Sometimes a little soul searching doesn't hurt. When you've lived as long as I have, you learn to only scratch the surface a little at a time. Go in too deep, and it comes out like a tidal wave. And no one wants that... especially not me.

-excerpt from the Vampire Journals

Chapter 19: Welcome to Heck

"So, this one's yours", a thick Scottish accent asked.

Seras barely cracked open an eye to see two shadows standing over her. One wore a cross around his neck, that glistened in the reflective light, and the other wore reflective, red-tinged glasses. Other than that, they were indistinguishable, but it didn't take a genius to know who they were.

"Yes", the other shadow said softly.

"You did it?"

"...Yes."

"What did it cost?"

"...Everything."

For a long moment, there was a silence between the two men, as they observed Seras lying on her makeshift bed.

"Take stock of that cost", the first silhouette said, "and decide here and now if it was worth it."

The other shadow was silent for a while.

"You're right", he finally conceded.

"I'll leave ya to it, then", the first said, as he turned and left the room.

Seras' eyes once more felt heavy, and she let them gently close.

...

Alucard observed the sleeping form of his apprentice, watching her chest slowly rise and fall. She had been through quite a lot in the last few hours, and now, she was finally getting some much-deserved rest. Anderson had mentioned, in passing, that something had happened while she had been near death, something that he couldn't quite explain, and that she had persevered despite the odds being entirely out of her favor. Frankly, if he was feeling his own chest swell, it was from pride.

He adjusted himself on the folding chair the Iscariots had allocated for him, and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the small journal that had fallen out of her own pockets. He wondered if she had worn shorts solely to bring this little journal along, more than likely to record her thoughts about a strange new country she had never been to, and then wondered about the implications of that. She had had those shorts on for almost a day before they had even begun their journey, forsaking her mini skirt in favor of it. She had known about the trip before Alucard had... which meant that Integra was warming up to his apprentice faster than he was.

He scoffed at the thought, and opened up the small journal, figuring it was safe to do so. Anderson had rounded up the Iscariots, and had ordered the large group to give Pip and Six Gun a tour of the massive cathedral, so the Iscariots had moved Alucard and Seras into a small supply closet and left the two of them alone together. So far, he hadn't been bothered by any Iscariot intrusions, so he guessed that Anderson was watching them very closely, and doing a fantastic job of keeping them separate from Alucard.

If he was going to get a look into Seras' mind, now was the time.

The inside of the journal held a great many surprises for Alucard. Seras didn't just draw well; she could have given Bob Ross a run for his money. The drawings were cartoonish, yet lifelike, like something you'd see in an anime that took a whole year per episode to make. Some of the pictures were colored in, and in some ways, they looked more vibrant and lively than their real world counterparts.

And the characters...

Every few pages, there would be either a headshot, or a full-body drawing of someone she had recently met. Their expressions often conveyed a wide range of emotions, from genuine disinterest, to dangerous smiles. Pip had a rather interesting picture in which he was rolling his one good eye, his cigarette perched precariously between his lips.

Here, a picture of Integra, sitting at her desk, her hands clasped together, her weaved fingers perched up over her mouth. Her eyes looked off to the side, as if she were pondering something deep and provocative, and her cross dangled from her neck, one corner barely touching her desk. There, a picture of Walter, a soft, yet smug smile adorning is face. Even though he had Alucard's laundry wrapped around his forearm, he looked completely in control.

The most stunning ones, however, were of him. He had a suave, yet dangerous pose about him in almost every picture, and yet, every picture was entirely different. The most interesting one, a side-complexion headshot from a time when he had begun chewing on the tip of Abraham's old crucifix, hefting one of his handcannons with the intent to eliminate a particularly stubborn rat problem, had been interestingly transplanted to the outside world. Underneath it was a paragraph of text.

Master seems to have a plan for every occasion. He rarely ever discusses his plans with anyone. I wish he would trust me enough to discuss his plans with me. Maybe then I'd feel comfortable enough to trust my own plans with him.

An interesting paradigm, and it only got deeper the more small subtexts he read. Over a picture of him giving Seras a sly half-smile, hiding his sharp teeth behind his tight lips, there were a few words;

Sometimes he looks at me like this. Not quite smiling, not quite frowning. It always scares me.

But by far, one of the most impressive was a side profile of him on the train with Anna. He had perched his head up onto his hands, his smile gone. In its place, he had a look in his eyes, as if he were trying hard to act like he wasn't thinking about much of anything at all.

I wonder what he's thinking about.

Actually, that could sum up almost every subtext here, Alucard thought to himself.

He was being made aware that he was pushing her away, and as she lay there sleeping, he made a conclusion that he had been avoiding for some time.

He was being entirely unfair to her. This unfairness was, partially, her fault. But it wasn't because of any particular thing she had done.

He stroked the area above his canines on his upper lip, trying to feel if there was any amount of bulge or even give to it. No such luck. His venom was still dry.

