the booths of the institution's shooting range, sitting cross-legged against one of the booth's walls while nursing his numb and rather nasty looking index finger.
Seras, for her part, was crouching in front of him, helping him clean the wound.
"You could have warned me, you know?"
"Uh…. But I did, at least twice"
"Ah, you…did" nod " uh… that, er… heh… maybe you should have tried harder. You know how us teenagers tend to be…" he said a bit embarrassed.
"Really? I don't quite remember being quite like that… must be an American thing. Don't worry I'll keep it in mind for the next time, Xander," she said with a smile of he own, "In the mean time, you might want to reconsider wearing the gloves Walter gave you."
"Oh! So there was a reason for them," he said snapping the fingers of his good hand.
"Uh…. What did you thought they were for?" she asked, puzzled expression clearly on her face.
"Well I thought it was a stuffy brit thing, dunno, like a tweed supplement of some sort."
"Xander…" she deadpanned.
"Oh, come one it wasn't that bad… ok, maybe it was but er…." Think fast, he said to himself, desperately trying to come up with something to redirect the conversation, "uh… shouldn't we go back at practicing with the big bad firearms… my finger is all ok now see," he said nervously waving the still foul looking finger in front of Seras.
"Nice try," she said with a small smile, "but we are right about done."
"We are?" he said with some doubt in his voice.
"Yes, at least for now," she said incorporating herself, "need a hand?"
"Sure," he said grabbing Seras' extended hand, before he was pulled to his feet, "thanks." Sure, it had not been gentleman like, but when Seras had inclined to give him a hand, the twin features of her uniform moved in a very uh… enticing manner. It was beyond him how the uniform managed to contain them.
"You're welcome."
"This means free time?"
"No, you have another class waiting for you," she said while disassembling the sniper rifle.
"Uh… what are you going to teach me now?"
"Me? Nothing, master will be teaching you."
"Uh... master? As in your master Alucard?"
"Don't know any other?"
"…It has to be him?"
"Yes."
"Are you really, really, sure?"
"Yes, Xander, I am really, really, sure. Besides it is not as if master has done anything to you."
"Well, that's true, but…"
"Oh!" she said snapping her fingers, "you are scared of him about the whole master thing, right?"
"Me? Scared? Of him?"
"Yes" Stated Seras with a smug expression on her face.
Xander stood for a moment frozen before nodding in defeat.
"You are despicable, " he finally added in a daffish voice.
"Well, I try," she said with a small smile. "But, Xand… come one, you should give master a chance…. He is not that bad…"
"Ok, he is just a bit ruthless and twisted…. And let's not forget the blood fetish." Xander had met the no life king during the orientation and to be honest, he had felt intimidated by Alucard… intimidated wasn't the right word but…
"Blood fetish?" she asked a bit puzzled.
"Yeah, with all the blood red he wears, he so has to have some sort of blood fetish."
Seras shook her head, Xander's sense of humor was rather unique, to say the least "Oh, come on Xander, even for you thi…"
"Uh? This wha…" he interrupted himself in mid sentence once he noticed Seras' expression. In reality, there could only be one thing, two if you wanted to get technical, but he really doubted Seras would play him that joke, at least she didn't seemed the type, so that left meant back to option one. "…lemme guess, he is standing behind me" he deadpanned.
Xander was finding himself in a rather peculiar situation. He was hanging upside-down, being held by the ankle by Alucard, on the roof of the Hellsing mansion. Well, only Alucard was there, he was, currently, hanging over the ledge, probably three floors from the ground.
It wasn't as if he could have guessed the No Life King had been so self conscious….
"Uh… a sorry wouldn't cut it, wouldn't it?"
"Why?"
"Ehm… cuz I really don't want you to let me go?"
"Ah, but till a few moments ago that was what you wanted me to do," he said with an amused smile.
"Well… yes… but that was then, and then I wasn't this far from the ground… "
"So?"
"Well… me, ground… splat and… oh..."
"Oh, indeed," he said in a full grin, before he let go of Xander's ankle.
With a sense of amusement Alucard followed his newest "student's" fall until his encounter with the ground, and a rosebush, at a rather uncomfortable angle.
It had been a while since he had trained someone as actively as Integra had requested/ordered; it had been so long he had even forgotten how entertaining it could be.
Though the real question was, how much of the mansion, the surrounding grounds and last but not least his student's psyche he was going to be able to demolish using the training excuse or what his master was going to do about it.
And with a grin he followed after his student… he really loved win-win situations.
Xander's point of view on the situation had been a bit on the unique side. At least the angle was, his take on the situation, on the other hand, was also quite different from Alucard's.
For one part he had been paralyzed by fear, so his rational mind, or most of it, had shut down for the time being; which, let it be said, had been the only reason that had stopped him from screaming his way down.
