A/N: Sorry this chapter is so late! I got caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holidays and had precious little time to write. But now that everything's settled, hopefully I can find a more regular writing schedule. I'm glad you guys seem to be liking this so far. Your feedback is always much appreciated. Hope you continue to enjoy!

CHAPTER 5

Venom of God

Abigail slammed the door on the vampire's face. Her fingers shook fumbling with the lock. That all-too familiar laughter echoed in her head. Oh, little Hellsing. The back of her neck burned. We've played this game before. We both know how it ends. From the next room came the sound of glass shattering.

"Mom!" Abigail raced back to the dining room. One of those rank, peeling creatures was crawling through the broken window. Its eyes were dull black voids and from its throat came those awful guttural moans. It fell to the floor in a stinking heap and dragged itself back upright, rocking side-to-side. There was another one behind it. And another one. Rebecca was on her feet and stared in disbelief at the lumbering creatures. Before Abigail had a chance to yell for her mother to run, Rebecca hissed.

"Abigail, upstairs in the back of my wardrobe there is a Ralph Lauren shoebox." Her eyes never left the approaching ghouls. "Inside it there is a gun. I need you to grab it." For a moment, Abigail did not move as the improbability of her mother's words sank in. All three ghouls lumbered towards them now.

"NOW, ABIGAIL, HURRY!"

At her mother's scream, Abigail flew towards the stairs. She climbed them like a wild animal and rushed down the hall towards Rebecca's room. Flinging open the doors to the tall, wooden wardrobe Abigail rummaged through the litter of clothing, tossing silky blouses and underthings out of the way until she found a shoebox which matched Rebecca's description. It sat in the far back corner, crushed and forgotten. "Emergencies Only" was scrawled across the top in thick red ink. Abigail lifted the lid. Inside was a sleek, dangerous-looking revolver. On one side, there was drawn the fading outline of a white cross. For a moment, Abigail reeled as she beheld the weapon. So, her mother had known. She had known all along and never breathed a word of it. If that was true, then all those things Integra claimed about her father…

Bile rose in her throat. But the clatter of chairs being thrown, forced her to stow her astonishment. She grabbed the gun and bolted back to the hallway. Before the staircase there was a loft overlooking the first floor which allowed Abigail an ample view of the dining room. The table was overturned, Rebecca had smashed a chair against the marble counter and held out one of the sharpened legs at arm's length. Despite the fire in her eyes, Abigail could plainly see the way her mother's arm shook. The three ghouls had her backed into a corner now. Rebecca caught sight of her daughter who held the gun at her side. A sad look flitted across her face before she shouted. "Aim for their heads, darling!"

Their eyes locked for a moment and in that instant there was an eternity of unanswered questions between them. Questions which burned inside Abigail like embers. They would survive this, she vowed. Then she would hear the truth once and for all. Abigail cocked the gun to the best of her abilities. Her gunmanship had not much improved since she had last fired one a little over a week ago. She closed one eye and let out a steadying breath, trying to find some semblance of aim. She fired. The bullet missed the mark entirely, smashing straight through one of the cabinets and shattering a shelf of glassware. She cursed. Took aim again. Fired. Slug whizzed past one of the monster's ears and flew into the wall in an explosion of splinters. She cried in frustration, firing once more. This time, she made a hit, but not where she wanted. The bullet lodged itself in the shoulder closest to Rebecca to seemingly no effect.

At this point, Rebecca was completely backed against the wall. She gave her daughter a pitying look as if to say, "it's okay, darling." Directly to her right was the fridge which chilled Rebecca's white wine. Agonizingly slow, Rebecca knelt to open the door to the cooler and reached inside, withdrawing a flask Abigail recognized but had never seen used before. It had been in there for as long as she could remember. She'd always assumed it was some kind of expensive, top-shelf liquor meant for the most special of occasions.

And then the ghouls fell upon Rebecca with sudden alacrity. Using her teeth, she uncorked the flask and sprayed the contents in a swooping arc over her attackers. As the liquid made contact with their skin, the ghouls writhed in agony and steam coiled in clouds around them. Abigail looked on the scene in shock.

"Mmm, holy water?" That unnatural paralysis gripped Abigail in place as the saccharine voice of the vampire dripped into her ear. "Your mummy is positively naughty." Something cold gripped the back of her neck before she sank into unconsciousness.

