Author's Notes: I wonder if my brain is trying to tell me something. Is there some kind of special day coming up soon that I should be aware of? Can someone tell me what it is? Oh. By the way. More AxI fluff. Don't maim.

Transient Beings": A VAMPIRE HUNTER D / HELLSING CROSSOVER

TAKE 6 : Lessons in Vampirism

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Seras Victoria gave a little sigh, a tremor racing up her spine when she felt the cold ice wall walking beside her advancing one step for every two that she took. She subconsciously tried to measure her steps to match his own simply to feel less at odds with his height and stature. She only ended up feeling awkward, and then guilty as she noticed him slowing down.

"You still wait for his commands, don't you?" D asked her. It seemed a miracle that he was speaking to her first, and even asking her such a weird question!

She felt his voice cut through the tension like a rusted butter knife. It was uncomfortable being the one under the microscope. "Hey, that's between me and my master! Don't ask stupid questions."

"Fine."

Seras marched up the stairs, switching the rifle to the opposite shoulder. Her eyes glinted red as she passed by the multiple doors, all of them slightly differentiated; some of the staff took up residence here. Maybe it was a gesture of kindness to start treating D like a guest rather than a prisoner. Or maybe it was a ploy to get his guard down so her master could splatter his half-breed brains all over the expensive carpets!

Eventually, Seras's curiousity beat her down again and she wondered aloud, glancing slantily at the dhampir. "So, do you think you can defeat him? My master can kick a lot of arse and he's not afraid to tell you!"

"He certainly talks a lot."

"That's because he's so great that he can and nobody can say otherwise," Seras replied confidently. "And he only talks a lot probably because you don't talk at all."

"I only say what's important." D looked at her coldly from under the brim of his hat.

They turned a corner and Seras stopped, eyes faded slightly as she listened to a voice only she could hear. It was not a case of schizophrenia; it was Alucard, which could be considered worse, as he told her that she should pick a room soon unless she was already engaging in some other physical activities with the dhampir.

Seras straightened up quickly with a scowl on her face. She glared back at D as if it was his own fault. "This one," she snapped, turning to open the doorknob. She turned to enter the room, her eyes unfocused before snapping to the symbol on the wall. She was barely four steps across the carpet before she fell to the floor, arms held before her face, hissing and writhing like a serpent against the agony crawling over her skin. She felt the cold passing of a shadow as D swept into the room, snatching the cross from the wall. His hand smoked as he threw it underneath the dresser, disappearing with a metal tap beyond sight.

Seras looked over at D, relaxing visibly. "It's not that it was hurting me," she muttered. "It just surprised me... that's all..."

"I didn't do it for you." He removed his hat slowly, putting it on the dresser. She was momentarily distracted by his hair before she stood up again, dusting off her knee-highs.

"Well. Other than that cross, this room is as cozy as it gets."

The phantasmic dhampir gave her a final look before laying himself down on the soft, cushioned bed. It wasn't furnished with blankets yet, but that didn't seem to bother him as he let his body sink into the king-sized mattress. He seemed totally uninterested in conversing or socializing with Seras.

"You could at least say thank you! At least you're not sleeping on a cot." Seras found a place for her rear end on the very edge of the mattress, looking around quietly. There were potted flowers in the room, their soft vulnerable colors muted in the dim light. Beyond the window the snow still continued to fall. There was a respectable amount of snow accumulating in the flower box outside, and frost had crept along the edges of the window panes. Beyond that, from this upper floor window, the night was falling again on London and its shattered remnants. But in the small broken windows of the shanty capital, there were yet lights glowing in the blackness. Those who refused death embraced life, and set their candles on windowsills to negate the darkness of the holocaust.

