It had been a long week since his death. Alex was starting to readjust to his youthful body. Alfonse had reopened the vampires' physical training room for him. It hadn't been used since Seras…

Since I killed Seras.

The equipment in the exercise room was all retrofitted to withstand the sort of force a vampire would exert. Alex had taken to spending a lot of time there, working out his frustrations in exercise and knife and sword practice.

He hadn't been allowed to go into the field yet. It was understandable, but aggravating. Alucard and the Hellsing troops had been called out twice since he had been there. Nobody would tell him what was going on and it galled him to be unable to do something, anything to make himself feel useful.

If there's one thing I know, it's how to kill monsters. They've got Alexander Anderson of Iscariot; they should bloody well use him.

He shook his head at himself. The lust for battle had come back so quickly. Apparently it wasn't maturity that had taken that from him, as he'd always comforted himself; just age.

Alucard's damned taunting didn't help his restraint any. Every time he saw that smirking face, his hands itched to shove his bayonets into it. He wanted to cut Alucard into little pieces, dance on the pieces and then have them launched into the sun. Let's see you come back from that, abomination.

"It might be an interesting trip, Judas Priest, but not one I'm ready to take yet and not one you're able to send me on." Alex didn't look away from the target he was methodically destroying with thrown knives.

"Yet, Master." He was trying to use the hated word, but wouldn't say "Master" without mentally translating it to a variety of less friendly epithets.

"You're a Catholic priest. You of all people should know that just mouthing the word without meaning it isn't good enough."

"I was a Catholic priest. I was a servant of God. Now I'm just an abomination like you, Master." He threw the last bayonet and followed it with an improbable thrown sword that split the sturdy target like paper.

He walked over to retrieve his weapons. He was pleased with the covers he'd fashioned for the hafts. He was able to handle them without burning himself. He couldn't wear them against his skin the way he once had, but he and Alfonse had been working on new harnesses that would allow him to wear them close to his body without searing his unholy flesh with the blessed silver. It was a constant reminder of his fall.

"Would ye like to do some physical training? I could use a moving target." Alex's smile was all teeth and Alucard was forcibly reminded of their many meetings on less than friendly terms.

"Can you still use your little spells, Judas Priest? Those were some interesting tricks you could play. I'd be happy to see them again." Alucard's smile broadened as his fledgling's smile faded.

"I don't know. I haven't tried them yet."

"Afraid? I thought you were stronger than that. I didn't know that my Judas Priest would be afraid to just try."

Alex growled at him, but turned away. He made a show of gathering his blades, turning his back on the elder vampire. He knew that Alucard was manipulating him, trying to make him doubt; trying to make him give up. He did doubt, but he wasn't going to give the vampire the pleasure of seeing him fail and he would never give up. He could feel Alucard come up behind him, rudely close, pushing his restraint.

He ran the words of the Iscariot creed through his head as a meditation and to keep the vampire out of his mind. When he reached the words, We are assassins! he turned and thrust his bayonets into his tormentor. It felt so damnably good to hurt him, even if Alex knew he couldn't kill the vampire that easily and that he would be punished. He gave two of the bayonets an extra twist and enjoyed Alucard's wince of pain as he sank to the ground.

If only it was that easy, he thought to himself as he turned away. He had an itch between his shoulder blades as he awaited the vampire's retribution, but he was going to take anything that came to him unbowed and uncowed. He heard Alucard begin to laugh, then the laugh split to become a chorus of laughs which morphed into a cacophony of howls that turned him to look, almost against his will.

The room behind him was covered in living darkness. It was filled with red eyes and laughing mouths. He had seen this display from Alucard before, but it was still a horrible sight. It began to reach black tentacles out to grasp him.

He had left all of his bayonets shoved into Alucard's body. Now he was unarmed and at the mercy of one very irritated creature of hell. In desperation, he reached for something that he didn't even know would work. He reached down inside himself for the place where his holy spells had always held themselves ready for his call. At first he felt nothing and felt the first twinge of panic. Then something rose to his summons, something different, but it came.

The air was filled with a swarm of black pages. They flew at the reaching tentacles; some were severed, some were gashed and left oozing a viscous fluid. They kept reaching for Anderson, and he dipped within himself for his magic again. Another swarm of black obscured him from the many glowing red eyes. When the air cleared, both the pages and the fallen paladin were gone.

Alucard's human form reasserted itself and his laughter echoed through the entire Hellsing basement as he pulled blade after blessed blade from his pale flesh.

ooo

Alex was on the roof. He had wanted to go much farther away, but his ties to Alucard would not permit it. He didn't understand how the vampire could exert such seemingly effortless control over him, but it was indisputable that he did.

"It's very easy, Judas Priest. You are my child, and as such, your existence is dependent upon my will until I release you."

"I would be most happy if ye would release me into death. I should not be in this existence. It is anathema to everything I have upheld in my life." Alex was waiting for the punishment he had only delayed in the basement.

"Which is why it is so perfect. It is the perfect retribution. It is the perfect irony. It is perfect in all ways and delights me as few things in past centuries have."

Alex shook his head. "Aye, I know. Ye're thrilled that ye have me under yer thumb. Now, have ye come to finish punishing me for the wee slice 'n' dice downstairs?"

He grimaced at Alucard's delighted laughter. "No, I've come to tell you that I have informed Sir Olivia that you are ready for field work." He turned on his heel and left Alex to stare at his retreating figure.

Alex sat down and tried to wrap his mind around the recent goings on. Sticking knives in Alucard was a familiar activity, even if it had been a good fifty or sixty years since he had last had the pleasure. What left him most disturbed was the manifestation of his magic. It was no longer pure, but as corrupt as he was. He understood why Alucard was pleased, but it was an agony to him. The black pages were the inverse of his holy writ. The profanation of his soul was visible in every tainted sheet.