On the other hand, one could hardly blame him, having heightened senses is definitely a problem in some kinds of circumstances, like this one; especially if one is new to and has yet to get used to them.
Of course, one should keep in mind that falling from that height, head first, wouldn't be fun to anyone, immortal or otherwise.
The sudden stop at the other end of the fall wasn't any better than the fall itself, especially the finding himself wedged in the remains of a rosebush.
For Xander, that last thing had begun with a crushing sound, probably the bush meeting him, followed by a thud, (him) meeting the ground, and finishing with a crunching noise, the ground stopping him cold at the expense of a few dozen, probably more, broken bones.
And then, there was Alucard, looking impossibly tall and foreboding standing next to him. The first part was probably because of the angle; the second simply came naturally to the No Life King.
"What the hell were you trying to do? Kill me?" Xander practically screamed, completely forgetting to whom he was speaking
"Kill you? Hardly."
"That's a hoot, cuz you broke my back… I can't get up," that and the thorns of the bush were giving him an uncomfortable itch, that he shouldn't have felt with his back broken…
Alucard's answer was a bone chilling laughter, "That was the idea, soldierboy."
"What!" Xander's newfound courage went with the laugh, as part of his mind reminded him at whom he was shouting.
"I think you heard me the first time, Sir Hellsing commanded me to train you, and this is it."
"Training? What…"
"Regeneration," Alucard said, interrupting him in mid sentence, "and thus, we needed something for you to regenerate, didn't we?" he finished in a condescending tone.
"Re…regeneration? …How?" He really wanted to move on his own power anytime soon.
"Simply will it," it came naturally to their kind, even to a lowly thrall. But willing it not only speeded the process considerably, it allowed some rather special tinkering onto it, not to mention that it was a great way to learn bypassing the body's limitations…
"Oh," sure, he should have seen it coming…
Of course, saying it was easier than doing it, but soon there after Xander started feeling the bones cracking back into place and then the muscles returning to their proper places and original shapes, even the skin repaired itself, leaving practically no mark of the bruising or the cuts made by both the thorns and the exposed fractures.
And it was then, that he was ripped of the bush and found himself once again upside down, with Alucard grabbing him by the ankle.
"Pathetic," he spoke in a monotonous tone, "we will have to repeat it, at least till you manage to do something halfway decent…" He finished, already moving toward the building.
Walter Dorne was perhaps one of the oldest and most respected members of the Hellsing institution.
He had quite a long and active career, something not particularly normal in his chosen field of work, and had the distinction of being the youngest human not only to join the Hellsing, but also to make it up to the elite 'trash disposal unit'.
Of course, time had caught up with him, and while he was still more than capable of taking out the trash, as he had shown to the younger Valentine, he was only a shadow of his former self.
Then again, he had other, more pressing, responsibilities than removing rubbish and Alucard was more than capable and even eager enough to do so.
As much as the no life king hated his bondage, he loved a good fight, even if that seemed to have become a bit rare these days, too many freaks, too few real challenges.
Since his voluntary discharge from the field ops, he had become Sir Integral's retainer, combination of butler, teacher, bodyguard and right hand man.
It was a position that he felt honored to hold, and a position that managed to keep him incredibly busy, especially since the Valentine brother's raid.
Ever since then, his workload had tripled, and not only because of the severe lack of personnel they were suffering. At least not only due to that, the fact was that a foreign and quite hostile organization had managed to sneak a very sizeable force of very conspicuous looking ghouls up to their very gates during a round table meeting…
The implications were disturbing, but not less than the lack of findings.
He didn't like giving those kinds of reports, but it was his duty. He never backed from duty.
And with that he knocked at the mahogany doors towards Sir Hellsing's private office.
Sir Hellsing had been reading the leatherbound book that her grandfather had used as a journal during the war, when she heard the knock. She looked up in time to see Walter moving towards her desk, with his characteristically neutral expression on his face.
"Sir Integral," he said with a slight bow.
Sir Hellsing, for her part, acknowledged him with a slight nod before placing the, now closed, journal on top of her desk.
"How is our newest recruit, Walter" she asked while removing a cigar from the humidor.
"Remarkably well, Sir Hellsing, he has begun training with Alucard."
"Already?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, it seems, as suspected, that the abilities earned during the "Halloween incident" were more than theorical."
"Good," she said, lighting the cigar. It simplified matters considerably, and it also shortened the time needed before beginning with the operations.
"I should add that Mr. Littlejohn has agreed to aid us in this matter," Edward Littlejohn had been part of Hellsing's research division, but when it had been dismantled some twenty years ago, he had remained on the payroll as a private consultant of sorts. He was perhaps one of the most prominent figures in his field and, more important, a staunch ally.