Waking up was like swimming to the surface of a deep, dark lake. The first thing she became aware of was how blistering hot she was. Her forehead was drenched in sweat and her clothes stuck to her skin. Her eyes opened on their own accord into small slits and a blinding light forced them shut again. She tried to take a breath, but something offensive filled her lungs and she coughed hard. Abigail tried to sit up and an icy panic seized her when she found her hands tightly bound behind her back.

Her eyes flew open and found her childhood home burning around her. The flames were up the walls and licking at the ceiling. The dining room floors—where she now lay- were clear. Though if she were to sit up the smoke might very well suffocate her. Her eyes watered painfully from it even as low to the ground as she was. Then a melodic humming came from somewhere behind her. Abigail twisted and strained her neck to see.

She saw her mother tied to a kitchen chair. Her head hung low, dark hair draped around her shoulders, covering her face, in a frizzy, filthy mess. Rebecca was crying, pleading and coughing violently against the smoke. Meanwhile, the vampire danced and twirled around her, humming his jaunty little song, and pouring some kind of liquid all over her. Gasoline, Abigail realized with horror. She flailed uselessly against her bounds and screamed.

The vampire's head pivoted freakishly fast and he was beside Abigail the next moment, reaching to hoist the girl up to stand beside him.

Rebecca shrieked. "Leave her alone, unholy god-forsaken demon!" Her cry held all the carnal ferocity of a mother's desperation. "Please, please, please." The fierceness died away into a mix of racking sobs and coughs.

The vampire, unbearably clean and immaculate in this chaos, tutted gently while Abigail thrashed in his grip. Somehow the smoke did not touch him. Around him was an aura of clean air which allowed Abigail to breath with some ease.

"Demon? It has been said before..." He seemed to chew on this thought for a few moments, as if he found it funny. He seemed completely unbothered by Abigail's wild movements and, in fact, smoothed her hair as he pondered. "But God-forsaken? Hardly. In fact, quite the opposite. I assure you, the Almighty is with me every step of the way. I am his wrath, his severity, his poison." Out of thin air, a lighted match appeared in his hand. His eyes grew soft and distant, as if admiring the beauty of it.

Abigail clawed at his face, tears welling in her eyes. "Why are you doing this?!" She screeched. "Who are you?!"

He tore his attention away from the flame and looked at her fully. She stilled at having those eyes so completely on her. In them she could see the rise and fall of civilizations, all the agony of the ages, the very gates of hell. "I told you that you were the lucky one, my dear," he ran an icy finger down her cheek. "I just did not realize how lucky. And then word got back to me that you were a Hellsing? My, my, my how the tables turned. Fate is a fickle mistress, as they say. When I learned what sweetness, what nobility flowed in your veins I just knew….tell me, little Hellsing, are you a virgin?"

The question was so startling that for a moment she couldn't answer, but after a beat she gave a weak nod of her head, unsure what the right answer was. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked painfully, exposing her throat. His leaned in close, nose grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. "Of course, you are," he murmured. "I can smell it. I am going to drain you to the point of death, and then you will drink of my ambrosia, my amrita, my soma, and from these ashes, my dear, you will rise perfected and whole and immortal." He released her hair, gripped her chin and forced her gaze towards Rebecca whose head rolled to one side, unconscious from the smoke. "Your mummy is not so lucky, I'm afraid." He crooned almost regretfully. "I saved her from the ghouls for you. But I'm afraid she doesn't have the purity necessary to follow you into your new life. But not to worry, fire purifies all things." He turned his gaze back to the lit match which miraculously did not move any farther down the wood towards his fingers. It just flickered at the tip, as if waiting for his orders. Abigail resumed her thrashing. "Now, now," he wiped away the tears which fell down her cheeks. "There is honor in this death."

And with a flick of his wrist, he sent the match flying across the distance. Rebecca blossomed into breathtaking flames instantly. Abigail screamed and screamed and screamed as she watched the fire eat at her mother's flesh. Rebecca never once even opened her eyes before the flames swallowed them too. Abigail's throat was raw, hot tears streamed from her eyes. The monster whirled her around and held her head between both of his hands, staring at her intently. He cocked her head to one side and ran his tongue along the length of her neck. Abigail shuddered through her sobs.