And because his venom had run dry, he had, officially, lost his one chance at a happy ending.

He had long ago laid to rest the fact that Cain could neither be found, nor killed, and despite the rasping's of his family physician to never give up hope... and stay on task despite said hope... there was no be all, end all cure to vampirism that he had ever come across. Even the tale of Saint Christopher left little hope for his kind when vampires hadn't even been written into the bible.

His last hope, therefore, had been to focus on himself. A longshot within a longshot of a happy ending, with a family of sorts, and a quiet, comfortable life out in the middle of nowhere, something that he had been denied in his former life, and something that had always nibbled at the back of his head, a what-if in which he, for once, could settle down, relax, and put a genuine smile on his face.

The conclusion he had finally come to was that he had denied himself that happiness.

In that brief moment of decision in the woods near Cheddar, after seeing his own reflection in those bright, blue eyes, after realizing that he was, indeed, a hideous monster with no more resolve left, he had given his one chance away so that Seras Victoria could have another. He had given up so that she could move forward. And now he was treating her like shit because he felt like shit.

No. Not like shit. He felt hopeless.

Hopeless in the presence of such hope.

Truly, he was having a "#1 Dad" moment.

"M-Master?"

The sound broke him from his reverie. He glanced up at a face that looked like she had determined what her fate would be, and that she wasn't exactly looking forward to that fate. The way her eyes kept darting back to the little journal in his hands, it seemed like she may have put some stronger language about him in some of the later pages.

He flipped it closed.

"Police Girl", he began, "I'm not very good at this, so I'll just come out and say it. I'm sorry. I've been unfair."

"Un...fair?"

"I've been pushing you away", he said, as he began wringing his hands, "blaming you for my mistakes. That ends now."

He leaned forward in his little chair, his hands still wringing themselves, and continued.

"From now until you graduate, I will treat you like an apprentice", he told her.

Something felt off about that sentence, and the look on her face lent him the belief that she too was unsatisfied with his conclusion. He swallowed a lump that had been forming in his throat, and took a deep breath to even himself out.

"Like my apprentice", he finished.

Seras looked a bit stunned by that declaration, and he couldn't help but to admit that he was a little bit shaky himself. He had always been the rock of any situation he was in. He didn't get emotional, and he didn't let people gaze into the emptiness within him. When the world was falling apart, Alucard was in control. He had to be, because when it came down to it, he was the only one who could finish the job.

"So", he said, breaking the uncomfortably long silence that had filled their little room, "what better place to start learning how to fight like me, than with a basic list of all of the enemies you'll encounter?"

Seras seemed to consider this for a moment, and then nodded.

"Alright", she said, her voice hoarse. "That sounds like a good idea."

"If you have any questions, ask me anything", Alucard told her.

She opened her mouth, but closed it quickly, nodding instead.

"There will be a few things on this list that you'll hopefully never have to face... and a few things that even I haven't faced... or successfully killed."

"Well", Seras said carefully, putting on a deep voice, and odd accent, "at first you had my curiosity... now, you have my erection."

Alucard sat up straight, leveling a questioning gaze at Seras. She shrank back from his gaze a little, perhaps believing she had angered him. Instead of being angry, however, Alucard began snorting, and slapping his leg, a smile spreading across his face, which eventually turned into his head being thrown back in rancorous belly laughter.

"I've gotta remember that one", he declared, as he slapped his leg yet again.

With grin now firmly set across his face, and a humorous air now between them, Alucard started Seras off into the list.

"Alright, then, here goes; the shortest possible list of enemies you will have to face. They can be divided into these categories; Human, Natural, Magic, Supernatural, and Heavenly."

"Human enemies tend to be pretty standard; you've got the assholes who get in the way, and you've got the don't-fuck-with-these-guys. Assholes who get in your way tend to include local and state police, cultists, the Elite, familiars, mercenaries, and stupid retards. I don't rope cultists into familiars, because they're not nearly cool enough to be such. Familiars will be people who have earned the trust of Magical and Supernatural beings; they tend to be pretty tough, and when they aren't, they're crafty. Keep a close eye on them at all times, and wipe the floor with them when you get the chance. The don't-fuck-with-these-guys are people who have caught the attention of Heavenly beings, be they Good or Evil, and, as the title implies, are typically not to be fucked with. We've already run into the Remnant, or 'God's Gestapo' as me and Anderson call them, and you should just stay the hell away from them. As far as the evil spectrum goes, I've heard of a dude who got possessed by a fallen angel and wiped out a small battalion of vampire hunters. You're probably not ready for that, though."

"Natural enemies are just that, natural phenomena that inherently ails or attacks you. For instance, even though we most certainly can walk among people in broad daylight, our powers are limited, sometimes significantly depending on the day. Metals like silver and copper kill you quickly, and since everyone has copper-coated bullets these days, you need to be careful around guns. I know, I know, I'm never careful, but when you become immortal, you can tell me how I should fight."