"I used to celebrate Christmas with my crew in the morning and with my family at night. The day I became Alucard's Draculina, I had to think of all the things I wouldn't be able to do anymore. If I wanted to try to be with my family, I'd have to try harder to seem like the way I was. I'd have to fit in... and I'd have to explain to everyone why there would be people in uniforms eyeballing me the whole time." Seras smiled darkly under a fringe of blonde hair. "But I made the choice. I might have had my doubts at first, but isn't that what change is all about? I don't regret it a bit. I can do things no one else but very few can do... and I don't know anyone else can can rightfully call Alucard their master!"

D listened in a silence that was complete, but attentive.

Seras rubbed her knees. "I don't know about you, though. You didn't a get a choice in the matter, you just sort of... were. I mean, as a baby you can't say, 'I don't wanna be born', right?"

Maybe it was the sadness she expressed, but it was a small wonder that he replied. "You should spend Christmas with your family this year."

"Hmph. Figures you don't wanna talk about yourself. You're just like Alucard, then." She swung her feet, boots scuffing on the floor. "Maybe I should... Hey, D..." She swallowed. "Do you have Christmas where you come from?"

"Where I come from, towns celebrate native traditions and also Frontier-wide holidays. It seems this world precedes the Frontier by eons. Around this time of year there's a winter solstice recognized all across the Frontier. There's exchanging of gifts, songs, drinking. It's widely known as a time of putting aside grievances, taking up a creed of brotherhood."

"Not quite Christmas. Did you ever...? Ah, nevermind. Probably not." Seras grinned a little like Alucard, and turned to stare down D. "You're too serious! If you're going to live here as Sir Hellsing's guest, you ought to start behaving like part of the family if you want her to like you more. After all, she's already agreed to let Alucard fight you somewhere far away. In the large foyer downstairs, they're decorating the tree. You should go see it tomorrow morning. It's house tradition to start decorating on the first snow."

D did not answer, but he seemed genuinely interested. Seras gave him one last long look before rising. Her tone of voice changed. "I don't want you to get hurt... but if you kill my master, you'll be killing me as well. I won't be human again. That's the way Midians work. We're the most powerful of all vampires, and the oldest. I mean, I really doubt you can do anything to kill him! No one can!" She perked up noticably. Then she bowed slightly. "Call Walter if you need anything. There's a phone in here somewhere. Only rule is, can't leave the grounds without someone accompanying you."

As she left, D's left hand muttered, "What a stubborn idiot. But at least she's not a bloodsucking bitch like the others."

"Maybe not. But she is his. How long until he uses her to get to me?"

"You're already softening up to her. Those were the most words I've heard you speak since they dragged us out of that damned coffin." The voice came from a face in the palm of his hand. It made itself visible, sneering. "I guess your great plan didn't work after all. Why didn't you just do yourself in?"

"I still had hope."

"That things would change for the better when - if - you woke up? I told you before, like I'm tellin' you now, things don't get better with age. Things die out, they fade, they get cranky with menopause."

"They have pills in this world for that now."

"Smartass. Hmph. You still haven't told me what you're going to do about trigger-happy. Are you going to fight him when the time comes?"

"I have to."

"But what are you going to do in the meantime? You don't expect me to stick around if you're just gonna throw your life away, are you?" The voice was thick with anger, barely formulating the words. "You stupid son of a bitch! He won't fight you unless you give him a run for his money! And in that case, he'll almost definitely kill you!"

"You'll just have to wait and see," D monotoned, glaring at the ceiling. But curiousity made him sit up and approach the window. It was cold enough to freeze anything liquid in a heartbeat. The lights caught in the freshly fallen snow made a wonderland not often seen on the Frontier. But admist that destruction, he saw something he had only seen on the Frontier - a people struggling to scrape hope from the bottomless barrel of despair.

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The snow made a funny sound underneath her feet, something between a crunch and a squeak. It was well after night, the floodlights filling the courtyard with an ethereal blue glow. A dark blue scarf was snugly tucked around her neck, her body draped in a heavy forest green peacoat. Her crystalline blue eyes were thoughtful and distant as she stared into the snow, unmarred by footprints since the snow had fallen. It was a rare moment for her to stand outside and think, alone, unguarded and vulnerable.

