A/N: And now, finale. To Nalarava the Red's glee, no doubt.

And yet again, give him his props folks. The Big W's reviews have given me the inspiration to go on. And, yet again, his reviews are the only ones that actually involve themselves in this story. If ya'll what to see this sucker go a specific way, tell me so I can ignore you.

But really W, a symbiont? Give me a little credit. I'm at least a parasite.

And those who are wondering, yes this is yet another of my 5 am fantasies that chaotically spew themselves via my fingers onto paper. And yet I retain enough sense to offer this little tidbit: look for your bit in this fic, W.

Memoirs of Hate

Aspects of Corruption

A Confrontation

An Ending

The writing is fresh and disturbingly blood-like to Seras' sensitive eyes. Eyes, which are technically dead, view the world differently. The moon is always a dark reddish yellow, the horizon is the color of her food and the shadows are always very, very long. Long like the fingers of the dead and dammed, reaching out to touch her. With such vision, the young vampiress, though she hated to think of herself like that, didn't need candles or any source of light. Besides, if it was too bright then she would be blinded or, worse, hurt by it. Light wasn't needed in large quantities for Seras Victoria to read by. And so here she was, once again pursuing what seemed, in her more lucid and often panicked state of mind, to be a suicidal course of action. To have sneaked into this room for two days straight, especially after nearly being caught by her master that last time! But he hadn't sought her out, no one had said anything to her about this and she simply felt more driven to read the rest of this book. So when she had arrived she had found the book lying open to a place past the latest writings. She went on alert immediately when she had seen the state of the book. But no on was there. It was just her, the book and the wards tingling ominously behind her. And she still felt an unmistakable sense of wariness permeating her body. A body which cooled into a cold sweat as soon as she worked up the nerve to step close enough to the book to read what was so freshly and disturbingly written. It was eight simple words.

Come to me, police girl. Claim your birthright.

She never even felt the whisper cold of her master's power being worked behind her. His words, in that chilling and gleefully malicious voice, shocked her from her reverie about the meaning of the writing.

"So you came back little one."

She turned. It was all she could trust herself to do, and she didn't even want to do that. As she stared into Alucard's strange yellow-red eyes, her voice trembled, no, squeaked out the one word that had been imprinted on her from the hour of her rebirth:

"M-Master.."

His smile was mirthless, an antithesis to the glee in his voice.

"You have heard of this cliche, haven't you? 'Curiosity has killed the cat?'"

His smile widened.

"But you're already dead. What is to be done with you? Shall I exile you? Banish from your home into the world of the sun, that you may wander under it's light and burn until you find the power to resist it?"

His smile turned a shade cynical, then sardonic.

"No, I cannot do that to my own daughter, my own flesh and blood that I, myself, gave birth to. And I dare not kill you. You are far too well liked around this place. You would inevitably be missed. Eventually."

His smile dissipated into a frown.

"Well? What say you child?"

Her head was hanging low, almost as low as she felt. She had failed her master. He was disappointed by her. He wanted to punish her - and rightly so. But she spoke up. What she would say would probably startle him. He was, of course, expecting a meek apology.

"M-Master? I- What did you mean? My birthright? What is that?"

Alucard's eyes widened. Though not in surprise. Glee yes, surprise no. His mouth curved into a wide smile that displayed his fangs prominently.

Seras was dead. She knew that. He, her master, was going to kill her, and that would be that. She flinched, or tried to, as her master placed his hand on her head. 'So he's going to crush my skull,' came the morbid thought. 'At least I won't feel anything'

Her head was being lifted, then forced back until all she could see was her master's face. He was still grinning, though that didn't give her any measure of comfort. Then his other hand came up and rested on her face, sliding down until it rested on her lips. His thumb and forefinger slid between her lips and gently pried her mouth open. Still holding her mouth open, he brought the hand that had previously held her head to his mouth. His fangs made quick work of slicing open the ulnar artery on his wrist. He held his bleeding wrist to her mouth.

"To claim your birthright, your blood right, you must drink from your master's blood. To claim your power, you must make this choice."

Her lips closed around the wound. His voice sounded through her ears.

"Remember. It is your choice."