Well… can't do anything about it now.

Alucard scanned the dark dorm room, a lump sleeping soundly as he glanced over the Police Girl's bed. He'd fazed through the window, and now had a little over six and a half hours to sleep before English. Six hours… Even in the winter, vampires like himself should be getting ten hours of sleep. The dead don't do so well without proper, peaceful rest… No. Not well at all.

The vampire grumbled to himself quietly.

With only the compression of the comforter making a sound, Alucard sat on his bed, a blood packet in hand as he sipped at his meal without much enjoyment. What was there to relish anyhow? Dim crimson stared into a blank wall as the vampire thought. Blood packets were never much to look forward to. Too many non-blood components mixed in, nutrients to feed the cells, anticoagulants- It was almost always just a concentrated stock of red blood cells – not natural blood. Not for him. And rarely, rarely virgin. Though predominantly fairly young blood, it seemed. But, nothing that could excite his palate.

As he drank, he recalled the police officer's horror stricken face.

…Alucard watched the wall and took a prolonged sip. It'd been 'almost' fun. Almost… was straining it a bit. Fun would have been encountering the Judas Priest, someplace convenient. Where they wouldn't be interrupted. Where it wouldn't matter if they demolished a few buildings. Oh, now that… that would be fun.

But no. All he'd done was traumatize a big-headed cop. "Brought him down a few pegs," so to say. "Deflated his ego," a bit, perhaps. It had 'almost' been fun. But only 'almost'. Fun was still a long ways off.

Alucard slept through the six hours, and nearly through the last half hour – awoken when the Police Girl refused to let him stay behind. …Or else, she'd wanted him for something. The little chicken seemed irritated, though timid as usual.

Her squawking grated against his nerves.

"Master! Master! Master, we'll miss class! …Master!"

"…"

"MASTER! Get up!"

"Just shut up - for hell's sake Police Girl. I'm sleeping."

"But-"

"No."

"-Sir Integra-"

"I'll tell her I was asleep."

"But she won't like that excuse."

'Excuse' – that opened his eyes and he sat up abruptly, startling Seras who recoiled back – recalling her inappropriate tone, her unacceptable 'command.' Embarrassed and fretful, Seras noted her Master's bedraggled, bedheaded, and raccoon-eyed exhaustion warily. However he paid her no mind. Instead Alucard glowered at the blank wall he'd observed six hours before, mentally hurling his detestable bed through it. Excuses. No, he couldn't afford to sleep in today. Couldn't afford to do more than he already had… In the likelihood, or unlikelihood, that things… got just a bit complicated because of his loose temper. Well, it wasn't really his fault. No. Not at all his fault, not a bit his fault.

But like anyone would accept that. Of course not. It was always "Alucard's fault," he was always the "bad guy." Though, in general, that claim couldn't really be considered 'unfounded.'

But he wasn't at the root of every god-freaken problem on the face of the Earth! Despite what most people believed, he wasn't omnipotent, all-powerful, and all-meddling. If he were… he sure wouldn't be drinking a blood packet right now.

After a string of 'psychologically contained' and 'verbally suppressed' curses, as he (or was it Walter?) referred to them, a deep groan emerged from a messy curtain of hair that fell forward – as Alucard held his face between his hands. He sat in a mass of bed sheets and comforter and rubbed at his eyes furiously.

Watching, Seras saw that this was doing nothing to get rid of the dark rings under her Master's eyes. She suggested with a hint of sympathy, "…Maybe you could just stay in, for a couple hours-"

"No." Alucard didn't look at his fledgling-chicken, flinging off the comforter and sheets to show that – as usual – he was fully dressed. Shoes– he only stopped to shove his feet into them, sitting on the edge of the bed before pushing off to stride out the door (of course, forced to open it – like a plebian – like his silly, undeveloped chicken who couldn't pass through it like a proper vampire). Seras followed mutely as they went down the nearly empty hallway, towards the elevator.

She was looking at her little Master anxiously, wringing out her thoughts as she worked her lips into pathetic frowns, blunt and fanged teeth chewing her hesitant expressions at times. "…Master-"

Crimson quickly roamed the hallway, finding no ears that would hear the Police Girl. He looked to the elevator as they reached it and jabbed the lower button. "You were speaking."