"There are more natural enemies that you'll encounter, but they're living, so I tend to rope them into the Supernatural category. So, for now, I'll just segway into Magic."

"Magic comes in many different forms, and lots of the enemies you encounter of the magical variety can be roped into other categories as well. Witches aren't one of them. Witches are bitches, fuck witches, we need a Salem Part II: The Entire Fucking World Edition. Witches vary on strength depending on what kind of magics they use. White magic is typically seen as "good", but don't let that fool you, because those assholes can do freaky shit, and they're typically as evil if not moreso than witches who practice Black magic. Black magic practitioners deal with the devil and they know it. If they get powerful enough, they can do anything from conjuring Hellhounds to resurrecting the dead, which flows into enemies that tow the magical line."

"For instance, Zombies. Now, you've got three distinct types of zombies; two that are technically alive, and one that is dead. The two that are alive are the drug zombie, and the plague zombie. Drug zombies are almost only found in Haiti, and I've never had to 'deal' with them. Essentially, they're drugged-out slaves that voodoo dudes use for their plantations. Then you've got plague zombies, which are living humans who have been mentally impaired by some sort of outside factor, such as a virus, which causes them to attack others. Occasionally, we will have to deal with a threat like this, but it's usually a relatively easy job. Then you've got Black Magic Zombies, which are dead humans who have been resurrected and enhanced through the use of black magic. They're usually a challenge, though they're nothing impossible to defeat."

"Lots of vampires will learn magic to try and augment their fighting skills, but they're not magical in nature, hence they don't make it on the list. I've only ever fought one werewolf that had learned magic, and I've been around a while, so I guess you'll be ok there."

"There are other enemies that tow the lines of their categories, too, like the Dragon, which is technically a Natural enemy, but has a few primary forms that put it in other categories."

"Dragons", Seras asked, almost jumping off of her makeshift bed, "Dragons are real?!"

"Of course they are", Alucard told her, as if he were reading the morning paper to her. "They're not even the weirdest thing on this list. They've been in historical texts since forever, kinda like with werewolves, which were called Cynocephalus back then, most notably with Saint Christopher... but I digress. Three kinds of dragon; Drakes, probably baby dragons, really willy, stay out of their line of sight and they won't hurt you. Leviathans, fully-grown Dragons. They are naturally occurring creatures; God even talks about making them in the Book of Job. Alexander the Great has a great post-battle text in which he comes across a sleeping Leviathan, decides to do him in Caesar style, and ends up losing almost an entire Legion because of it. Stay out of their way and they tend not to harm you, but they hate all Magic and most Supernatural creatures, so when I say stay out of their way, I mean a hundred-mile radius might do the trick. Third and most terrible; Dragons, Nephilimic abominations of Leviathans. They're essentially Leviathans that have the amazing abilities of speech and greed beyond belief. Very powerful, very crafty. They'll ruin your lives, but only if they can't convince you to do it yourself. There are such things as Wyverns too, but they're just stout two-legged Dragons, probably a degenerate Nephilimic version of Drakes. Then you've got stuff like sea monsters, but hopefully you won't have to fight any of those in your lifetime. Insert joke about draggin' deez nuts across your face in an attempt to segway."

"Rolling from that straight into the Supernatural; you've met Vampires, and you've met Werewolves, and you've seen a giant at a distance. That giant is from the Nephilim line, which is the product of Dark Watchers and human women."

Seras raised an eyebrow at that.

"Fallen angels banging chicks."

A frown creased her face.

"Seriously, did they not teach you this stuff in Sunday School?"

"Sunday School", Seras echoed in confusion.

"Oh, boy", Alucard said with a sigh. "I guess when this gay trip is over with, we've gotta crack open a Bible together. Ol' Alucard knows a lot more about the contents inside it than the average human. We're gonna read that bitch cover to cover, then we're gonna read all three of the Books of Enoch, then we're gonna read the Kamasutra."

"Which Bible book is that", Seras asked.

"Heh, she doesn't know. All of that aside, besides what you've already seen, forget mythology, all of that shit is real, and most of it's deadly. You ever seen a Satyr up close? You don't wanna. Drinking their blood is like drinking black tar heroin in liquid form, absolutely skin-crawlingly disgusting. Mermaids? Oh, yeah, they're real, too, and they'll sing you a song so beautiful that you'll question your sexuality, then they'll eat your ass. Kracken? One lives in the Bermuda Triangle, among other eldrich horrors. Fairies? Fuck fairies, man, they're bullshit and I hate them. Unicorns? Saw a man get impaled on a unicorn horn one time... it was an accident, but it was metal as fuck. Oh, and demons, too. Demons get into this category, because they are lost souls, departed from the bodies of Nephilim. Demons are nowhere near as cool as what the media would lead you to believe they are. There's also Djinn, which are like genies; they'll grant your wishes, but they take a high price. They can appear in many different forms, and there's no correct way to deal with them other than to ignore or very quickly kill them. Apparently, King Soloman had a ring that could control them; the seal on his ring is the one that was on my basement door... well, it was part of that symbol, anyway. Arthur never finished it, I don't know why."