"Very well," she took a poof from her cigar.
"Additionally, our man in the Los Angeles consulate has brought some good news."
"So, we have secured aid from the Watcher?"
"Provided Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg are briefed on the situation."
"Predictable, has the legal department processed the necessary paperwork?"
"It should be in transit to the consulate as we speak."
"What about the other matter, Walter?"
"Millennium?" he sighed "With the approval of the round table, we secured the aid of reliable sections of the intelligence community to scour any possible pieces of pertinent information. However, as of yet, nothing noteworthy has come up. Additionally some queries have been made to foreign supernatural and occult study groups"
"And yet nothing was found," it had not been a question, but a statement. That much was clear.
"I apologize, sir Integral, but, as it is, the only reliable information at our disposal is the meaning of the word itself."
"A span of a thousand years," Integral completed for her butler.
"Quite so."
Sir Integral placed the still unlit cigar onto the crystal ashtray and remained in though for a moment before standing up.
"There is one thing left, then…" she paused and glanced back to the leather bound tome, "Half a century ago a power had perused the dream of an empire that would last the span of a thousand years…"
Walter's eyes widened almost instantly. He had considered that possibility, but discarded it almost as fast. They had eliminated the lot of them, from test subjects to researchers, even the facilities and the documents. Nothing had remained.
At least nothing should have remained… but if it had.
"The third Reich, Hitler's Germany," Integra finished.
She turned towards the window, looking at the sunlight beginning to bathe the inner garden and the forest beyond it. "Walter, I want confirmation, one way or the other. Leave no stone unturned and no information overlooked no matter how insignificant."
"Very well."
"is that all, Walter?" she said, settling back onto her chair
"Oh no, I am afraid there is one more thing, Sir Integral."
"Yes."
"I might have come up with a solution to our personnel problem." that earned him another raised eyebrow.
The Valentine raid had not only left them shorthanded, but with serious problems to replenish their loses.
It had become apparent that the security apparatus had been compromised by the, as of yet, still invisible backers of the Valentine brothers.
Uncertain to the level of it, the institution had intensified its recruit's screening process. That was why so far only five men had been inducted and with luck perhaps two more would be by the end of the week.
Luckily the bulk of the survivors had been from the investigative division whom had been away on assignment; with out their aid the number of inductees would have been even lower.
Still… the results were far from acceptable.
"I can secure the services of the Wild Geese mercenary company."
"Mercenaries? Can they be trusted?" this wasn't a mere question of loyalty, but also of ability, few men could face the darkness they fought and emerge victorious, least of all alive. But Walter was very much aware of that, if he vouched for them...
"Yes, you must understand that they are no ordinary mercenary company, they are overly competent, experts in the field. Additionally they seem to be quite indebted, as such we do posses some leverage over them," he said, as he placed a small stack of bills and assorted documents, he had produced from within his vest, on top of the desk.
"Very well, Walter, I leave this matter to your discretion."
"Then I will take my leave."
Buffy still felt tired as she made her way towards the library through the student filled hallways.
A slayer needed very few hours of sleep, at least compared to the average teenager. However, that had its limits.
Four miserable days had passed since Halloween, the day that had supposedly been 'dead for the undead' but it had turned to be anything but.
For starters, she had been just another powerless victim, at least for great part of the night, trapped within her own costume.
Because of that people had been hurt and some had died, funny part was that that didn't really bothered her, at least that wasn't what was taking her sleep away.
It was what happened to those close to her, to her friends, pretty selfish of her but in character with her old cheerleading self.
Still that didn't changed the facts.
Xander was gone, missing, but missing really didn't existed in this town, at least it didn't existed for long, before missing was either promoted to snack or host.
She wanted to believe he was ok, but she knew better, and hoped he was among the permanently dead.
She wasn't too sure if she could kill a demon wearing the face of her friends and wasn't too eager to find out.
And Willow… Willow was a wreck, even worse than she was, Xander had meant a lot to her and then there was Jesse, that other boy close to her she had failed to protect.
Some slayer she was…
When Giles saw his slayer enter the library, he knew his time was running out, his time to tell her, her time to live.
As it was he doubted Buffy was getting any sleep, and it showed.
He needed to tell her, and to do it now, but…
"Good morning, Buffy."
"Uh? Oh, Giles, morning…"
"A-are you sleeping well Buffy?"
"Eh? Yeah… all night long, like a baby."
Giles sighted, all things aside she should have known better than to lie to him. But a part of him was oddly pleased for the reasons behind it, even if this wasn't the time for it.
Well, it was a moot point, besides there were pressing matters here, and Torensen had promised him the documents tonight at the latest.
