A/N: I own no part of this manga/anime, all credit to those due it.

A/N: I mean for the setting to be in the 19th Century (aka: Victorian era) just to clear up any confusion.

Contains: Slight AlucardXWalter…hints of SerasXAnderson

The slow setting of the sun allowed for the night to advance further into the expanse of valley. Seras couldn't discern the sun anymore behind the trees, or through the grey clouds, their bellies appeared dark and full of rain. She had the luck of getting a window seat on the large bench in the coach. The elderly man next to her was snoring gently, and the others on board were occupying themselves nicely.

The driver of the coach wore a long, black cloak, his hair swept back in a ponytail down to his back. Seras could see the bobbing of his head through the slat of glass separating the driver and the passengers. The horses appeared to need little directing, and their dark bodies seemed at the pique of physical strength. Their feet pounded without end on the harsh dirt road. They had already been traveling in the coach for a long while, and their surroundings showed little chance of stopping before nightfall.

Attempting to be as quiet as possible, Seras took out her journal from under the folds of her coat.

Dearest Diary,

I'm exhausted, to be quite frank, of this bothersome travel. It's becoming a long while of sitting, then standing, then sitting again, and I fear we will never be able to arrive at our destination. The countryside of Romania is both wonderful and something to be feared at the same.

No one speaks to me, and just as I was getting off the train, I was given a letter from my dear aunt and cousins in America. The news had unnerved me to no end. They seemed to not be finding good luck any where, after moving to America a few years ago. They had sent the proceeding:

"My dear Seras, This must be said before you are to move, and we won't be hearing from you after you are working hard far east. Your grandparents had told us to tell you if they were to die. And, after the both of them died inside of a month, I must carry the burden to tell you. Your late parents had been killed, or murdered, not just by happenstance, or even a automobile accident. Perhaps you'd heard of them under the pile of rocks, and it makes my hand shake so, just writing about it and thinking the dreadful thought. But, they had been carved upon, with such blasphemous names, and strange markings. The detectives and investigators said they had been taken hostage in the cliffs near your hometown, and had been some sort of wicked ritual. All about the area around your parents' resting place, various living creatures, from small mice to a wandering cow had been slain as gruesomely as your poor, poor parents. I feel you need to know this, and I ask for you to take this and be at rest. Please send us word, and tell us how your work is going for you. We await earnestly for when we can meet."

This news could make me near ready to retch. But, I needed to make myself right, and instead took that anger and hate, and must direct the energy into my work. This is such grievous news, and I hope our benefactor can at least give us the night, so I might be able to mourn for the night. In the morning, I can be right, and work so steadfastly, that my boss must give me a raise. That's how awfully I want to be rid of my past.

Until next we meet,

Victoria Seras

Before she'd noticed her pen moving on the paper, her entry was done, and her pen dripped ink, smearing in a dark smudge under her thumb. Her mind was worn, and her body was aching for rest, both of the physical kind and of the mental. She felt unsteady and unsure about herself, and suddenly wanted to be alone in her bed in London.

She raised her eyes wearily to assess the souls in front of her. Down the row she looked across the opposite bench; a young, black-haired man with full-moon spectacles and shoes that shined like they were made of oil, an elderly woman with wrinkles and her hair swept up in a tidy bun, a middle-aged woman with high cheekbones and a busty chest hidden beneath a slightly revealing blouse. Of the five people on the opposite bench, only one dared look her in the eyes, and their own eyes seemed to flint from behind their lashes.

Looking closer, he was a dark-skinned man, with a stature of around six feet and ten inches. His legs took up most of the space in front of him, and he wore a long trench coat that concealed most of his body and face. His hair was a short, croppy cut that was almost white, and stuck up all about his head.

His shifty gaze looked like an animal about to be set free, and use your bones as toothpicks. He was a terrifying individual, and he quickly locked gazes with the girl. Seras looked away as she could feel a blush invading her cheeks. A small chuckle came from the man's direction. She still evaded his looks, and instead looked out the window. The road, though it appeared to not get any worse, suddenly did, and those that were sleeping weren't anymore. The ruts and divots in the trail sent belongings flying, along with a select few that were light enough.