"And, Ghouls, also ghouls, you've run into them. Humans who were turned into vampires post-mortem. Basically zombies, but stupid."

"How does that work?"

"What, being stupid?"

"No, turning. How do vampires turn others?"

Alucard reached a hand up to his face, stroking those canines again.

"Well, part of the process of being turned is developing a sort of venom sack in your gums above your canines. With that venom, of which you have a limited amount, you can turn a living human into a vampire. I won't teach you how to use it, because you'll never need it."

Seras nodded in understanding.

"With ghouls, you don't need to use this 'venom'; open up a wound, and hock a luggy in there, they'll turn within minutes."

"What happens when you use 'venom' on a ghoul?"

"You waste venom, that's what happens."

"How many more vampires can you create, Master?"

He stared quite blankly at her for a moment.

"None", he said, softly.

"S-so you used the last of your venom on me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

A soft smile spread across his face.

"Because you were worth it", he told her.

A blush began rising to her cheeks, but she fought it back down with another question.

"What were you saving it for?"

The smile fell away from his face. Once again, he stared blankly at her. Then he cleared his throat.

"Moving on, then you've got things like Anna, Regenerators, and I already know you're about to ask me, 'if there are so many bad men with access to vampires, why aren't there more Regenerators?' Easy; they're just about one-in-a-billion. First of all, you have to find the right vampire, a very powerful one, usually. Second of all, you need to use it on someone who is pure of heart, and someone like that is hard to control. Third of all, there's a whole list of shifting conditions that can disqualify someone from becoming a Regenerator, so good luck there. Fourth of all, they usually end up hunting vampires anyway, so what vampire in his right mind would willingly make one? And then fifth of all, plot armor provides vampires with the best shot at life possible."

"Then there's the Heavenly enemies you'll come across, and you can just forget it, because even if we were tasked to hunt them, which we won't be, there's no way in hell we would win in a fight against them. Angels: insane, many-winged, many-eyed, heavily armed and heavy-armored beings that it is an absolute grace we can't see, because if we could, we'd all go mad. Fallen Angels, they tend to take the form of men, much like Archangels, but don't be fooled, because an Archangel would strangle a Fallen Angel with their own frilly training bra any day of the week. There's more, but there's no point in going into it, because Lesser Gods and stuff like that, you're probably never even going to end up seeing. You've also got Lovecraftian horrors lurking in the beyond, and I'm pretty sure they're all made by the REAL evil in this world, Daniel Web- I mean, Samael. Don't say that name out loud too much, or your furniture will start floating, and then it'll start trying to rape you."

"And that basically covers the overall enemies you'll encounter. Of course, when we have enough time, Abraham collected a literal treasure trove of books on every strange thing we could ever encounter, and we'll have to go through those, too, because there's more things out there than I can remember, or go into heavy detail about, without forgetting something important about one or two of them."

Seras nodded, turning her head to lean back against the small pillow, pondering all she had been told. The way she was, in that moment, struck a chord with Alucard. It was the posture of someone he had seen in a mirror a time or two.

"Police Girl", he told her, in a gentle voice.

She turned her head towards him again, an inquisitive look on her face.

"I want you to know that you'll never be alone again."

The look on her face was of confusion and a bit of shock.

"I know that feeling", he continued. "I've felt it many times, sometimes harder than most people ever have. There's declaring yourself to be alone, and then there's the smoke clearing from the burnt-out remains of your castle to find you being the last person standing, overlooking a sea of corpses. When the Turks took me to that dungeon oh so long ago, they took my innocence, my normality, my laughter, my hope, my love, and finally my brother. All that was left was me. And in that moment, I became numb to it all. The betrayal, the depression, the rape, even the loneliness itself meant nothing to me."

He looked her in the eye, as he said, "I've seen that look on your face before. You, yourself, have stood alone in a castle of corpses, and you tried to go numb, too. But that's not what you need, and it's not what you want, either. As long as I'm alive, you can always come to me."

That spark of humor returned, and he added, "Except, you know, like, when I'm taking a shit. I'm not gonna hold your hand between the stall walls. I've got Anderson for that."

The humorous spark died, and he continued, "But seriously, if you need me, you can always call on me... Police Girl."

Seras nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"When are you gonna stop calling me that", she asked.

"When you earn your name", he told her.

"How do I do that", Seras asked.

Alucard grinned, and opened his mouth to tell her to stop holding back. Instead, he was interrupted by a large outburst of gunfire. Alucard frowned, and turned towards the door. A second later, Anderson burst through the door to their back room, bayonets in hand, grimace on his face.