"And now, dearest, you will enjoy life everlasting. It may seem I am being cruel now, but believe me: you really are the lucky one."

The tip of his fang just barely scraped her neck before a great force sent him reeling across the room. Abigail fell to the ground with a thud, unable to break the fall because of her bound wrists. She craned her neck to see what was going on. A dark shadow emerged from the fiery threshold. A familiar red-brimmed hat and sweeping coat became visible as the figure entered the room, the barrel of his gun smoking.

Alucard's red gaze locked on to Abigail's big, imploring eyes. A moment passed between them, but once he ascertained she was mostly unharmed he turned his attention to the russet-haired vampire. Behind him, a whole platoon dressed in fire suits and gas masks stormed in, heavily armed and guns pointed. Seras Victoria brought up the rear, coming to stand beside Alucard with an animalistic look in her eye Abigail recognized from the night she tore apart the ghouls.

"Mr. Bernadotte," Alucard spoke. "Take the girl away from here. Bring the rest of your men with you. This is a fight I don't think you want to be a part of."

Apparently, the man didn't need to be told twice. He fell out of line and was at Abigail's side in an instant. She couldn't see his face through the gas mask, but his voice came loud and clear through the respirator. "I'm going to pick you up now, ma petite," his voice was distinctly French. "Don't be afraid. You're safe now." He fitted her with a mask of her own before his strong arms hooked underneath her legs and around her shoulders, hoisting her up.

Abigail shook her head frantically, "No, I can't go. I can't leave her here." She motioned to where her mother had sat. The flames still ate at whatever was left of her. Though she couldn't see his face, the man looked like he wasn't sure what to do for a moment. He turned to Alucard who simply shook his head. "No time, bichette, we go now." He removed a flame-proof blanket from his pack and wrapped it around her. He motioned for the rest of his men to follow him.

"No!" She choked on an angry sob as she was carried out. Her cries carried down the hall until she was removed from the house entirely, leaving Alucard and Seras to deal with the vampire quarry they had waited so long to face off with.

For a moment, nobody moved and the sound of roaring flames presided. Then, the creature pulled himself up slowly from his crumpled heap. He brushed the ashes off his front and looked at the hole Alucard's bullet had left in his button-down shirt. The white skin beneath the fabric was smooth and unscathed. The creature clicked his tongue.

"This was very fine silk, I hope you know that." He smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles. "Also, this is not at all how I wanted our first meeting to begin, but after the Valentines' woeful failure I'm afraid I had to take matters into my own hands." He looked around the room. "I see you took away my pretty little pet."

"You were going to turn her, weren't you?" Seras's snarled.

"Why ever not, sweet night child?" He tilted his head. "She's pure of blood and virtue, why wouldn't I add her to my legions? The cherry on top of winning an audience with the esteemed Alucard and his newly minted draculina." His voice was all indulgence as he swept an exaggerated bow.

Alucard raised his gun, aiming for the middle of the creature's head. "We're all ears, little maggot. You've reigned enough hell on my city and my master, I think we are owed some answers. Now tell us, who exactly are you?"

The creature closed his eyes and incanted. "There was another angel in the seventh heaven, different in appearance from all the others, and of frightful mien. His height was so great, it would have taken five hundred years to cover a distance equal to it, and from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet he was studded with glaring eyes, at the sight of which the beholder fell prostrate in awe…" He opened his eyes and suddenly dozens more, big and small, covered his body. They all blinked in unison and seemed to smile wickedly. "This one…is Samael, who takes the soul away from man."

Alucard frowned, lowering his gun. "Samael… the archangel?"

The creature's mouth twisted. "Archangel, demon…the lore never could decide what to call me. It's all just semantics in the end. But yes, they call me Samael. My power is to kill and make alive. You see me now in my chosen earthly form." And what more fitting form than a vampire, a giver and taker of life?

A beat. Then Alucard burst into raucous laughter. "You sad, pathetic sot. You're ancient, I can see that much. Perhaps even as old as I am, astoundingly. But the ages have driven you to madness. You fancy yourself an angel? The archangel of death, no less!" He couldn't wait to tell Walter he no longer had any claim to his moniker! He lifted his gun once more. "I hate to break it to you, but you're nothing but filth. A pathetic waste of existence and I'm sending you back to hell where you belong." He fired and the bullet tore through Samael's skull.