Seras felt herself rise from her seat and her head grazed the velvet top of the coach. What was the meaning of this? The driver seemed to not care about the matter, taking all of the blows and jumps in stride. Seras could feel that they had to be close. The worst of it came first before a break in the clouds, so to speak. Her prediction seemed right, and the lot of them crowded to the windows, and looked out past the driver to see the grandeur of the place.

It seemed like something out of an old story of castles and mighty kings that ruled them. Seras felt like a stray being allowed into the inner sanctum of the pedigrees. If the people in the coach had looked beaten-down before, surely their esteem fell a few degrees to find the daunting aura of the castle bearing down on them.

The carriage stopped in front of the massive wooden doors, and the driver promptly escorted them all out into the darkening sunset. He said nothing, but stared at them all with a slightly callous look as he opening the doors with a resounding thud. Once again they said nothing, but went into the dwelling like sheep following their shepherd.

Inside there was not a single source of light, but for elaborate candelabras that stood in corners to give off warm light on the stone floors. The light gave little away, but one could make out the grand staircase that joined the second level with the first. Large banisters guarded the stairs and more candles were placed there as well. All along the marble walls there hung glittering tapestries and paintings that seemed to carry a small piece of the past with them, depicting epic scenes or portraits of weathered men and women. Seras remained huddled near the center of their ring of safety, and it appears she wasn't the only one scared of things in the dark. All of them, even the men, seemed to shirk away from the dank corners and remained near the pleasant glow of the lights.

"Welcome, my seasoned travelers," a lilting voice said, an obvious accent laced through the words. Many of them swiveled their heads to face in the direction of the stairs. An outline of a man was visible, blocking out one of the stands filled with candles. He was a tall man, and Seras made note that the man used every inch to his advantage.

He seemed to overwhelm them with his presence, and they said nothing. Not even bothered by this, he carried on.

"Please form a line, so that I may greet you, my friends, for you have journeyed many long and weary miles to come because of my request," the man said in earnest, giving the closest thing to a smile Seras had seen since she'd been here.

They all lined up, and Seras ended up last in the row. She watched as the men were given a firm handshake, and the women were given a handshake and a light kiss on the cheek. Many of the women blushed, and the blonde woman even sighed a light, airy bit when she'd been greeted. Seras was feeling more and more uncomfortable, and desired to be home in London even more. Finally, her turn was up, and the warmth of Seras' hand was doused in an almost icy bite of cold to the handshake. She had to contain herself from instinctively shivering. A light peck followed, with a trail of breath trailed by as the man introduced himself.

"I am Sir Alucard, and your name, Miss?"

"S-Seras Victoria. . .My Lord," she mumbled, staring at her shoes, wringing knots in her hands.

"The pleasure is mine, Seras, and I'm sure you'll do fine here."

"Thank you, Sir."

With one quick grin he walked off toward the staircase, and stopped, turning around with a knowing look to his dark eyes.

"As you've heard how the saying goes 'many hands make light work,' I myself am a firm believer in that philosophy. I also think that rest will be something important to be had when one has been working hard. Tonight, please rest, so that when dawn breaks we will be able to cooperate like a machine. So," the Sir said, looking at a pocket watch, "As the nights grows older, so will we all if we stand about. Assignments will be handed out to each individual based upon their previous history. Good night, all."

With that, he led them each up to a room more than fit for a king, and Seras nearly lost her breath from the sheer size of her own room. She shut the door, as to hide her growing smile. A four-poster bed was concealed by a gauzy white veil around it, a vanity and her own bathtub were hidden by a curtain in the corner of the room. The white of the porcelain gleamed as her window revealed the mountains rolling in amongst the fog in the night. Though the weather was cold, Seras felt the warmth of the hot water of the washtub, and the familiarity of being clean.

Both tears of joy and those of pain swelled from her eyes, coursing down her face. She could mourn, and be thankful that she appeared to finally be in a place that would make her fell as if she had a purpose to fulfill.

Alucard was wide awake, in the massive library on the third floor, and the effects of not sleeping for days hardly crossed his mind. He was able to hear them, all of them, sleeping or content in their rooms with little to worry about. He was overjoyed that everything had gone smoothly, and they were all none the wiser. Why would anyone suspect anything in the first place?

