Sanctuary to the Lost and Damned

Chapter 13: Father's Lament

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An: Thank you for the reviews. I do read them and they do help.

Please keep giving me feedback.

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1939

Arthur Hellsing sat at his desk one late night. Arthur's nights had been reaching the early hours of the morning...

The young man returned home from London about 3 months when he learned of his father's deteriorating health.

The man had been dead for almost a month now, but Arthur still could not believe that his father was dead. His relationship with his father was certainly not what he had wanted it to be. Of course there was his parent's divorce; after which he was sent to a boarding school. Before then his father had always been distant. He was sure that his father had never meant to be, but the man was always missing from his life: both physically and emotionally.



His earliest memories of the man included the man being always too busy; He was always busy in the lab or gone to a place where only he and God knew; neither he nor Arthur's mother ever did.

He had always wanted to spent time with his father. He would go to his father's lab only to be told by Alfred or some maid that his father was not to be interrupted. His father was never to be interrupted. Arthur would go weeks without seeing or speaking to his father and that was while the man was still on the property.

When the man left to protect the country...and world, he would not bid either his mother or himself goodbye. To would leave sometimes for months without so much as a letter telling them where he was or how he was; He was sure that at times his mother must have believed that the man had either run off with a woman, or was dead; He knew that he had sometimes wondered if his father would return.

He remembered his first meeting with the Monster, which he discovered later on was actually a vampire, whom he called Mr. Alucard. He had been afraid of the imagined monsters in his room. He recalled how he had argued with his father about it and how it had been Alucard who had given him his sense of security.

Arthur was always bothered by the lack of information about his father. His friends always seem to know a lot more about their parents than he ever did. He remembered having a brief friendship with the gardener's son. The boy knew many things about what his father did, about how his father needed to fertilize before planting and how when pulling the weeds out to make sure that the root was still attached. He knew nothing for sure, only that the man required absolute solitude or to be away from his home.

He had heard the rumors of what his father did from his friends, but it had been Alucard who had told him what he had wanted to know, and would probably not have gotten from his father for many years. His father had tried to deny what the vampire told him, but the boy had heard the sincerity in the vampire's voice. He could not understand his father's reaction to the vampire telling him this; He had always thought that it was wonderful. It was like discovering that your parents were movie stars. He might have told the neighborhood if Alucard had not told him not to. He, being very young and not understanding what his mother had been told had revealed the truth while in an argument with the woman many years later regarding his education.



His mother had attributed the divorce to her fears of having to bury her son as a result of an unsafe living environment for her son and herself with Alucard's presence, though Arthur had known the real reason.

She was lonely.

She had grown tired of always being alone. Always being told that he was too busy doing something in his lab to go with her to the opera, to the parties held by various aristocrats. He was even absent from the parties which Arthur's mother hosted at the mansion.

His mother had always told the guest about how busy her husband was or how important his work was, often mentioned the fact that the King himself was pleased with his work. She had instructed Arthur to say the same sorts of things. Deep down inside she was getting fed-up with her husband's absents. He thought that perhaps by bring some of the parties to the house; she might have been able to convince him to attend. After a while his mother had stopped asking him to come with her to these public places and parties.

It had not been long before she had met a wealthy judge from Cambridge, who was much better than Abraham, at dividing his time between his work and family. They had a relationship for several years before she left Abraham and married him. Arthur now had a half-sister, which he knew would be attending a finishing school before long.

Though at first he had hated his being sent to the boarding school, but the private tutoring he received at home was not as enjoyable. He had met many friends there. ; His closest being Hugh Islands.

He was sure that his father did not fare as well from his absence. He had tried to communicate with his father through the telephone and by letter. The man responded to his letters often many months after they were sent and he was always told that his father was not there despite hearing the man's voice in the background. He had even showed up at the family home. The man was usually gone or plan too busy to see him. It seemed like old times; expect that the man's liquor cabinet always seemed to be in a state of constant flex. It was frequently empty then filled quickly up.



He had gone to see the vampire on a couple of occasion. The creature's room door was locked shut.

Six months before the man's death, his father had sat down with him they both drank a couple of bottles of Abraham's new wine. The man after too much had started to apologize to Arthur about a great many things. He apologized to his son about not being there for him when he was younger. The man had started crying. Apparently he had not realized the extent of which he was absent from the lives of not only to Arthur and his mother, but also of his second wife, until Richard's mother, was admitted to the institution for severe depression after she tried to commit suicide with medication that she took from Abraham's medicine supplies.

He apologized about his vampire being so much of a problem. He even told Arthur that he had the creature under complete binding constrictions in some underground cell. He told Arthur that Alucard would not be a problem to him anymore. As Abraham had said this Arthur remembered the time he stood outside of Alucard's room and heard the harsh words and the torture which the vampire had been subjected to. He never thought of the vampire as a problem. The creature had always gave him a sense of protection

He had prayed to God many nights that his father would always return to him. He still believed that God had answered his prayers especially as he read through his father's journals.

He almost could not believe that his father had survived all of his encounters with the supernatural.