"Um, yes-" Seras seemed to wiggle in place, smushing the tips of her shoes together. "Um, about last night's… patrol, Master. I-"

"Wait."

Seras' jaws snapped, and her teeth held her lower lip still.

With a few light dings, the elevator door opened, and the two vampires stepped in. Alucard gently pressed the button for the first floor, and the door slowly shut. They began their descent.

"What about last night's patrol?"

Seras saw that his face was hard, he was looking (it seemed) at his reflection in the door before them. The red eyes did not move to meet hers, as she watched their faint reflections, standing side by side. "I talked to the girl, that- …that Father Anderson found with the vampire."

"Oh?" The voice was fairly unimpressed, monotone – but Seras figured it was just fatigue, and a larger than usual dose of Master-grumpiness. Sir Integra-grumpiness was a very similar brand of grumpiness – though, usually more violent (when directed at Master, of course).

Missing Sir Integra even more now, with this reminder, Seras examined the base of the door rather than their reflections, hearing the beeps of the passing floors. "I didn't have the chance to ask her any… relevant questions. So I said that I would meet her today at lunch… But I thought it would be best if you came. …And now it would be too late. So we'll have to see them after class. …Or we could do it tomorrow."

The Police Girl curled her toes and tightened her hands into nervous fists when she heard her master exhale. But he said nothing; at that moment the doors opened and he walked out. As always, she followed after him. They ended up making it to class on time, but it was only once they'd entered the classroom and found their seats that Seras realized Alucard's head still looked like it'd been through a typhoon, and all he planned on doing was napping through the whole lesson.

At least she made sure to pay attention. Just out of respect for their teacher.

…

Alucard wasn't napping.

He was half asleep, at best, for the majority of the class. His thoughts were on the night before, and then the Valentine's day girl – seeing her round, brown eyes, gaping up at him when he'd stood over her. Collapsed on the floor, like the police officer had been, on the sidewalk. Scaring idiots and little children had become a new hobby of his, apparently. …It was rather disgraceful, in the absence of any meaningful work.

Hm. The girl… It'd only taken a few seconds to wipe her memory clean. Erasing the day from the scope of her conscious mind (to borrow from the semi-useless Freud, better suited for bloated aesthetics than the sciences in this day and age). The unconscious, as it were, was predominantly beyond his reach. But the shallow moments, the details that would be discarded by the brain overnight – that were 'blown off' like a 'layer of dust' (as was the sensation); he'd felt them fly loose immediately. Then the memories that would never have been forgotten, these had to be pried off and prevented from reconnecting with any recollection of that Valentine's night.

Any 'deeper emotions' forged that day would have remained. A fragment would have lingered, somewhere discreet, a clipping easily regrown. However. Absolutely no evidence of "love" had been found. So that wouldn't provide any further complications. But another girly to look after? No. He wouldn't be looking forward to that. He'd do his best to avoid it. What reason was there to 'adopt' another one? To add it to their gaggle?

The thought was revolting, as well as exhausting. But the idea of getting a hold of the police officer… he wished he'd gone back for the idiot last night. Waiting this long, it would be hard to dilute the "fear" – though the memory itself could be dealt with easily… Ugh. The stupidity of it all.

Head in his arms, Alucard sighed – ignoring the boy seated next to him. Ignoring the daring poke that prodded his shoulder. Twice.

Alucard dozed for a quarter of an hour, before the intercom announced the end of the period, and the school rules herded them into the next classroom – a prison-like schedule. A prison-like structure. Uniformed. Obedient. An orderly, mandated routine. They went onto their next jailer, and Alucard crept into the obscurity of the back corners of the room. To brood and sleep in this 'cell'.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Father Alexander Anderson. Catholic. Calculus teacher. Iscariot and religious fanatic. Father Anderson strove to be predominantly honest. Lying to demon spawns wasn't truly lying at all. It would be like holding a fish underwater and being accused of drowning it. For the demons, each exhalation was a lie, a sin. Evil filled the hollows of their footsteps.