"Satanists", Anderson told them. "We've got the upper hand, 'cause I'm not stupid, but I'm not sure I want this fight near this cathedral, ya ken it?"

"I'll see what I can do", Alucard said, as he stood up from his chair. He turned to Seras, and laid a hand on her forehead. "Stay here, get some rest. We'll continue this conversation later."

Seras nodded, and Alucard turned towards the door, striding straight through the open door...

...into controlled chaos.

On some of the pews, Iscariots were set up with big boxes of loaded magazines, and groups of them were taking unloaded magazines from adjacent boxes and loading them, then putting them into the boxes with full mags. A few pews had been cleared away to make space for the wounded; so far there were three of them, with bullet holes punched through their chests and limbs... one could not make the argument that Iscariots weren't tough bastards.

Men in armor would occasionally run inside, grab as many magazines as they could carry, and take them back outside to the men who were fighting. A large group of armed men had gathered by the doors, and every time an armored runner went out, two armed men followed him, most of them firing off their rifles as soon as they exited the building.

Anderson took this time to pull him aside, and flash up underneath his priestly collar, revealing a skin-tight black suit with an octagonal weave pattern underneath his usual clothes.

"New armor", he explained. "Carbonite, supposedly very strong, very resilient, yadda yadda. Anyway, I plan on getting shot a lot, ya ken?"

Alucard grinned, and when Anderson returned it, their plan of action was decided.

Alucard, still down to a white button-up shirt and black dress pants, withdrew his huge handcannons from their holsters under his armpits. Anderson flicked his wrists, activating his tracts underneath his sleeves, dropping a glistening bayonet into each hand. With a last wicked grin to each other, they charged into the great outdoors. Anderson immediately began flinging bayonets with deadly accuracy, and Alucard immediately began firing his cannons with a ripping a tearing that would have made Doomguy proud.

However, the fire almost immediately ceased from the Satanists. The Catholics ceased their fire in turn, mostly out of confusion, and Alucard lowered his handcannons with an upturned eyebrow towards Anderson. Anderson, in turn, gave him a confused sneer.

The conglomerate of armored, automatic rifle-toting satanists had lowered their weapons almost entirely, and most were pointing their fingers at Alucard himself. From their crowd, a lightly armored man with a handgun strapped to his hip stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back, and strode calmly and confidently towards Alucard.

"Ah, the Dark One has arrived", the man said, extending on arm in a friendly gesture, "and indeed, he lives beyond death itself!"

Anderson gave Alucard a confused glance, which was quickly reciprocated by Alucard.

"And where would we find him", the man continued, "but in a church! How poetic!"

The man turned to the congregation of armed men behind him, declaring, "Our rescue mission is successful!"

"Um, do I know you", Alucard asked.

"Not yet, sir", the man responded, "but I will introduce myself to you now!"

"Well, get on with it then", Alucard told him.

"Yes, get on with it", Anderson yelled.

The entire Iscariot congregation behind him joined in in shouting, "Get on with it!"

The satanist, visibly thrown off by this audio assault, shook his head, and then extended himself in a long, deep bow.

"I am Herrin George", he told Alucard.

"I'm sure your parents never told you", Alucard said, "so I will; sorry your name is so stupid."

"No worries", the Herrin replied without missing a beat. "And I am here as an envoy from Half-Moon, a gathering dedicated to only the most powerful of vampires."

"So you're a cult?"

"We prefer the term 'gathering'."

"So you're a cult."

"Sure", the Herrin said, unwilling to argue any further. "As you are certainly aware, you yourself are a quite powerful vampire, and although we have had our... differences in the past, I can assure you that we will make loyal subjects in whatever ventures you have planned."

"Even if they involve killing other vampires", Alucard asked, with the makings of a toothy grin growing on his face.

"Why, of course", Herrin told him. "When gauging one's power, it is necessary to test the limits from time to time."

"And what if I wanted to kill you?"

"Well, then, it would be a necessary sacrifice for-"

The .454 crashed, and part of the man's skull separated from his head. The man took on a look of confused terror, and fell flat on his face. Alucard glanced at Anderson, who grinned right back.

The two of them jumped into the road, Alucard firing off his pistols, and Anderson throwing his bayonets, impaling cultists, and sometimes even sticking them to thin walls. By the time any of them could properly react, the road had been washed with a river of blood. within a span of seconds, half of their forces were gone.

"Where's your Chaos god now, Heretics", Anderson yelled out to them as they were shredded by the Iscariots.

With no options left, the satanists beat a hasty retreat. The Iscariots let them go with scattered bursts to keep them running, content with holding down their holy fort. As they began dragging the wounded inside, Alucard and Anderson shared another Predator embrace.

...

When Seras finally sat up, Alucard was sitting beside her. He wouldn't look at her, even when she gently inquired about his state. Finally, he spoke.