"Do you really intend on starting so soon?" Walter said from a particularly large bookcase.

"Yes, I have to, or else some might go snooping about, and I want to put them on-edge a little. Give them something to fantasize about while they go about, like good little mortal humans," Alucard explained while at his desk, all his work done for the week.

"I still think you have too many," Walter exasperated, "One could slip away, and you'd have townspeople and the law breathing down your neck, which is admittedly visible now."

Alucard didn't respond to this, too excited and too far into the game to let Walter get his jabs at him.

"Walter. . .your neck seems well-exposed as well, and I'm overdue for a meal."

The Englishman froze for a moment, a jolt of fear overtook his body as he stopped sorting the books from the shelf.

"That is not in my job description, Alucard," he said slowly, continuing to sort.

"Oh, come now," the vampire said, phasing next to Walter from his desk, "You were sent to me to fulfill my orders until Integral sends word for you. You're immortal. . .I can do nothing to harm the chance that you'll keep living forever."

"But you still forget that you have all the willing volunteers down the hall," Walter spluttered.

"I think people would get suspicious enough if some soul would die the first night, right?" Alucard inched forward, bearing down on the other man.

"What if I turn into a vampire-"

"Then we'll have to find out, Walter."

Alucard breathed down the other man's neck, disappointed that the man was trying to keep his composure.

"I will do as you ask, but nothing more involving. . .this, you have your nest of birds to take from. I'd rather not have myself be a regular one," Walter said, touching his neck gingerly.

"I swear, Walter," Alucard grinned.

In one move, Alucard was holding him in an embrace. The two forms fit together perfectly.

"What do you say, you monster," Walter chuckled, feeling the canine's pierce his slightly withered flesh as it grew taunt.

"Thank you, my servant," Alucard said, giving a toothy grin amid gulps.

Seras fell asleep in a silken gown she'd found amongst the uniforms insided a heavy wardrobe. Her dreams were a jumble, and she awoke with a scream releasing from her dry throat.

"God," she mumbled, reaching for her journal while she dipped her pen in an ink pot.

Dearest Diary,

I've had a terrifying nightmare, that seems to shake me to the core. From what I've remembered, I'm in the middle of a deep and wide lake. I cannot see the shores, and I find I can walk on the surface like that of glass. I walk a considerable amount all while the sky is dark, until I feel something grasp my leg.

A pale, white arm drags me while I scream until my breath is gone. I take one look at the body dragging me deeper. I wake up with the morbid and dead face of my father staring at me with the most gleeful expression.

Writing of it all at once brings tears to my eyes, and I can do nothing, since it's quite late in the night. I hope I can forget this quickly, but I hear someone padding about outside my door. I'll need to go and investigate this.

Earnestly Worried,

-Seras

Seras put down the leather-bound diary, lighting a candle and stepping out. She held it in both hands to keep them from shaking on their own. She whispered a hoarse call.

"Hello? Show yourself."

The shuffling stopped, and all was quiet for a few moments but for the creaking of a staircase or the settling of stone.

". . . You'd better put our yer candle, child," a Scotch accented voice grunted from behind her, making her drop the stand, immediately snuffing out the flame into the rug under her feet.

"Peace, evil spirits be drawn to sources of light, like yer flame." Seras turned to see the tall man from the coach, priest robes donned and a crucifix clutched in his gloved hands.

"My pardon, I didn't know sir," Seras said.

"Aye, be innocent and unknowin', child of God. My name is Father Alexander Anderson, and yours, girl?"

"Seras Victoria. If I may ask, what would a Father like yourself be doing being a servant?"

"That certainly is a question. I'm here on a mission from God, the Vatican has informed me that unholy and lewd acts have been carried out in this region for many a century. I be here to discover the heart of them, and stomp it out," Anderson exclaimed, a fire burning in his eyes from behind his round spectacles.

"-And the crucifix?" Seras asked.

"I am putting a blessing over this place before I begin investigatin'. I seem to be havin' more trouble feeling at ease here. Darkness and evil seem mortared into the walls themselves, and it's making me unrested," the priest said, tapping the dank stone of the wall.