As the children worked diligently (they feared to work any other way), attempting to solve the problem he'd scrawled onto the projector, bright Iscariot eyes fell upon Seras Victoria, the fledgling of the Vampire Alucard. Her head was down, slouched just like all the other teenagers around her, staring and scribbling, perhaps erasing bits of her work. And there was Harriet right beside her. Beside a demon hell-spawn, cast off of the Satanic creature which tainted the back portion of the classroom.

The Judas Priest felt the bones of his fingers sear with the heat of his wrathful God. He hated this. Hated allowing these monsters to breathe the air that these children would then need to breathe as well. To corrupt them with their presence. To sin, and sin, and sin as they remained undead and moving, 'living', soon to be drinking the blood of God's children (though he didn't particularly care if Alucard ate the 'boy' named John – he was another corruptive element in the school environment). But every instant her hand moved, he wanted to– he needed to kill Seras Victoria-

The priest took a composing breath and shut his eyes for a moment-

-but Father Anderson's teeth ground together even as he reflected on his spiritual obligations.

…

In these tough situations, all good Christians (the [only] good kind of course being Roman Catholics) needed to ask themselves:

What would Jesus do?

Here, the answer was obvious.

If Jesus was here he'd be throwing bayonets into their wretched carcasses, tearing off their limbs, ripping out their hearts, and impaling their bloody remains on a spit so that he could scorch their demonic souls over the fires of Hell. That's what Jesus would do. Despite the lack of evidence that might support his Savior's homicidal (or vampicidal) urges, Father Anderson glared at the fledgling Hellsing vampire and imagined Jesus' will. While ignoring what his (reasonable) mind pulled out before him, the fact that Seras Victoria had yet to drink. That she had yet to become a true vampire…

Seras had looked up and now paled, staring back with a wide, fearful gaze. Large blue eyes. Of a girl who'd been human. Recently, been a human child. Now distorted and ruined by her undead Maker. She was another one which had accepted vampirism, rather than die and go to the (vampicidal) Lord above.

Seras was spared as Father Anderson returned to the projector and asked the class to give their answers. The first boy got it wrong. The second girl got it wrong. And the raised hands wilted. The John boy in the back had a long arm in the air. But he was clearly looking off of the Hellsing monster's paper. The monster had actually participated. … Now the boy's lips moved – he was speaking to the Vampire Alucard. The crimson eyes connected with Anderson's. Briefly. Then looked away, and the head went into the arms again. And the boy at the back of the room put his arm down.

The dutiful math teacher showed the class, step by step, how to answer the problem – in one (long and tortuous) way, and then in another (short and efficient way) – so that they had a better chance of remembering whichever method made more sense to them. If they got both, then all the better for them. He might even require the students to answer with both methods on the next test. That sounded helpful.

He was an effective instructor. (Debatable).

But he hated these demons. (No Debate There). And delighted in the fact that he had power over them, so long as they remained his students. And when he handed back a quiz for the teens to spread out to the rightful owners… he watched Seras accept a paper with her name on it, and then stare. Become concerned, slouch over it and gnaw on a finger as she read through the lines. She looked up at him, but seemed stung by his stare, and averted her face – down into her arms. Like the monster in the back of the classroom. Only this one had been pleasantly 'defeated' – by his quiz.

The priest now sought the back of the room, seeing the white papers fan out over the seated students. The John boy reached over the table to take a paper from a girl. He looked at it, casually, then hesitated, then looked with bewilderment and he nudged the Vampire Alucard violently with the back of his arm – so that Father Anderson caught part of the growl beneath the rustling of papers, murmurs, stifled complaints. Alucard snapped at the boy, then looked drowsily at the quiz paper. He reached for it and sat up, leaning back in the chair, scanning the questions and neatly printed answers. A fanged smile parting the disgustingly, colorless, white face. And scarlet flared in the eyes that grinned at the Priest.

Yes. A large, fat, crimson zero. And a note that said: "No work. No credit." Father Anderson smiled, quite smug after this double victory. Oh did he enjoy being a calculus teacher – (at this specific moment). It began to feel like a temporary blessing. And his tortured soul was appeased.