Then, she tipped back her head and caught a snowflake on her tongue. It was to her surprise that it tasted cold and sweet at once, like childhood, when everything had its own sweetness, different kinds of good. Christmas was her favorite time of year back then; the tree would go up, and she would walk proudly with her father when he was still alive and give out treats to the guests. Even after her father's death and Alucard had become her solitary guardian and immortal soldier of ill fortune, she still put up the tree every year, the decorations taking days to be put into place.

Alucard would be permitted to watch, often from the corner of the room, sometimes standing, sometimes seated on the wall high up in the corner and offering directions as to what should go where. There would be gold, sparkling lights, silver and black, and plenty of blue. The tree would be hung with dozens of decorations made over the year, and here and there were little fanged skulls, credited to Alucard.

It was bizarre that such memories burned so strongly in her mind. She tasted snowflakes and felt warm instead of cold. She turned to glance to her left. Perhaps not surprisingly, she saw Alucard again, head tipped back in rapture as his tongue stuck out to catch snowflakes. Not a single footprint disturbed the snow around him, as if he had simply materialized into place. His hat was gone, and white snowflakes clung to his midnight hair like waning stars in the frigid cold. His crimson eyes rolled toward her to match her gaze, the rest of his head following to look at her. He looked like a painting, his lips pouting in consternation, his slitted, sleepy eyes fixated on hers as if he had been waiting all eternity for her.

Despite herself, Integra gave a teasing smirk. Her laughter made the vampire smile.

"One more Christmas," she bade him quietly after a few seconds. "Perhaps you'll change your mind about him--"

"No." He approached slowly, calculating each step, his boots crunching gently in the snow, destroying thousands of them every time his heel came down. He stopped in front of her, and tipped her chin up to his face. "Do you want to know what that fool asked me?"

"What did that fool ask you, Alucard?" Integra goaded, trembling in spite herself, convinced it was just the wintry chill.

His soft, gloved touch reached past her scarf to her neck. Her heartbeat was calm and steady, his eyes penetrating. Integra looked away. "He asked me if I loved you." His breath made no vapor in the air at all.

"And do you?" A cloud of vapor flowed between them. She idly pawed at his tie, rubbing the fabric between her bare fingers until he took her hand away, holding it.

"Never." A tiny movement spread his mouth into an almost handsome smile.

"Alucard--" The woman seemed to have frozen totally by his stare. But, rather than be rendered helpless, the master gave her servant something else to consider while she pressed the point of a silver, blessed dagger to his throat and held him at bay. "Don't."

His eyebrow twitched, seeking redemption in the gleam of the dagger. "So you have ceased to trust me."

Integra backed away, replacing the dagger into her sleeve. "The only mistake you ever made," she replied coldly, "was thinking that I ever did." Her savage smile of confident victory gave him a moment to reflect on how much he should hate her for being this way. But she was too smart, overthinking his intentions. His eyes hardened to little red slits, before he reached into his pocket.

Integra felt him take her hand and put the tiny bottle in it, secured with a navy blue bow. His fingertips pressed her wrist only for a moment before he let go, virgin white on milky skin and purple veins. "Merry Christmas, master." The words clung to him all the way back to the door, until he opened them and the red of his overcoat was swallowed by the shadows inside. The No-Life King's last gift to his master weighed nothing in her hand at all. She looked down, staring at the perfume bottle that caught the flood lights and she uttered a soft choked cry of loathing - directed only at herself.

She tucked it safely into the pocket of her peacoat, shutting her eyes. The illusion of Christmas had been shattered by the sight of his lips, so tempting, drawing nearer, filling her lungs with the alluring scent of the undying. But fear had ruined it, and the trusting bond between them grew ever weaker.

Unthinking, she shoved the bottle into her pocket and ran for the door. "Alucard!" she shouted, scarf trailing behind her. She threw open the doors again and looked around, but there was no one in the foyer except for the tree and its attendants. Walter tilted his head and gazed at her, concerned to see her so flustered.