"Men are quite simple", he told her. "Deceptively simple. It's why complete idiots like William Shakespeare can put words on a paper and have it called art."

She didn't know what to say to that, so instead, she sat there, listening to him.

"You insist that you do not understand me, but it is well within your reach to do so. You've been in my shoes more times than you're willing to admit... powerless, hopeless... fearful."

"But you've been alive for so long", she told him. "Surely you're better than me at all of this?"

He stared straight ahead, almost unmoving.

"We try to better ourselves in different ways", he told her. "Some seek themselves for betterment, others seek God. I sought Anna Valarious. She was everything I had lost; beautiful, innocent, pure. If I could make her mine, I believed I could fix my flaws with her strengths. But it was more than that; I loved her for who she was, not what she was. And who she was, was far better than I ever would be."

"I'm sorry", Seras said.

"Why", he asked.

"I just", she began, then stopped. "Can I share a secret with you?"

"Keep your secrets", he answered.

"No, please, I have to share."

"Why", he asked again.

"I just", she began, then she stopped herself, biting her lip. "I was orphaned growing up. I was in and out of foster homes. When I was small, there was this boy... I fell in love with him. You know, like, how children fall in love. Someone came to adopt him one day, and I knew he was bad. The boy promised to write me every day, and when he left with that man, I never received a single letter. I knew he was bad, but I didn't say anything. And I didn't do anything. Because I was so scared."

She finished, dropping her head to stare at the covers. A single tear escaped her eye at the memory of the boy's face. She lifted her head back up to continue.

"I just had to get that off my-"

He was gone.

"Master?"

She glanced around the room, but he was nowhere to be seen. The door to the room was open, and outside the hallway seemed to stretch forever.

Funny, she thought. I don't remember this door opening up to a hallway.

"Why did you tell me your secrets", the voice of her master, but in a whisper.

That voice seemed to have come from everywhere. She glanced around the room, just to be sure that Alucard wasn't in it. When she was sure, a puzzled expression crossed her face.

"Master? Where are you?"

"Who do you think I am", the whispering continued.

"Oh, God", Seras said with an exasperated sigh. "I try to share a little piece of myself with you, and you just have to go and play a prank on me?"

"Do not dress the dead", the whisper continued, "in the clothes of the living."

Seras was beginning to get angry.

She sat up from the bed, saying, "Alright, when I find you, I'm gonna sock you in the face."

"The dead are still where they lay", the whisper continued, "no matter who wears their clothes."

"I'M GOING TO PUNCH YOU, YOU WRINKLY OLD FUCK! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

She looked down the hall, and Alucard stood at the very edge of the light. He was clothed in all of his clothing, up to his hat and glasses. He turned, and walked into the dark. Seras quickly walked after him. At the edge of the light, she began to feel cold chills throughout her body.

She almost stopped, but the whisper continued, "Who am I?"

"You're dead meat", Seras said, a scowl crossing her face.

She crossed over into the dark, and as soon as she did, she could see a light, a long ways off. She walked towards it, but it never seemed to get closer. She chanced a glance back, and when she did, the light was right behind her. She could see now that it was an overhead lamp, lighting a small, sterile metal table, with a body bag on top of it.

She froze, unsure of what to do. She considered going back, but she was usure that if she turned around, she would even find a way back. She thought about sinking to the ground.

"Leave the dead where they lie", the whisper said.

This time, she could hear it clearly coming from the body bag.

She hesitantly stepped forward, until she finally stood over the black bag. It didn't move; whatever occupied it was indeed dead. Hesitantly, she reached up towards the zipper, and quickly jerked it down.

Inside the bag was her father, white flakes still dotting the bullet hole that leaked black blood from his head. His head turned towards her.

"Hello, darling."

...

Seras awoke with a shrill scream.

"AH", a thick Scottish accent screamed back. "Jesus Christ girly! Don't scare me like that!"

She felt all around herself, pinching in various areas to make sure she was, indeed, awake. As she checked herself all over, an elderly nun stormed by.

Without even sparing a glance inside, the woman angrily yelled, "Lord's fuckin' name!"

Anderson rolled his eyes, crossing himself while muttering a prayer.

Seras turned her gaze back towards the insane priest, thankful to find that her eyes were peering upon his fully clothed body once more. She still had an image of him shirtless seared into her mind, and to be honest, it was getting her a little hot and bothered every time she thought about it... which was instantly interrupted by images of him impaling her with around a dozen bayonets.

She shuddered, and decided to remain content with his clothed figure.

"You saved me", she said, "why?"

"Mm", Anderson began, scratching his chin in thought. "Monkey?"

"What?"

"Monkey, yeah, that's it."

"So, let me get this straight", Seras said with a scowl. "Within the span of a few months, you go from turning me into a bayonet pin cushion to saving my life, and your logic behind this complete about-face is... and I quote, 'Mm, monkey'?"