Meanwhile, Alucard had set the paper down on the table, and sat smirking at the Catholic with folded hands. This was quite a novel battlefield. Though it was one that failed to become daunting, in any manner. What did he care about GPA's? Grades, and what not? However, despite this, he did like the prospect of contesting with Anderson's newfound power. Even though he was exhausted and his head was cloudy - vigilantly seeking an opportunity to drop into slumber.

John reached over to the girl in front of them and took his quiz paper – and he quickly pulled Alucard's towards him as he compared the answers. He'd gotten a 40%, with four out of ten correct answers. For the ones he'd gotten correct, the answers matched Alucard's. But he scowled at the "No work. No credit."

"This is F-ing bull sh*t!" [Censoring accredited to Father Anderson]

The voice made it through the other murmurs, the shifting papers, the rolling pencils, the thrumming, uneasy hands on table tops. Father Anderson was glaring at the boy, displeased with the loud outburst he'd been unable to prevent with intimidation (he believed in Machiavellian instruction, as his students were well aware). But he shifted his glare to Alucard, automatically attributing the disruption to the monster – who was the sole perpetrator of everything deviant.

Although the boy had been hoping to win some positive response, perhaps thanks or praise, for his daring behavior - which he had dedicated to the red-eyed victim seated beside him… John found that Alucard wasn't paying any attention, engaging in a staring-contest with their teacher. Not to be put off by this lack of interest (in him), John clicked a black pen and swiped at Alucard's quiz, before offering it to the girl with a sheepish smile.

The vampire looked the quiz over without any detectable emotion.

A one and a zero (as well as a %) had been added – producing a black and red 100%, with a happy-smiley face filling the red zero. Since there was no obvious reaction to his 'cute/sweet gesture', John took the paper again, and then pushed the revised draft towards Alucard. Now a black arrow stabbed into Anderson's note, applying John's own judgment: "Since when? Mr. Harris won't agree with you, asshole."

Alucard asked in a flat tone, "Who and how is his opinion relevant?"

"Um, he'd our principal. Which is usually a guy we never see, but seems to be a big deal, somehow." He went on to expand upon the great principal's influence.

While the boy was still explaining how Alucard should challenge the grade, the bell rang and Alucard shot up like a loaded spring – causing John to jolt and then sit rigidly in his seat. Given that Alucard tended to be among the last to leave (all of) their classes, John was mute, more than mildly confused as Alucard grabbed his blue satchel and shoved a notebook and pen into it, before slipping the quiz inside. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" John objected, indignantly – overly loud, as though he needed to make up for his brief period of silence. "He's being unfair! And he's a horrible teacher! Everyone here will support you, I'm serious. They will. They all think the same thing."

"Doesn't matter."

"But it does matter! Don't let him push you around!"

There was a snort as Alucard left John behind, the jock trying to pack up quickly. But when he'd finished, Alucard had already made his way over to Seras-

Harriet was there. As always, hanging around Alucard's sister. Just, there was no getting rid of her. … John frowned as the girl watched him walk towards them. He acknowledged Harriet briefly with a glance/nod, and then kept his distance. Feeling rigid and uncomfortable. Annoyed by just having to stand this close to her.

Focusing again on the Hellsing siblings, John overheard a part of what Seras was saying – unexpectedly, she was talking to Harriet.

Harriet's voice was clipped, her posture was hostile. Everything indicated that she was irritated by John (and Alucard), and wanted them to leave – or for Alucard to leave and let John stay behind. Her emotions were contradicting one another. "No. Why would I have Francine's number? I don't even know her."

"How about Rebecca?"

Harriet scoffed, incredulous. "I don't even know who that is. I've got another class. Seras, come on-"

"But I was supposed to meet with them." Seras responded, when her arm received a tug.

"Fine!" Harriet let go and strode off towards the door, clutching her bag at her side, the strap heavy on her shoulder. She was intercepted by Father Anderson, but she glowered at the priest and dared him to speak to her. "Leave me alone."

As Harriet left with a train of students, Father Anderson stood looking after her. Silent. But he began to watch the group near the middle of the room – where Seras Victoria was speaking. And he listened.