Hello. I'm back from vacation. Did anyone, by chance, miss my updates? Getting visitors but no reviews feels sort of uncanny. (Could anyone enjoying this story perhaps just lift their head, go "Yep!", and get back to reading? I mean - that would at least let me know, you like it :) )

I don't own Hellsing or its characters and I do not make money by this.

+++Chapter 5+++

Seras found herself sitting on a wooden floor, and she knew she had to be inside the tree. She also knew, Pater Anderson was somewhere near – she could hear him rant, then his boots clicked, as if he were walking forward. But if he had discovered an entrance, it had to be a different one, because he did not pass her, not even close.

Just how big was that tree that could impossibly exist, anyway?

»He's gone«, Seras' companion, the red-haired woman, said.

Seras squinted to get a better look at her rescuer: »Excuse me, but – are you Ann?«

»You may use that name for now«, the witch said, examining the bayonet in Seras' back. »This is déjà vu. Just the other night I was visited by a vampire, who also had a bayonet stuck in his ribs.«

»He's my master.« Seras flinched, as the blade was pulled out. »His name is Alucard. I'm Seras Victoria.«

»Nice to meet you«, Ann really appeared to be pleased. »How is your master? Have you come for my gift, too?«

»Er...to be honest, he is not happy. None of us is. Please. I am sure, you meant no harm, but – my master has not been human for so long. I don't think, he can adapt. Or wants to...«, she added, hanging her head a little.

»I know«, Ann said. »It's almost funny. I lectured him on anagrams, before I had even bothered to read his name backwards. Now, it seems so obvious that I am ashamed of myself. But I was so eager to help. Maxwell introduced me to this big, blonde ape of his, and told me that this Roman ogre would be after a certain vampire that night.«

»Why did Maxwell know you?«

»Iscariot has a list with our names. I am a registered witch, so I can be sure, the only toothy monsters that come to visit me, are vampires, seeking deliverance. But this particular nosferatu, Anderson would bring to me, to cast my spell as a favour for Iscariot. Maxwell said, if I refused, his loyal fanatic would kill the bloodsucker with his blessed knifes. So, I agreed. Didn't think too much about it. After all, I've never had any complaints so far. Never heard of a former vampire wanting to re-enter the night. Well, it usually was their own choice to seek my help, it's true...«

»Will you help us take back your spell, then?« Seras asked, happy that it should be so easy.

»I cannot«, Ann said. »You see – the power has been given to me as a gift, too. But there's a woman, a young lady with long, almost white hair...?«

»Sir Integra, my master's master.«

»A lot of hierachy, you've got there. Drinking your master's blood would set you free, you know that? Ever thought about knocking him out and getting yourself a mouthful out of him? Or two?«

»Of course not!« Seras screamed.

»Well, I would«, Ann dead-panned. »I'd probably be on him with a piano, an anvil and a shotgun, like some good old cartoon character.«

»He'd laugh off his head.«

»Aye. That's when you need to tackle«, Ann said grimly.

Seras stared at her, then she giggled, imagining the scene.

»Anyway«, Ann said. »Your master's master will need to talk to the Lady Sculd about this. I'm sorry, you cannot do it. Vampires have their own access to the worlds of the occult. It does not normally involve dealing with rituals or deities. I will teach you the spell, so you can pass it on to her.«

»Wait!« Seras said. »What about Anderson?«

»Don't worry. Ancient Mother Ash is showing him the way home. Back to where his roots are.«

Integra had not really expected Alucard to seek the company of chattering humans. She had not assumed, he would wait for her in the corridor, either. But somehow, she was surprised, when he was not in her room. Then she remembered: He could not be in her room, since he could not phase through the door and she held the only keycard.

For some time, Integra sat on the sofa, waiting for Alucard to get in touch with her. When her patience wore thin, she went out on the balcony to look for light in the room next door.

She found a ladder, leading up on the roof over her room.

The roof was a flat rectangle of about ten square meters, before it started to slant upwards. The platform was like another balcony, a great place for sitting and looking down into the mansion's gardens. And sure enough, that was, where Alucard had retreated to. He looked like he was having a picnic, with a collection of items – boxes, glasses, bottles and his fedora - clustered around him.