"Essentially, yes", Anderson told her with a shrug. "Ya see, you atheists believe that we all came from monkeys. And while there are plenty of similarities between us and monkeys, we are, inherently, two different creatures. For instance, we think on a far broader scale than monkeys ever could. An example being Harambe, the gentle giant himself, defending a small boy from a ravenous group of zoo-goers. He did what he did because he had a soft spot for humans. But if he were to hate humans, with the boy being an exception, he would not have saved the boy's friend if he had been in a similar situation. That being said, I have endeavored to save you, little girl, simply because you are the friend of my friend, who belongs to a people group which I happen to hate. Therefore, I am not a monkey."

At first, Seras attempted to wrap her head around that logic, but when her brain hurt from thinking about it too hard, she simply nodded.

"And me not being a monkey lends simple benefits which a monkey could not reap", he told her. "For instance, monkeys are known to be smart, but not smart enough to produce truly profound leaps in logic. They can predict patterns, but thoughts? Perish it! Which is what brings me to your next question, that being; why are me and Big Red friends to begin with?"

She had to admit, he had her there. She resigned to simply nodding her head. A wicked grin grew across his face.

"Our story begins a mere fortnight after our initial meeting. I was playing Holy Hoosiers on my XBox, when I got a request for a 1v1 in Halo Slayer. I of course accepted, and three hours later, we were still neck and neck. Naturally, I told that faggot to 1v1 me IRL, and he set up a time and place; tomorrow, high noon, on a bridge overlooking a small Romanian town."

"I took a Vatican jet all the way there, watched many an in-flight movie, and parachuted out over the designated location. And who should be waiting for me, in the middle of the bridge, shrouded in mist, standing proudly with sword in hand, but Alucard. Rules were set, that being no use of powers, magic, or surprise weaponry, whilst maintaining the code of Chivalry, and the battle began."

"Two and a half days and two nights later, we were still fightin', until a man calling himself The Tracker introduced himself, and began dancing. An argument ensued over who The Tracker could possibly be working for, which led to a near hour-long discussion concerning the politics of the Illuminati, and how they've lost the spark that made them cool and original, and are therefore no longer 'hip'."

"Well, The Tracker didn't like that conclusion, so he sent a ghoul army after us, circling us on both sides of the bridge. We beat a hasty retreat over the side of the bridge, and landed in a small Romanian village which had apparently been entertained by us for almost three days. They gave us free beer, baths, and back massages, and then sent us on our way."

"Well, turns out, me and Alucard came to something of an understanding, that which we both respect and admire each other enough to wish to kill one another, which led to a montage of us at a carnival, pointing various weapons at each other whilst enjoying the rides."

"Wait, wait, wait", Seras said, waving a hand around. "First of all, a carnival?"

"Aye", Anderson acknowledged. "T'was very convenient."

"S-second of all", Seras continued, "run that 'understanding' by me again?"

"We both have similar interests", he explained, "we both have similar hatreds, we both have a similar respect of history and its role on modern society, and we both want to murder the shite out of each other. It's a win-win fer everyone."

"So", Seras asked, holding up a hand, "your entire relationship to Alucard revolves around you two wanting to kill each other?!"

"Well", Anderson interjected, "more like me wanting ta kill him. I'm not so sure that he's as committed to the killing part as I am."

"So", Seras revised, "you want to kill him, and he just wants to endlessly fight you for his own amusement?"

"Essentially, yes."

"WHY?!"

Anderson stared at her for a moment, blinking sporadically. He straightened up, scratching his chin, and looking off into the distance. Then he began scratching the back of his head.

"Because it's... fun?"

"So you're telling me that you want to kill my Master because it's fun to do so?"

"Look, girly", Anderson shouted, jamming a finger in her face, "you try growing up in a Catholic orphanage, and then tell me all of the fun you've had doing so, aye?!"

"I", Seras began, then paused. "I'm sorry. That must have been difficult."

"Nah", Anderson dismissed, waving a hand. "Actually, I should be apologizing. I know you grew up in and out of orphanages, I have no right to bring my unequal experience on the matter to bear."

"Wait", Seras interrupted, snapping her head towards him, "how do you know about-"

"Shh, girly", Anderson said, pushing his whole hand into her face. He gently tapped her shoulder, saying, "There, there."

"Um", Seras stuttered, brushing his weak shoulder pats off, "how did you know about me being orphaned?"

"Alucard told me", he said with a shrug. "Says he can tell."

"He can... tell?"

Anderson fixed her with an odd look.

"It's pretty easy to tell when someone's had their childhood stolen from them", he told her. He glanced away, as if trying to find a point in the distance, remarking, "Especially if the same could be said for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Anderson glanced back down at her.