Seras nodded, fearing that what he was saying was true. Oh, if only she'd never left England, and stayed where the sun could shine. Hearing these words made her shiver, and the whole castle seemed a lot colder and foreboding than before. Anderson seemed to notice this, and placed a hand on her shoulder. His strong fingers held her steady and quieted her tremors.

"I have one last question, Father. Why would you tell me this, if you are on a secret mission?"

The Judas priest seemed to contemplate, before answering with a smile.

"It seems that I be able to discern innocence, and I knew that you were a pure child, that wouldn't tell a soul. You will do this for me, won't you, Victoria?"

"Yes, Father," Seras answered, giving a friendly smile, and putting her hand on top of his.

"Alright, might I tell you something more, to forewarn you?" Anderson asked, his face turning slightly serious.

"Yes, but come to my room, where we may talk privately," Seras said, turning to the door and allowing the towering man to enter before locking the door back up tightly.

Once they were inside, Anderson took a chair that sat next to the vanity, and Seras sat at the edge of her bed, her legs tucked underneath her.

"Please, continue, Father."

"Very well, child. Now, I've been making notes about the group of us arriving since we were all on the train a hundred miles of track ago. And, it appears that each of them have a sort of training in weapons, is it true of thee?"

Seras froze a moment, remembering back to her grandfather taking her out hunting, and being part of the armed forces. She'd of course taken classes, and was well-trained in sharp-shooting. Though it had been a few years. She hesitantly told the priest this, and his face seemed to fall.

"Aye, so it is true, I began to grow suspicious when I saw the old woman slide something sharp under her skirts, and if I'm not mistaken the younger man with us carries darts under his cuffs. Don't be fooled by these beaten-down people. They are as lethal as a wolf wearing the skin of a sheep, be on yer guard."

"A-Alright, I will be, Father," Seras said shakily, absorbing the idea of the old man hiding a gun under his bowler had, it contradicted everything she'd grown up knowing. She herself had nothing of a weapon, but a handgun and one round. Nothing for heavy-damage and more for show than anything.

"Good, good, and call me Anderson, or Alex," the Judas Priest said hurriedly.

"Right, thank you kindly, Anderson," she noticed how late it'd gotten, "It must be bothersome having to talk me, so I should be turning in."

Anderson rose from his chair, approaching the obviously small girl, placing another gentle hand on her shoulder.

"We must stay as allies, if we're to get to the bottom of this matter, Seras," he said.

The last thing he did, was place a kiss on the girls' lips, chaste and gentle. It was warm, and Seras was surprised at how intimate it was. Not just a farewell, as like a kiss on the cheek in greeting a friend, but closer.

"Goodnight, I'll greet ye in the mourn, Victoria," Anderson said with a knowing smile while closing the door. It clicked shut, and she ran clumsily to bolt it shut.

Her face felt flushed and hot, her thoughts very flurried as she crawled under the covers. What did he mean by that action? A kiss? Did it mean something than what it meant in England? He was a priest! He wasn't meant to do things like this in his oath of chastity.

Hastily she covered her face and body under the thick wool blankets, automatically shifting into the fetal position. Her thoughts were brought to a halt by one fact.

That was her first kiss, by any person out of her family, even on the lips. The thought both warmed her, by the fact that it was only that. But, it also chilled her that she hadn't prepared for that, and that it was to a man who appeared much older and knowing than her. Of course, he was a wonderful man, who seemed to be doing nothing but the will of God, it was admirable.

However, she'd expected that sort of thing to be like a dream, slow and expected, predictable even. The light feeling in her head confirmed that she'd enjoyed it, but she swore to not continue any further with the man.

'Keep it at arms-length, Seras,' she thought, cradling into slumber's arm like a babe in a mother's, 'This is all under your control, always.'

Author: I got it in on time! Huzzah!

Anderson: Such a heathenous farce! I'll cut the lot of you up 'till the dogs won't even touch your bodies!

Author: Shut up! You'll get your chance later.

Walter: I daresay I'd like to get my chance as well. *Glare*

Author: Yeah, we'll see.

A/N: Thanks to anyone that reads this or rates, everything helps.