More musings about each other (from both of them) than anything else, but I guess some of the fans for this pairing could see it as such. I dunno, to me it seems Anderson wants to kill Alucard because he's like Evil Supreme, and Alucard is just like "HOT SH*T, SOMEBODY WHO CAN ACTUALLY FIGHT BACK! WHOOHOO! CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY THIS CENTURY!" He could squish Anderson like a bug if he really wanted too, but he doesn't. It's far more fun for him to have their everlasting duels and whatnot.

Prompt: We're so far apart...

Dark and light.

Vice and virtue.

Dead and living.

Guns and blades.

Alucard grinned as he swirled the blood in his wineglass.

It was truly fascinating how close and yet how far away the Judas Priest was to him.

Monstrous, yet more human than he had ever been.

Killer, yet more humane that any murderer he had ever seen.

They were polar opposites, and yet so similar at their core.

Kill for Master.

Kill for God.

Fight for blood and carnage.

Fight for destruction of the damned.

Protect Hellsing.

Protect Christianity.

Hate Catholics.

Hate vampires.

Obey Integra.

Obey Maxwell.

Similar, yet so different.

Prompt: Is this a dream?

Alucard's eyes widened in delight as blades sunk deep into his body.

What was this?!

Was this an enemy that could actually fight back!

He jumped away, firing a few bullets into the charging priest.

Yes!

He got up again!

His fangs gleamed as they were bared in a sick mockery of a joyous smile.

Surely this was some sort of dream, some illusion!

But there were those blades again, nearly severing his head!

Yes, yes!

More, more!

He spun into a cloud of chittering bats as they swarmed about the priest, hearing the curses and feeling the sting of silver erase a score of them from existence as he laid about him with those wonderfully painful blades!

Again, again!

His guns boomed as blood spattered the walls, and yet those blades came again and again with the punishing bite of silver, chopping off limbs, piercing organs, severing his head!

Sick, maniacal laughter echoed in the halls, and there was a moment of pause as the priest wiped a trickle of blood from his forehead, watching him, waiting for him to move as he grinned broadly.

Wonderful! Wonderful!

There was pain!

There was a challenge!

When had he last had either of those things?

When he was free?

When he was alive?

When, when?!

Had he ever had both at the same time?

Had he, had he?!

So exciting!

He attacked again, feeling the cold burn as silver dragged across his limbs, making him bleed, making him feel pain.

He could never get enough of this challenge, of being torn open as he tore into, of hacking apart as he was hacked up, no, there was nothing to describe this, nothing he had ever experienced before!

This had to be a dream; this had to be an illusion.

Surely no mere human could be this much fun.

Prompt: White vs. Black.

Anderson sighed, crossing his legs again as the ache in them became too much, turning another page in the dog-eared and tattered bible that was his oldest friend in the world.

The burning hot sun of Italy shone on him fully as he looked up a moment, seeing the boys and girls of his orphanage playing in the sprinkler and hose one of the nuns set up.

Cooling the heat the sun beat down upon them.

He mused on that as his eyes fell back to the page.

It reminded him of something one of the older orphans asked him during a homework debate.

What is cold?

The book's answer had been too wordy and complicated, and he scanned it over before answering honestly, simplifying it for the child.

There is no such thing as "cold". There is only the absence of heat.

So really, all opposites were just absences of each other.

Black was the absence of white.

Ice was the absence of fire.

Damned creatures were the absence of holy presence.

It actually defined Alucard better than he cared to think about.

The absence of morals.

The absence of humanity.

The absence of virtue.

The absence of sanity.

The absence of heat.

Cold.