"Buffy, I need you to come over my home after patrol tonight. There are a few things we need to talk about."
Whether Torensen showed up or not, he was going to tell Buffy all he knew and damn the consequences, he was not going to have his slayer killed over some accursed red tape.
Xander was lying on his room's bunk. It wasn't much, but it was home. Ok, it wasn't even that, it was just a small, plain looking room within the mansion's huge basement. His old room had been bigger and ,well, the still bare walls didn't help the atmosphere a bit. It had been equiped only with a desk, locker, oddly enough a bathroom and, of course, his bunk.
He had slept in worse place… well, his Halloween memories had, but it was close enough.
He was felling too tired and too miserable to care, not to mention that his whole body ached in one way or another.
Then again, he had regenerated most parts of his body at least once within the past forty-eight hours, so it was either a side effect of it or he hadn't done it right, or right enough.
Training under Alucard was an experience he was not going to forget anytime soon. He was having an awful lot of those lately, but this one… actually he wasn't all too sure about surviving it.
Alucard had been beyond harsh and merciless; he had seemed more interested in torturing than training him.
He had been repeatedly thrown, head first, from the roof, bludgeoned with a cudgel, a morning star and even a suit of full plate mail, dilapidated, stabbed and last but no least dismembered.
Sure he could understand the logic behind the training; after all it wasn't as if he could be killed by it, just permanently scarred and only psychologically at that.
But at least training with the monster was over and not only that, he was going to enjoy the rarity of free time before sunrise by resting in peace on his bunk.
Of course, fate is hardly known to miss such an obvious cue. That might be why the alarm chose that moment go off.
"Alert, Alert, This is a Class 3 emergency"
With a curse, Xander slowly got up from his bed and made his way towards the door.
Sir Hellsing was standing on the edge of the helipad, watching at her troops readying themselves for the upcoming operations, loading into the two Puma helicopters the institution had managed to acquire from the RAF to replace the ones destroyed weeks ago.
There had been confirmation of a FREAK in Debenford, a small hamlet perhaps sixty miles north of London, via one of the MI-5 teams that had been working for them. Of course, five minutes latter contact with the team was lost.
Not really surprising, since the MI-5 reliability, and loyalty, was on the doubt. The possibility of a double agent on that team, or within their superiors, was simply too high.
This was a bad situation, possibly as bad as Cheddar. Her sight focused on sergeant Victoria as she entered the lead chopper, there was not going to be a repeat of that one, she was sure of it.
Her eyes went back to her soldiers, as they finished loading and begun closing up the helicopter's doors. There were too few of them to be of any real use but to secure the LZ. Anger flared up against the elusive Millennium. But almost instantly it was contained. Her men would be avenged, at the proper time, no sooner, no latter.
And tonight's weapon of vengeance was going to be the trash disposal unit.
She doubted that they'd find anything other than the usual rubbish, but tonight was the first mission for the newest member of said unit.
She was curious how his performance was going to be, how deep the soldier's memories went. And exactly what had Alucard seen in the boy.
Behind her, the chopper's engine whirled onto life while its rotor begun to spin. Calmly, Integral turned around and, ignoring the backdraft, began moving towards her chopper.
Whatever the question was, it was only a matter of time.
In the lead Puma, Seras was absently watching the ground go by. It sometimes still amazed the sharpness of her senses, how easily she could see the needles on the pine they had just flew by or the feathers of that owl that had been scared away by the chopper's engine.
Xander was sitting next to her; he was for once quiet, staring at the nothingness before him. He was clad in a Hellsing BDU and was holding a FAL tightly with both hands. The only thing that distinguished him from the rest of the troopers were his unnatural red eyes.
"Nervous?"
"A bit," he said. It was more like anticipation, than nervousness or fear, but it was an all too present and uncomfortable sensation.
"Don't worry, me too," she said with a wink. In the scant time Xander Had known the older girl, he had discovered that Seras had the ability to lighten up any situation; it wasn't just that skimpy uniform of hers or her generous… attributes, well, not by themselves, it was her personality.
For an undead monster she seemed to be awfully cheerful at times.
And, on the other hand there was the Harkonnen, the huge anti midian cannon that was Seras' weapon.
Xander couldn't help but to steel a gaze at it from time to time, the thing was huge, probably large than she was, and perhaps as heavy . He had seen first hand what that thing could do, asides from that one time when it was used to kill a certain she-FREAK, and had a tremendous respect for the weapon.
Actually it made his old FN FAL feel inadequate.
"Five minutes till touchdown" interrupted the pilot through the audio system
The pilot of the lead Puma was tired and nervous. He was a new member of the institution and had yet to get used to their work schedules. Of course the weather wasn't helping him one bit, a storm front was approaching them and was probably going to caught them up in an hour or less…
His designated LZ was a municipal football soccer field, not far from the target and open enough for both choppers.