»You're back early, master«, he greeted her, not in the least surprised that she should follow him to this lofty place.

»Where does that ladder come from?«

»I asked the mansion staff. They are well-trained lap dogs. No questions, not even queer faces. When they were gone, I used it as a gangway from my balcony to yours.« He gestured at a pile of blankets. »Please, join me. It's a beautiful night.«

Integra climbed all the way onto the roof: »Is that a cocktail?« she asked, pointing at the pear shaped glass in his hand.

»It's more of a toy«, Alucard held the straw between two fingers and looked at his drink. »It's white. And blue. If you stir it, the colours will blend. So I try to suck out all the blue stuff first.«

»It's called Blue Curacao«, Integra said and added: »You're drinking cocktails?«

»Just sucking out the Cure-A-Blue-Chow-Chow.« Alucard corrected. His straw hit bottom, making slurping noises. He lifted the glass to check. When he found, he'd run out of blue stuff, he refilled from a bottle, standing beside him. And because he needed more white stuff to suck out the blue stuff from, he also added coconut cream and vodka. »Master? Do you want some little crumbs of mouldy cheese on crackers? I've got them, too«, he offered. »I would trade some for one of your cigars.«

»You're joking, right?«

»This whole affair is a shitty – sorry, master: a sick joke. They are good, though. The... crackers.« Seeing the look on her face, his voice trailed off and he straightened up. »Well, master. What did the old slug tell you?«

Integra summed up her conversation with Sir Witherspoon, trading a cigar for cheese crackers and, without really noticing, helping herself to a handful of salt sticks. She left out the details about the rude questions, she only told Alucard, that they had been asked.

»So, there's a ritual and there's conditions«, she finally said, snapping the last two salt sticks in the middle. »But I stormed out, before he would tell me more. I'm sorry.«

»I understand«, Alucard said. But he sounded disappointed. He looked out over the parc-like garden, where the last glow of the sun made a nice backlight for the towering obelisk.

Immortality is a boon of gods, not meant for humans, Integra thought: »Look, Alucard, before we proceed - is it so unthinkable that you might grow to like this new life that has been given you?«

»Master, did you really have to ask that question?«, he asked, sounding perplexed. »Do you know me so little? Have you not understood, what I am, at all?«

»Well, I - «

»I'm not a human. You cannot compare me to yourself or Walter or anyone you know.«

Integra frowned: »Don't get worked up. I only want to make sure, you're not missing a chance. I would not want you to regret, what we're about to do, later.«

A ferocious look came into Alucard's eyes: »How can you – how can any mortal, who measures the span of his life by months and years – talk to me about chances?«, he spat. »What do you know about the consequences of chances given and missed? What do you know about regrets? True regrets, as they come from sins that will condemn your soul to eternal darkness?«

»I will not be spoken to - «, Integra began.

Alucard pulled off his gloves and, using his fingernails, ripped open the gash, that had been cut by Walter's wires. He turned his arm, so the blood flowed down freely: »See my blood, master? Seras Victoria was made from it. What kind of vampire would I become, if I were re-made by her? Do you wonder? Do you want to find out? For that is the only chance, I've been thinking about lately.«

Integra's temper rose: »Alucard! Get a grip on yourself!«

Alucard narrowed his eyes: »And do what?«, he asked with deadly calm. »Acquiesce in the knowledge that the wolf agreed to become a rabbit, just because you said so? Do you think, it would work? Aren't you perhaps overrating your own powers once more like you did, when you were fourteen, Missy- «

Integra got up, covered the little distance between them and slapped Alucard across the face. Hard. »Shut the hell up!«

Abruptly, Alucard fell silent. He stared up at her, a hurt look on his face. His lips were slightly parted, showing his white eyeteeth. Not quite fangs, but prominent none the less.

»Now, show me that hand!« Integra took off her tie and energetically started to bandage the bleeding wound. While she was at work, she explained: »Walter warned me, something like this might happen. It's alright, if you feel helpless. It's alright, if you rant. But I want you to understand, that I will not tolerate disrespectful behaviour.«

Alucard wriggled his hand in her grasp to grab hers.

