Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, readers who have added this story to their alert/favorite list, and those who follow along quietly! I cannot put into words how much your support helps.

Just to let you all know ahead of time, it may take a longer while to get the next chapter out, as some personal matters have come up at home.

Please read, review, and enjoy! : )

I do not own Hellsing.

Waking in a place she did not remember falling asleep in was unsettling enough, but Amelia nearly screamed when she noticed the man observing her from his seat across the room. How long he had been there she could not guess, but he seemed eager to greet her now that she was conscious, for he was out of his chair a second after she scrambled to her feet. His face is familiar, was all Amelia had time to think before the man addressed her.

"The last member of the Harker bloodline: to what do I owe this pleasure?" His voice was deep, carrying a certain degree of power and confidence that made Amelia hesitate with the knowledge that her own voice sounded rather insignificant in comparison. Then again, she did not fully understand what he was talking about, and slightly put off by his mocking bow, she refrained from answering.

Red eyes… How many people in the world are there with red eyes?

"Not even a week has passed since we met," he reproached, though his smirk widened into a devilish grin. "Have you already forgotten?"

Amelia's frown deepened as she searched for a memory of the man. She turned her head, trying to picture him from another angle, dressed in a different outfit. Not a soldier.

"You were standing under the archway only a few nights ago, out of the rain." He had run out of patience. "Your dress was the same, but I see you've attempted to cut your hair."

Amelia glanced down at the mention of her garment, dismay and recognition prominently displayed in her wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression. Concerned with her appearance, she failed to notice the man move closer, his eyes narrowing in anticipation of her response.

"A dream. I'm dreaming again."

The man stopped short, quiet for a few second as he considered her. Eventually a low and throaty laugh rumbled from his chest.

He has sharp teeth, Amelia noted, her attention returning to the figure in front of her. I don't like this dream. She turned her back to the man so that she was facing the room's only door, planning to exit the fantasy world. There was no denying the approaching sense of unease.

"A dream you say?" The laughter ceased, but Amelia could detect a smile in his voice. His amusement struck her as unfriendly, derogatory. Being disrespected and mistreated might have been unavoidable in reality, but she would not stand for such abuse in a dream. It was enough to send her marching towards the door without a backwards glance.

"We're not finished, Harker." The change in tone was sudden, all traces of humor gone.

An unpleasant chill danced down Amelia's spine, slowing her step. Her fists clenched defensively at her sides. Yes we are, yes we are. I'm ending this dream now! She lifted a hand, readying to meet the doorknob, when her shadow on the door was engulfed by a larger one resembling the man. Her breath caught in her throat as she imagined how close he must have been standing.

Amelia spun around. The room was empty.

How?

Another 180 degree turn. The tall shadow remained.

It's just a dream.

Then the shadow was moving, protruding from the surface of the door, its dark mass becoming tangible and features more distinctive all the while, until it detached itself completely from the wooden surface. The man in red now barred her way. "Let's talk."

Unblinking, Amelia pulled her hand away to clutch at the cloth over her breast where a scar had once been. "Talk?" she squeaked. The desire for conversation was neither what she expected nor what she wanted to hear. "S-sorry, I need to go—now." Repeating in her head that everything was a dream wasn't making her any less afraid.

"Where would you go?" The man spread his arms, gesturing to the space around them. "Through the window, the floor, the wall… Into another dream?" he mocked.

Amelia bit her lip. Releasing the grip on her gown she switched to pinching the skin of her forearm. Wake up…

"Where would you go, Harker? Your house has been deserted for over a week, and your mother's flat cannot accommodate more than one person. Aside from the concerned neighbors, no one has come looking for you. I don't think anyone knows you're gone." His words earned a bewildered look from Amelia.

"That can't be. I-I disappeared over night. I haven't been to work, or—"

"We told your employer you were involved in a matter of national security," was the short and simple explanation, as if it adequately answered all the questions surrounding her absence.

"What!?" Amelia's face instantly heated in embarrassment at her outburst, and she dragged herself another step backwards, letting her hand drop from her stinging forearm. After I was kidnapped, did someone from Millennium communicate with…? They wouldn't, would they? That's much too considerate. But if no one is aware that I'm missing, why did he come to look for me? How does he know all this? Slowly, she began connecting dots, hoping, but a little reluctant, to believe in the conclusion she was reaching.

"What—," she corrected herself, "who are you?"

Something in her expression must have changed, holding a glimmer the man wanted to see, for an excited, almost wild grin stretched across his face. An instant later it was gone, replaced with a mask of cool satisfaction.

Amelia judged it wise to take yet another step back, disgruntled.

"I have been known as 'vampire,' 'Dracula,' and many other titles to some," he said in a nonchalant manner, "but to you…" He paused only a moment. "I am Alucard."

Alucard. Oh.

"A-ah." She hoped she wasn't grimacing. That's… not what I thought he'd say. But that might explain—wait, when did I start believing that this is real?

"You've heard of me."

I haven't liked what I've heard. "Doc's mentioned that name."

"Hmm?" The vampire stepped closer, and Amelia unconsciously stared at his fangs. "A friend of yours?"

Amelia shook her head vigorously. "I don't want anything to do with him or the others!"

"Being held against your will?" In a couple more steps the distance between them was lost.

"Y-yes." Amelia fidgeted nervously with her hands when she realized she had unintentionally backed herself against a chair and could move no further.

"Where?" Alucard leaned forward slightly so that they were at equal eye level.

Darting left and right, Amelia's eyes hovered on everything but his face, flustered by the close proximity. "I-I-I don't know," she stuttered. "Everything is green and the weather's warm. There's an old hangar. And a lot of security…"

Alucard grunted. "You can't get out on your own."

"…No… Um… You said 'we' earlier. Are you… working with someone?"

His chuckle was mirthless. "No; I do not work with others. I serve one master, carrying out orders that no other subordinate can perform as well as I." He tilted his head to the side, the movement positioning his pearly whites near her collar bone. A wary glance confirmed that his glowing orbs were indeed travelling along the length of her neck.

Amelia opened her mouth but found herself unable to vocalize the next question, so dry was her throat that she felt she would choke on the words. And so she held her breath, kept perfectly still, never made eye contact, and refrained from swallowing—because who knew what sort of actions whet a vampire's appetite.

"I imagine she will not allow your 'companions' to keep you hidden away." Amelia was certain he was talking about the master he had mentioned, but it was difficult to concentrate on what he was saying when each breath tickled her skin.

After what seemed a very long time, he pulled away, his gaze calculating. "Have you been bitten?"

Allowing oxygen back into her lungs, Amelia looked shocked. "No—" The rest of her answer was cut off as the room spun before her, and she put a hand to her head, temporarily disoriented.

"Miss Harker?"

"What?" Blinking, everything came back into focus.

The scenery had changed.

Amelia tensed. She was lying on her back, in bed; a pair of hands rested on her shoulders. Her gaze flew to a set of twitching feline ears directly above her. With a startled yell she bolted upright, her forehead knocking into the forehead of someone who did not anticipate such a reaction.

"Ah!"

"Ooooh!"

Both teenagers cried out, pressing hands to their heads.

Amelia leaned backwards and Schrödinger stumbled away from the bed. "Uugh. Why didn't you tell me you were going to do that?" The cat-boy moaned.

"What were you doing?" Amelia shot back, wincing as she pulled her hand away from her forehead.

"Waking you up. You didn't answer when I knocked, so I invited myself in. I shook you to see if you were dead or not." He smiled mischievously and shrugged, as if saying, 'you never know.'

"I'm not dead." Amelia glared and rubbed her neck. And I don't think I'm dreaming anymore.