That also meant they were way to open for any shit, and with the storm coming, odds of escape were slim if the shit hit the fan. Wooden benches were hardly obstacles and even if they were they didn't had the troops to man them.
It was then when he noticed the oddly moving figures dotting the field.
"Hostiles on LZ" the pilot alerted
Seras looked towards Xander before standing up. It was going to be up to them to clear it.
Per standard orders, the choppers were going to hover not far from the ground and wait there, till they weeded out the undead, before putting down.
"Come on Xand, we have work to do," she said moving towards the door.
"Uh?"
"We are going to clear the LZ," she said sliding the door open.
"Rappel?" he said moving by her.
"Why would we?"
"Well…" but she didn't gave him the chance to finish. She just simply shifted her weight slightly and gave him an strategic push.
Gravity did the rest.
Yes, it had been underhanded, and yes, it had been very masterish on her part, but the longer they talked about it, the lesser the chances of finding anyone alive.
Xander, for his part, felt a slight sense of déjà vu as he saw the ground rapidly approaching. Of course, since the height being far lower that his 'normal' diving spot he didn't had much time to think about it before he met the ground.
Seras landed a few seconds after, her landing had been far more elegant, catlike even. Then again almost anything would have better than Xander's horizontal slam.
"Ugh… damnit Seras…" he said incorporating himself, "…warn me next time."
"Sorry, no time, get ready," she said, pointing at the shuffling figures throughout the soccer field.
Xander swallowed as he shouldered his rifle and moved the selector from safe to semi. This one was the real thing, not a game, not a memory.
Mechanically he took aim at the closest ghoul; in life it had been a middleaged woman, not a bad looking one; now, however her skin was in a sickly shade of blue, most of her left arm and midriff seemed to have been eaten or at least torn off, and what remained of her clothes had been shredded and bloodied beyond recognition.
It was a fate no one deserved; the person, as strange as it sounded, still remained, locked in a broken body it could not control.
A nightmare without end.
He pulled the trigger, sending a 7.62 mm silver round at the thing's skull. The wound exploded in a shower of blood and gore, before sending the creature, now truly dead, falling towards the grass like a rag doll.
Vampires, midianites,usually created ghouls to serve as a distraction and to cause chaos and destruction; since the condition was also transferable by the ghoul's bite they were very good at it.
Of course, against a vampire, or even a properly equiped human, they were little more than cannon fodder, unless there were lots of them or they were armed.
After the middleaged woman his target was a female teenager, then a young man, a paramedic and an elder citizen. They were already dead, worse than dead, and he was doing all that could be done for them, giving them release.
In the distance he could see the lightning dancing on the clouds. Apparently the weatherman had been on the money for change…
"Clear?"
"All Clear."
As the choppers landed, Xander began wondering when exactly his life had become a Romero film.
As soon as the Pumas touched down, troopers moved out and began setting up the defensive perimeter.
"Ok Xand, they can take it from here, let's go hit our targets, 'kay?"
" 'kay."
With that they began moving in different directions, Seras was going towards the last known position of the MI-5 team while he had to hit the last given position of the FREAK and probably work his way to any other place it'd be needed.
Alucard had probably taken care of the FREAKS already, so it was going to be a mop up for them.
Not that he'd complain about it; he knew better.
Xander's trek towards his target had been mostly uneventful, save for the dozen or two ghouls he had to put down. No survivors, but some signs of fighting. Casings, bloodstains, broken windows…
Hopefully Seras had gotten luckier on that area, after all one could always hope
His target was an old two story building located near the center of the hamlet. A pub had operated in the ground floor, till probably a few hours ago. The first floor was mostly unused, save for the owner's apartment and some office space.
Or, at least that was the info they had on it, he knew better than to trust it implicitly, but then again he had no reason to.
The building looked run down and the recent bout of mayhem had done nothing to improve its condition.
The lighting had gone out some time ago, probably when the shit hit the fan but Xander was still able to see a few shadows lurking within.
Carefully his hand went towards his sidearm, a colt .45 pistol, and removed its safety.
The building screamed trap in a way he couldn't really explain. But, trap or no trap, his orders had been very simple, search and destroy.
As he approached the door he swiftly moved the selector of his rifle from semi to auto, he had a part to play and he wasn't going to disappoint the FREKS, if any remained within.
The scene inside was one of utter chaos, the tables were overturned, shards of glass everywhere, the odd intact glass or bottle and then there was the blood, on the walls, on the floors, on the tables; it was everywhere.
And then, there were the Ghouls. He showed them no mercy; he fired controlled bursts in to the things, dropping the still twitching bodies as he systematically cleared the main room.