And the trickster's charm was undone, Integra thought crazily, looking at his naked fingers, drying blood on warm skin. Stretching, she reached for his cocktail gear. And the mage became mortal again, and for some reason, his saviour saw no other way than draw her sword and cut off his head...

Maybe the story lied. Maybe it was just an act of dominance.

Alucard grinned, as she shoved the glass into his hand: »Master, have mercy!«

Yes, my servant. Or mercy.

Anderson felt beleaguered from all directions. He walked endless wooden corridors, following stairs up and down, taking turns, listening to female voices whsipering and laughing.

At some point he recognised the voice of the Hellsing draculina. She seemed to recite a spell in a foreign language. Another woman cut in, correcting her and encouraging her to try again.

Anderson was certain, they were trying to put a spell on him. Roaring with frustration, he slammed his fists against the wall. They had to be on the other side! He stabbed with his blades, but the wood was hard as steel. The blade broke off and he almost gashed his own leg.

When he turned, he found the grey squirrel sat in the corridor, watching him and wiggling its cute muzzle.

For the third time in ten minutes, Integra dialled the number of Sir Witherspoon's household on her cell phone. If no one answered now, she would go and find them. She was perched on a blanket against the slanting roof with another blanket around her shoulders. Alucard was propped up against her crooked knee. He had not spoken for some time.

Probably the vodka taking hold.

In the hope of getting him off his self-destructive musings, Integra had made him down his full glass at one draught. Her generous mixture had taken the fight out of him so effectively that she almost felt guilty.

Now, he looked off into the garden, dreaming with open eyes of the wild forests of Wallachia. At least, she supposed, he did, because in the early stages, he had whispered to himself in his native tongue. When she asked, he told her, he was reciting ancient war songs, and he would rather not translate. ("Don't get me wrong, master, it's nothing to do with disrespect. But it might yet offend the ears of someone, who flinches at the idea of calling a "shitty joke" a "shitty" - see there? You've done it again!")

Integra put her cell phone away: »I've tried to get back to Sir Witherspoon...« She found her own voice not reliable and cleared her throat: »But his butler told me, he's gone out on an urgent errand.«

No response. A bat fluttered past. Integra felt Alucard's body tense as he followed it with his eyes.

»I'll try again first thing in the morning. Perhaps, if I apologise nicely - «

Without turning his head, Alucard groped for her wrist: »Don't!«

»Why not?« she asked, startled by his unexpected, passionate reaction and the warmth of his hand. Alucard seemed at a loss for words. Eventually, he said: »You're too proud to crawl before a pickled slug, master.«

Integra's face hardened: »Well, since I am such a short-lived creature and unable to oversee the consequences of my actions...«

Alucard grimaced: »I regret, what I said earlier, master.« He stopped, thought again and smiled: »On the other hand, I'm so exceptionally wasted, I don't think, I should be held to anything I say.«

»Manipulative beast!«

Alucard snickered, but, as it seemed, more from habit than anything else. His eyes started to drift shut.

»Before you fall asleep, let's get one thing straight.« Integra shifted her position, the better to support his weight. »Do you remember the night, when the strigae were outside, clawing to get into Hellsing mansion?«

Alucard blinked lazily to indicate that he did.

»That night, you had me crouch in a corner of the room«, Integra went on. »You practically sat on top of me to give me cover. All I ever saw of strigae, were billowing feathers and exploding ancient faces, framed by your legs in front of me. And there were so many other occasions, when you protected me. Why do you think, it would hurt my pride now to make my apologies to a British gentleman, if it served to help you?«

»Because he's not a gentleman«, Alucard mumbled. «And I'm a monster.«

»Also – and in no particular order – dead drunk, homesick, mentally exhausted, physically injured, freezing cold, half asleep and high on nicotine. And fond of cheese crackers.« Integra smoothed a black strand out of his face. »The monster will have to wait in queue, until we've sorted out the more pressing issues, don't you think?«

Alucard's auburn eyes looked like those of an overtired cat, dozing in the sun, and his smile was just as pleasantly drowsy. Integra smiled back. There was something endearing in her semi-conscious, befuddled tom-cat creature grabbing and holding on to her hand: »Master...go to bed, you'll be cold and uncomfortable...«

»I'll be fine«, Integra told him bravely. »Just don't forget to breathe, that's all you have to worry about.«

Still smiling and clasping her hand, Alucard gave in to the number of things that made it desirable – and inevitable - for him to get away from it all for some while.