His body remained standing, however, and those dozens of eyes stayed open, unblinking. A poisonous laughter echoed around them. Before their eyes, his head rematerialized on his neck as flawless as ever. Seras swallowed nervously. She had never seen any vampire other than her master display such regeneration prowess.

The creature rolled his neck, as if working out a kink but it was obviously all for show. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by your laughter. In all your years, you have never met an angel. In fact, I very much doubt you even believe in the existence of the Heavenly Host, for all Hellsing's talk of God."

"If such creatures as myself exist, I have no problem believing in angels. What I can't believe is that the Venom of God himself would be so petty as to pick on little girls and boys and set theirs mothers on fire." He motioned to the crisp that had once been Rebecca Wilson.

Samael shrugged dismissively. "Just small cogs in a greater machine. There is a plan, you know. There has always been a plan."

Alucard cocked a skeptical brow. "Let me guess, His plan?"

"Precisely." Samael beamed. "God has chosen the superior race: vampires. A happy middle ground between human and angel. A step in the spiritual evolution. It's time for the worthy humans to transcend their rank as lowly earth worms and taste divine immortality. All those who've rolled in the sinful mud and are no longer worthy will perish and rot an eternity in hell. It's the way God planned it all along. I am the plague and rapture. I will give humanity no more and no less than what it deserves. And you, Alucard." He pointed a finger towards the red-clad vampire. "I want you to be my General. My right hand. You can be so much more than Hellsing's faithful lapdog." He grimaced. "Hellsing, who think they have been doing God's work for generations when really they've done nothing but get in the way of divine planning." His eyes flitted over Seras. "Your lovely Miss Victoria is of course encouraged to join you. She would make a wonderful captain in my army."

"You really are out of your fucking mind!" Seras shouted and she charged at him. His face remained collected, as if he expected it might come to blows. He opened the palm of his hand and an inky black blade appeared. The cross guard was studded with molten gold which appeared to roil and churn, held in place by some invisible casings. Along the blade itself were foreign symbols engraved with shimmering silver. He pointed the blade in front of him, when Seras was mere feet away and she froze in place. The tip pressed into the flesh of her cheek. She was caught mid-stride and grunted in frustration.

"Master, I can't move!" She exclaimed. "He's got me trapped somehow. I- I don't understand." Samael pursed his lips and applied a little more pressure and punctured her skin. No ordinary blade should be able to draw vampire blood so easily. A line of crimson spilled down her cheek as Samael dragged the blade slowly across her face. She cried out.

"That's enough!" Barked Alucard. He lunged towards the creature impossibly fast, knocking the sword from Samael's grip and away from his fledgling's face. He threw Samael into one of the flaming walls and thrust the sword into his heart. Blood came coughing out of his mouth.

"I have had enough of your games, Sam, can I call you Sam?" Alucard growled ferociously. He twisted the hilt roughly and more blood spilled from between Samael's lip. The flames refused to touch him. "You and I both know you're not an angel. You're not a demon. You're not anything. Just a miserable, old fuck whose had too many rotations around the sun."

Samael began laughing hysterically then spit a mouthful of blood in Alucard's face. The sword disappeared from Alucard's grasp like so much smoke and reappeared in Samael's hand. He gave it a little teasing shake. "Did you really think a heavenly weapon would turn so easily on its wielder?" The sword then disappeared entirely with a wave of his hand.

Alucard roared and closed a gloved hand around Samael's throat, slamming him into the wall once more. "I am going to put you out of your misery, you mad man."

Samael sighed dramatically. "Perhaps another time. I think we've done enough damage for today. I'm making you my project, Alucard. I won't give up on you so easily. And once I have you, we'll work on taking care of that Hellsing cunt who delights in parading you around like a show pony. We will speak again very soon. I can't wait to introduce you to my little family." And then he was gone. Disappeared into thin air. And all around them the flames were gone too, leaving behind ashes and smoke-charred walls.

A/N: Samael's little incantation is an excerpt quoted from The Ascension of Moses which I found from an article about the biblical archangel/demon. If anyone wants the source, shoot me a message.