Once the main area was cleared, he moved onto the secondary areas of the ground floor, the storeroom, bathrooms and the small kitchen.
It was during his sweep of the latter, the last leg of his sweep, when he heard it, a rhythmic, metallic, noise.
Carefully he eyed the freezer…
It was one of the old freezers that restaurants used, built in to a wall, probably large enough for a person or two to hide in.
Survivors?
Perhaps someone had been locked in the freezer when all things had gone to hell.
While Ghouls could use firearms, they had to be prepared for it, but using doors? Opening locks? That was something beyond them, and so was opening the door of the meatlocker.
Quickly he made his way through the kitchen and opened the door to the freezer.
Almost immediately the half frozen corpse of a fat burly man launched itself towards him.
Out of reflex Xander moved backwards, making the corpse fail its grab, but then he slipped on something and felt, back first, to the floor.
From his position he saw the thing approaching him and his rifle just beyond him.
Panic ruled him for a second, before his hand went for his pistol and placed a heavy .45 slug in the ghoul's fat head, sending it and the rest of the ghoul falling backwards.
His gaze went from the still twitching corpse to his gun at his gun , back at the floor and finally onto his bloodstained glove.
The something he had slipped on was a very large bloodstain. In his eagerness to open the fridge he had missed it and almost… almost nothing, asides from the pain of being bitten, and the whole grossness of the thing, nothing would have happened, but it was a remainder.
Way too careless, he thought as he began collecting his weapons.
Bah, the first floor was cleared; it was time to move to the second floor, to the offices or whatever was up there.
The access to the second floor was thru a stair set in front of the bathrooms.
Slowly, Xander began climbing the stairs, hugging the wall. The stairs were a closed unit, probably the result of a prior remodelation, however it looked awfully bare and clean, as opposed to the rest of the building.
He had a reealy bad feeling about this.
On the first landing he rechecked his gun and changed the clip, whatever awaited him, he wanted to face it with a full clip. He already had a bad experience from ammo lackage at a critical moment not too long ago and he wasn't looking forward to a repeat of that particular situation in any way, shape or form.
With anticipation he reached the second landing.
Quickly he checked the flight of stairs that kept on onto the roof, before turning towards the closed door.
That was it. Slowly he turned the knob and began opening the door.
The report of a machinegun filled the air as Xander felt being brutally thrown backwards, until he slammed against the wall behind.
A tall red haired man in a blue suit walked out of the now open door. He had a smug look onto his face and unnatural yellow eyes.
Behind him, discarded on the floor was a still smoking M-60 machinegun, gun casings and the remains of the ammo belt could be seen all around it.
"Oh, it was just a regular trooper, a good one, but still a trooper…." He moved towards Xander's prone form.
Reaching for the fallen trooper, the FREAK grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and lifted him to his height.
"Hmmm… you seem to be still alive, you are one tough bastard." He chuckled at the trooper "Well Rambo, you are now going to replace one of the ghouls you broke," he said reaching for his neck.
But then Xander's eyes opened, revealing a pair of blood red orbs. The FREAK, surprised, let go of the trooper's collar and instinctively moved backwards, but it was already too late.
Xander's left hand had already found its grip on the faux vampire's right shoulder and the right hand was pressing his pistol against the FEAK's chest right above his heart.
Horror filled the man made monster's face, as realization struck, and then, as the teen's mouth twisted onto a predatory grin, the pistol went off.
Buffy was standing before the door to her watcher's apartment, with one hand on the doorbell.
She was tired, frustrated, but most of all unsure. There had been something in Giles words that gave her the willies. Like something that had gone wrong, or something that was 'bout to go wrong.
The slayage hadn't helped her nerves a bit, things had been odd. She had only found five fledglings, but had found signs of a lot of activity, dug out graves, in at least two cemeteries; somebody had been very busy and that wasn't good.
'…Come on Giles… What's...'
It was then, that the door opened. Giles was standing just beyond the doorway, still in tweed. She could sometimes swear that it was part of the watcher's skin, surgically grafted at birth or something…
"Oh, hello Buffy; please…" he said making a gesture of invite, "how was patrol?"
"Light, only five fledges, but there were some holes in Crestfield and Memorial," she said entering the apartment.
"How many?"
"At least ten in crest, a bit more in the… who's him?" she said pointing at a middle aged man in gray suit leisurely sitting in one of Giles' armchairs. The suit was definitely tailor made, at least to her expert eye; it seemed rather elegant and expensive, though the tailor made generally insured that. It gave the man an important and officious look.
"Miss Summers, my name is Arthur Torensen, I am the cultural attaché of the British Consulate in LA."
Buffy eyed her watcher, suspiciously, when he nodded, endorsing the man in the suit, she visibly calmed down.