Integra did not dare move. He needed to sleep so badly. Drifting in and out of slumber, she sat with her vampire, until her cell phone snapped her out of a weird dream. She answered it and listen to Walter's report, asked some questions of her own, then put the phone away.

»Alucard«, she said. »Are you awake? Seras Victoria has contacted Walter. She has spoken to the witch. Walter is picking her up, now. For some reason, she's out of London. They'll make it here in about - «, she checked her watch, »three hours. Somewhere around sunrise.« She nudged the vampire on her lap, feeling her back and legs ache from his dead weight: »Alucard? Do you hear me?«

No, he didn't, she could see it by the deeply relaxed look on his face. Alucard was sound asleep; he had completely missed the phone call and he did not stir, when Integra removed her legs from under him.

»Some guardian!« Smiling, Integra wrapped and tucked her blankets around him. When there was not even a perceptible hitch in his breathing, she retreated down the ladder, to her bed. Getting some proper sleep, before Seras Victoria and Walter arrived with the instructions on the ritual, Seras had learned about.

When she was gone, Alucard snuggled into the blankets, making himself comfortable with his new position. The faintest of cunning smiles played on his lips, but it was neither conscious, nor did it stay for long.

Anderson realised, that he would not be able to harm the squirrel, no matter, how hard he tried. The demon was moving in its own unholy surroundings, so its magic was probably just too strong.

When the pater ceased flinging blades, he became aware of the fact that he had neither paid attention to directions nor time. He might have been chasing the creature for minutes or days or even weeks. And in doing so, how many stairs and corridors had he passed by? It was a maze down here, but now, he found himself in a rather steep tunnel, leading up.

It seemed, he had chosen the best possible moment for giving up on the chase.

Anderson walked toward the exit and pushed open the door. He had planned to emerge with a battle cry on his lips, but his voice caught in his throat. He knew the low white building, he was looking upon. He knew, which windows would be open to let in the breeze of the warm night, and the names of the boys dreaming in the dormitories behind. He knew the patches of perfect lawn and how much effort and water it took to keep it in the blazing Italian sun.

He just did not know, how the heck he'd walked all the way from London back to the orphanage in the Roman suburb.

The little cypress tree, he had stepped out of (how had he fitted in there? It was hardly thicker than his arm), definitely had a branch in it, that much was clear. He cut it down without much fuss, and was about to run after the grey squirrel that fled across the lawn, when his cell phone broke into a Gregorian chorus.

He answered and was confronted by a very angry Maxwell: »Anderson? Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you - «

»Enrico...«

»The bitch and her lap dog are at Sir Witherspoon's mansion! The old crook has alerted one of his clerical confidants, and the intelligence was passed on to me. Thank Goodness, there are servants, who keep me informed on their moves, so - «

Anderson eyed the squirrel that sat on its haunches and wiggled its whiskers at him: »Enrico! I'm in Rome!«

There was a short silence. Then: »What the fu- faithful?«

»I followed Alucard's fledgling vampire into a tree. Must've wandered around for hours. And several hundred miles.«

»Then get the he- heavenly sprits on a plane and get back here to London!«

»I'll be at Heathrow in about four hours«, Anderson promised. »Have a car ready for me at the airport.«

»I'll be there myself. On second thought, I'll even get you a plane, now. Whatever foul spell you're under, I don't want you to end up in Australia.«

Phoning for a taxi, Anderson sneaked off the premises; he did not want to scare the boys, who thought him in London. By the time, he reached the airport, the private plane was almost ready for take-off. He was airborn within half an hour and touched down at Heathrow two hours later. Maxwell waited in a car next to the tarmac and the driver set off at freakish speed. Destination: Witherspoon mansion.

+++End of chapter 5+++

A/N: I seem to be grabbing my motifs from all languages and myths, I ever heard about. "Strix" is a Latin/Greek word for "Owl", folklore knows them as an early kind of vampire creature. The idea and image of Alucard target shooting his own antique predecessors was just to good to omit, once it had formed. Well, I hope you enjoyed and "stay tuned".