It was his duty as the new head of house to take over his father's work. The journals were written in a way which was not meant for public release, as they contained a mosaic of science and personal insights. Arthur at times found reading the journal very difficult. He had never before realized how much his father's handwriting resembled chicken scratches.

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A blond Werewolf opened the door to the room where the pack ate their meals. As soon as he did all the eyes of the room were on him.

He got his food and sat down at a table full of werewolves.

Immediately they all had to be somewhere else. Normally having someone sit down at their table they didn't like would warrant a request to leave or some sort of argument, maybe even a fight, however this particular werewolf was the largest and strongest among them. He was nearly twice the size of some of the werewolves in the pack. They all knew that anyone who tried anything would find themselves in an early grave.

In a normal pack structure this werewolf would have found himself the alpha by default. But this was not a normal pack. They were being kept by humans. They all knew what that arrangement entailed and most had handed over their lives freely to survive in a world that was snuffing them out; others had no choice in the matter.

Despite the common belief that werewolves had no choice but to transform under a full moon, this was a half-truth. With enough years of experience a werewolf can gain control over when and how often they could transform. The younger werewolves, often unaware of what they were had no control over themselves, so they were often the most dangerous when they transformed; they were also hunted down by humans most frequently.

It was true that the presence of a full moon did make the transformation easier; it made healing faster and one's speed quicker. It was the time of the lunar cycle in which these creatures were at their prime.

This particular werewolf was the oldest among them. So he was also the one with the greatest control over his powers.



Another blond werewolf appeared in the view of this particular werewolf. This werewolf had a long scar on the left of his neck. It was the sort of scar which could have only been made by a silver blade.

He was wearing shabby clothing, with holes in several places, just as the rest of the pack. Their master only provided them with proper clothing when the werewolves were required to look presentable; The Master didn't want for them to embarrass him. The rest of the time he didn't care what they wore, even if it was unseasonable. Their master didn't consider them as anything other than intelligent beasts.

"Hello, there." The other blond werewolf greeted him. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

This particular werewolf guessed that the others didn't either, as they usually choose to eat at a different time than he did. It was fairly typical for him to eat in this room alone.

This other werewolf had a habit of hanging around this particular werewolf. The larger one didn't consider him a friend but often welcomed his company. He didn't know if the other werewolf truly wanted to be his friend or if he was around him for his own protection against some of the stronger members of the pack.

"Now, I'm not sure what this is," the other werewolf said referring to a type of slop-like stew in the bowls the werewolves were being feed that day. "But that one," he then pointed to a dark haired female werewolf, "says that if you add these," he then held up a salt and pepper shaker. "That this stuff tastes a bit better than road-kill found after week in the sun." the other werewolf then added the salt then pepper.

This particular werewolf looked down at his food.

The other werewolf shoveled some food into his mouth. "Not bad. I have eaten road kill that tasted better though."



An auburn haired werewolf tapped the other werewolf on the shoulder. "Are you Schrödinger?"

The other werewolf turned his head. "Yes; I'm Schrödinger."

The auburn haired werewolf straightened his back. "The master wants to see you in 20 minutes at his firing range."

"Will do." Schrödinger said very informally. He didn't have a reason to be formal with that werewolf. After all that one wasn't his superior. "Hey, why aren't you eating?" he said turning back to his companion across him.

This werewolf said nothing. He never said anything. Many of the other werewolves thought that this added to his intimidating quality. He never talked, smiled, or laughed and barely showed a sign of emotion.

"You should eat. If it's what I said...It really isn't half-bad." His companion said trying to get him to eat.

This particular werewolf was disturbed knowing what would happen to his companion at the range. It downright disgusted him.

Schrödinger caught this look. "I don't like it either, but what other choice do those like us have."

This particular werewolf rose abruptly from his chair. He left; his meal still on the table. That bowl would remain on the table for hours, days if he chose not to return. No one would be removing the bowl in case he came back wanting it. That was the way things were.



As the werewolf left, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his tattered trench coat. He cut across the lawn heading for the wooded section of the estate where he could have some solitude.

It disturbed him just how far he had fallen. He had never been a wealthy man, but as a human he had held a sense of pride. Now he and his kind were treated like animals. He knew that this was how the master regarded them.

He knew that a man by the name of Dante had once listed pride as a deadly sin. He wrote that it should be avoided as it would lead to one's down fall. This werewolf knew that Dante had never had to live as this pack was. He felt that they could do with some pride.

He thought about what would be happening to his companion in 20 minutes. It bothered him that Schrödinger didn't seem to mind being a moving target for the master's aim.

'Do onto others as you would have done onto you'. That line popped into his mind. He supposed that such divine rules only applied to humans, so their human master felt that he could do whatever he feels like.

Unaware to this werewolf, watching him were a pair of blue eyes from behind the round rimmed glasses of the master's daughter.

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END of Ch 13

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AN: The king that is referred to, is George VI; Father of the current queen Elizabeth in England.

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Preview of the next chapter: Praying Companions

Walter eyes fell to a one inch silver cross that Abraham had started to hold.

"Do you have one?" Abraham asked referring to the cross.

The boy held out his self-carved wooden one. It was misshapen and had a bit of an unpleasant smell. Walter brought it out with embarrassment. "It's not really a good one..."

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