"Uh, a pleasure… I guess," she then turned towards her watcher, "He is from the council?"
"Oh, no I am afraid that I do not belong to that particular organization. I am merely a member of her Majesty's foreign office."
"Problems with your papers, Giles?" she said with a mischievous smile on her face.
"On the contrary, Miss Summers, the business I have to conduct tonight is with you."
"With me?" ok, that had been new…
"Uh… it might be best if we all sit down," Rupert offered, pointing at his living room's only table.
"Giles?" oh no, she wasn't worried, not worried at all. Ok, maybe a tinsy bit, especially since she didn't had a clue of what was going on.
"It is important Buffy, please."
"Im-important?" ok, she was officially scared, Giles was being uh… cryptic, she didn't liked cryptic, it generally meant bad news, mom had been cryptic when… gah, she stopped her mind rant or self rant before it became apparent to others, or at least she hoped she had. Truth was, she didn't had much of a choice, after all Giles didn't went around playing, "ok."
"Good," said the diplomat placing his attaché case on the table before opening it, "before we begin, I must ask you to read and sign this document," he placed a small stack of paper from within his case on the table in front of the slayer.
"Uh… why?"
"Well, we are going to discuss some sensitive information and as such you must agree to keep it to yourself."
Carefully, she eyed towards Giles. Normally she wouldn't have, but with the situation…
Once her watcher gave her a slight nod, she hesitantly grabbed a pen and signed the documents at all the appropriated places, before returning both to the Englishman.
"Thank you miss Summers" he said, putting the documents back into his briefcase, before closing and locking it.
"So? What's so important, that needed all this?" her tone had been a bit aggressive, but this whole thing wasn't sitting well with her and all that nervousness had to go somewhere. After all, the slayer wasn't a scared, confused and saddened teen.
"It is about your friend Alexander."
"Xander?" surprise was evident in her face, as well as uncertainty "is he…"
"As far as I know he is fine, if a bit confused."
"He is?" There was puzzlement there, but it was quickly been replaced with satisfaction, joy even. Torensen knew that soon those emotions would be swept away again, hopefully temporarily, but…. "W-what happened…"
"Well, it might be best if we begin at the beginning," he managed a slim smile. "which from my understanding, would be this past Halloween."
Arthur paused for a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose before starting. It was not going to be easy, the slayer, as Mr. Giles had estimated was distraught and it could become quite the volatile situation.
Then again, lying to her was not an option; it was not a good idea in the given situation, not to mention it would have been against Sir Hellsing's orders.
And disobeying Hellsing's iron maiden was even worse; actually it was downright suicidal.
"You see, for some reason your friend, Alexander, was transported to the outlaying areas of Brandsgore, in the new forest. We are not too sure how it happened, but Mr. Giles here," he said pointing at the Watcher, "suggested it might be some consequence of the magic used that night, chaos magic, that seems to be of a rather unpredictable nature. In any case that is not the crux of the matter, but what happened afterwards is…"
Buffy listened to the man's tale, word for word, at first she had been thrilled to learn that her friend was ok, if a bit far away. Of course, that didn't last, as soon as she heard the words 'wound' and 'serious'. But it was then, that the tale took a turn for the bizarre, when the British diplomat explained both the nature of Hellsing and their ace.
"W-what!" like thunder she had stood up, eyes wide. He had the nerve to say he was right... he... he..
"Buffy!"
"But... Giles... He-he... d-demon" Buffy struggled for words. It was a proof of the situation that the stutter she had spent most of her childhood getting rid of reared its ugly head for the first time in eight years.
Giles sighted. One more of his mistakes was back to haunt him. While the various forms of known vampiric creatures were described in the so ill named 'Slayer's Handbook' he had been quite aware of his charge's reluctance towards to actually read said book and did nothing about it.
Of course, given the territoriality associated with most of the undead, made meeting anything here other than an Aurelian or maybe even a Ishvatii, like the master Buffy had faced in LA, astronomical at best.
But he had failed in his duty.
"Buffy, he is not a demon" not al demons were vampires and not all vampires were demons. But, saying this was the case, was a bit of a leap of faith.
His information on the no life kings was severely limited, even though most of the sources agreed on that fact, more or less, there were no guarantees it was right. For all he knew this could all be part of an elaborated rouse.
Still...
"But h-he is a vampire" she nearly chocked on that last word.
"Not an Aurelian vampire, not a demon" his response had been firm, definitive, however a part of Giles wanted certainty.
Buffy paused. It was...
this couldn't be happening, it was wrong, somehow she knew that much...
still, she nodded slightly and closed her eyes.