"Sir?"

"Nothing," she cut him off, looking away. "Have some wine delivered to my room in an hour, Walter... I need to be alone."

"Is... something wrong?" Walter pulled her aside and tried to look at Integra's face, but if she was known for anything, it was her stubborn nature. "Alright, then. What kind of wine?"

"Maybe not wine. Send me something stronger."

"Sir. It may not be my place to say--"

"Then don't say it!" she snapped, tearing the peacoat off as she ascended the stairs to her room. Walter sighed deeply, excusing the master's behavior to sleepless nights.

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It was past midnight when Alucard woke again. He had not realized he had been sleeping until the sound of feminine footsteps were descending the long stairway to his chambers. He was tirelessly rubbing a bullet between his thumb and finger, and it was warm from the friction. He let it fall to the table beside his stone seat and stared at the long shadow. He knew who it was long before he saw her; the smell of cigars preceded her coming, and before he could remind her gently about what she promised, he smelled alcohol.

It was too dark for human eyes to see. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, then took a few steps forward, sucking at the cigar, making a glow too small for her to see by. "Alucard."

"Master. You've been hitting the bottle, I see." His voice betrayed his amusement. He admitted that it was not without some satisfaction to see her totally inebriated beyond reason. "Perhaps a little too hard. What do you suppose you're doing down here? You could have fallen down the stairs."

"But I didn't, and that is the important thing." She came forward. The darkness did nothing to hide her voluptuous form. She had come dressed to impress, maybe. Or maybe she had forgotten to change her clothes entirely. Her formless, barely opaque night-gown glowed around her body, set ablaze by her own body heat, wrapped in the sweet cloud of cigar smoke. Alucard gripped the edge of the armrest before relaxing slowly, finding some measure of self-control.

As he was standing, she lost her balance; her cigar struck the floor in a shower of tiny sparks. He was there in an instant when she tripped. But all she knew was that his arms were around her; then she was clawing at his white shirt, pulling it until buttons broke and they scattered on the stone floor. She bit his lip, but her teeth couldn't hope to break the skin. She smelled like lilacs. It was her perfume. When Integra forced a tongue against his teeth, he let her kiss him. Or, more to the truth, he kissed her until the angry fight went out of her limbs and she clung more out of need to stay upright.

Vampires kisses were lethal and unwieldy tactics to use on strong-willed mortals. But he ran the risk of being pulled into her own desire, the hot-blooded lust that ran rampant in her veins. The little slick membrane under her tongue throbbed with blood, tasting strongly of the alcohol she'd been drinking and the cigars she so loved. Tiny, minute tremors raced along her back when he raked his gloved fingertips over it. Even drunk, she was well-versed in the power he held over her at this moment.

She moaned his name and moved her hands over his chest, where his unbeating heart lay. It was terrifying and exhilirating to see her like this, but no matter what his bestial mind craved, he could not, shouldn't, let her actions go beyond this. Her hands felt wonderfully warm on his skin...

She pulled away, as if waking out of a dream. In her eyes, he counted the emotions that sputtered in and out of life. Confusion and shame and guilt and acceptance chased each other in that order, until she lay her head on his chest again, her curving locks of gold (likesunlightinautumn) crashing over her eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured, voice rusty with booze.

Alucard sheltered her in his arms. "Will you go to sleep now, master?" He did not mean for it to sound taunting, but the situation seemed too heavy to stay serious. He stroked her forehead, and her eyes fluttered once before shutting completely. He carried her as far as the stairs, acknowledging the button for the intercom but ignoring it. To spare her the embarassment of calling down Walter to bring her back upstairs the way she was dressed, he decided to bring her there himself.

When he pulled the covers up to her chin, she turned over onto her side and embraced one of her pillows, exhaling deeply and moaning as she did so. Alucard considered the poignant scene for a long time, gripped by a sort of lethargy, well after she had slipped into a more natural sleep.