"When he was a wee lad, he was taken from his home, into a whole other country. Then, for ten years, he was abused, tortured, and raped. Do ya think somewhere in that time, he got to run around and play? Or that afterwards, he just came home and got to be happy? You don't walk away from something like that, girly."

Unless, she thought, you live for five hundred years.

"Stop it", Anderson snapped, "I know that thought and it's a bad one!"

"Wh-"

"He'S lIvEd a LOnG lIFe, tHaT'S dIFFerEnt! Take that thought and shove it!"

"I didn't-"

"Sure, ya did. I used to have a short life span meself; I'm not an idiot."

"Oh... I-"

"Don't apologize, I get it. And when ya live a long time, you'll get it, too. Some scars don't heal", Anderson said, brushing a hand over his damaged cheek. "Sometimes they're too deep, and sometimes you just can't rest long enough. For Alucard, both of these reasons ring true. Did he ever tell you that he was king to a whole nation? Or that his kingship began as soon as he left that dungeon, at no more than the age of eighteen?"

That was certainly news to her. She couldn't see him ruling his way out of a paper bag, not with the way he acted. Except, maybe, when he got those far-off looks...

Suddenly, a few things began clicking in her mind.

"Is he-"

"Just now beginning to branch out emotionally, starting with sarcasm? If 'just now' can include the past ninety years or so, then yes. Also, a good thirty to fifty of those years were spent in a dungeon. My math sucks, so I'm not sure."

"...Oh."

"Don't apologize, he wouldn't accept it anyway. You're a child, you know nothing of the man, and he's just now starting to figure you out, to boot. I just thought you might want to know."

He reached up, and brought a hand down on her shoulder. She thought, maybe, he had meant it as a light, reassuring tap, but after he lifted his hand, she checked to make sure none of her joints had dislocated all the same.

"Anyway, after that, Tracker came back with a Juggernaut Werewolf, so we murdered the shite out of it. Then we played poker, and then we went home. The end."

"And so, you two are friends because you want to beat each other up indefinitely."

"Aye", Anderson told her with a stern nod. "But there's more to it than that. Ya may not think it, but men are inclined to deep, philosophical thought. We happen to have a similar philosophy, one that's rare to find in people who are... shall we say, our age?"

"I... think I understand."

"No, you don't. And that's ok. Everything's different when it finally sets in that you're going to live forever, that the face you see in the mirror is the same one you're going to wake up to every single day from now until an uncertain demise in the near, or perhaps rather far future. In many ways, it's like waking up and realizing that you've taken up residence in Heck, Hell's slightly retarded cousin, and now you're stuck in a contract that even the greasiest lawyer on earth can't get you out of."

"Well, that sure makes my future look bloody bright."

"I'm not going ta sugar coat it. Ya deserve ta know that it gets consistently worse the longer yer around."

"Why?"

Anderson stroked the stubble that was beginning to build up on his face, and replied, "Knowing that right off the bat makes it harder for you to make the same mistakes that most of the rest of your kind do... like yer blood sugar daddy did."

"Blood sugar daddy? What in hell's ringin' bells is that supposed to mean?"

Anderson grinned, then turned around and walked out of the room. Out in the hallway, he came within inches of bumping into Alucard, who was coming back to the room.

"Look, man", Alucard told Anderson, "I promised you a favor, and you've got it. Name it now, or I'll leave with all the donation money."

"Bloody bag snatchers", Anderson growled, "Ya ain't gotta threaten me, I was actually just lookin' for ya. I've got a job, and it ain't that bad. Those arseholes from earlier, Half-Moon? I've been lookin' into 'em fer a while, now. About a week ago, the Vatican came down hard and told me to make a full stop on such actions. Now, that's got me suspicious, so I want to know what ties they've got to the Vatican, and then I want 'em all dead, just ta teach those tweakers in Rome a bloody lesson."

"Done."

"Wait... done? Just like that?"

"I've got history with them. You'll never hear from them again after I'm done with them."

"Not hide, nor hair."

"Cross my ass and skullfuck me."

"Bet. One other thing; if ya hear or see anything about a guy called 'The Librarian', let me know."

"Why?"

"He stole a few books from the Vatican. Last he was seen, he was talkin' to that guy whomst ya turned ta soup."

"Sure, why not?"

"Excellent. You nutbags can rest here for another two days, but then I'm kickin' the lot of ya out."

"That's more than enough... and more than generous. Thank you."

"Lick me shaft and deepthroat me bag, ya crack whore."

"Will do, buddy."

With that, the two men parted ways, and Seras began feeling tired once more. She laid her head down on the pillow, wondering how such an unlikely pair came to be such good friends. Sleep took her quickly.

A/N: I hate doing Author's Notes, but I've gotta put this one here; I have gotten so much support recently, and I am completely blown away. Thank you all so much!

...but for the love of all things holy, PLEASE give me some feedback, y'all! I don't know what I'm doing right or wrong if y'all don't tell me!