"I-if you say so..." she still had her doubts and this situation rubbed her the wrong way, but Giles ...he wouldn't lie to her, at least no in purpose
From his position, Arthur Torensen had observed the interaction between Slayer and Watcher.
It was an unusual relationship to find between a slayer and her Watcher. At least, it gave him some competent people to work with.
And given the situation, there wasn't anything else he could ask.
Buffy was still sitting at Giles' table after the British diplomat had left. She was still a bit shocked by all the news, but that wasn't the only reason she was still in her watcher's house.
"Giles?"
"Yes, Buffy?"
"Why?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why you didn't tell me about them?"
"I..." giles begun to polish his glasses. For a moment, he had been at a loss of words. In part his charge didn't need to be reminded of her lack of initiative, of her failures and of perusing a life outside her calling, something that the watcher had come to realize was in part reason for her continued survival. But, on the other hand, he couldn't lie to her, not now "...I did try, some time after we have met. But at the time you were concerned by more pressing matters and I saw little need in teaching you about the different forms of the undead."
"...Giles?"
"To be honest Buffy, the odds of finding anything but Aurelians and their kin in this town is very, very unlikely. I simply preferred to focus on those things that could make a difference in the field, rather than wasting time in teaching something purely academic."
"I... I am sorry, Giles, I know I've..."
"Nonsense, Buffy, I am the one who should be apologizing, I am the responsible one."
"Yeah, maybe, but I am can really be a pain, sometimes"
"Be as it may, that is in the past Buffy, we should be looking towards the future"
"I... I guess you are right, uh... what about Willow?"
"She deserves the truth"
"no, I meant why she wasn't here"
"Oh, well, I know she has taken Xander's disappearance badly. It might surprise you Buffy" he said with a small smirk "but, in spite of my glasses, I am not blind." his face lost all shade of humor "She is going to need a lot of help, Buffy, and you are her closest friend. She is going to need you to be there when when tell her"
Buffy sighted, that was an understatement, but he wasn't wrong. Willow wasn't in a good place right now and wasn't going to take this well, at last not better than she had…
"When?"
"Tomorrow after school, I believe, would be the best time."
Buffy nodded slightly, she agreed, the sooner, the better.
Rain began falling on the broken and abandoned Hamlet. A monument to the dead, a memory of a past long gone.
At least the rain would extinguish the fires and clean some of the darkness that had been inflicted here, wash it away…
Xander slowly walked through the devastation, pistol in hand, slowly. It was over, the situation was contained, and soon the investigation teams would go though the hamlet like a plague of locust.
He was missing the body armor, its broken remains had been discarded on the second landing. His clothes were dirty, torn and bloodied, he still had his rifle, but now it was little more than an expensive paperweight since at least one of the machinegun's rounds had shattered the barrel… actually he had been very lucky that no round hit the magazine in the gun or the clips he had on his body.
Actually, he had been more than lucky; if the FREAK had had half a brain he'd likely be dust scattering to the winds.
Really, trying to kill him with ordinary full metal jacket rounds… oh, yes, the massive trauma of getting one ammo belt discharged into his body at point blank had been painful and hard to regenerate, specially since he had to figure out how to do it on the fly, figures he'd get hurt with the one thing he hadn't trained regenerating, but it was nothing compared to what a silver or even a blessed bullet would have done to him.
Of course it wasn't surprising, if one considered that the idiot hadn't realized that he wasn't of the living any more, at least not until it was too late, for him.
Not that he'd complained about that.
After all, without it, things would have been a bit more complicated… not.
'Yes, FREAKs are truly pathetic creatures… however that does not excuse you from getting shot in such a stupid fashion.'
'Uh… hold a sec… there was a… oh, damn…'
'Well said, soldierboy. However I'd be more concerned in how to correct the shortcomings you have displayed tonight… yes, it means we'll be training with an extra zeal tomorrow.'
"…Well, shit."
Author's notes, part two:
Well, that's it. hopefully the nest part should be posted in two or three weeks (then again it might be a bit more, I have finals the week of the 25th, so I am not goign to be able to pay much atention to this)
anyway, so far I took the task of answering reviews with mails, I thought it was a bit more personal way to do so than posting responces at the end of fics, not ot mention it allowed me to be more open. However, between reciving reviews with no mails and a certain inhability to answer all reviews (as I mentioned before I am a bit absent minded) any reviews recived after this update is posted (7/17/05) I will begin to post them here (I still might use mail if the answer is a delicate topic or if it gives up too much of the comming plot).
Anyway, as a final note, if you guys see I am taking time in posting the next part, bug me. I am not asking reviews, but you can drop me a mail or try to find me in MSN or AIM (I am going to try be on line more).
one more thing... I spent quite a while strugling with to update this, what was the bright idea? hoping this form of edit will make people not want to post?