[Hellsing][FanFic] My So-Called Afterlife

[Dot Warner]

My So-Called Afterlife
a shameless self-insertion by Dot
---
I woke up with a pounding headache and the taste of cotton in my
mouth.

'So this is what a hangover is like,' I thought, stretching and
pulling the blankets closer to my body. 'Bleagh. Big freaking deal.'

That's about when I noticed I was buck naked. I think. Things got a
little chaotic at the time, because Sir Integra and Seras woke up
right then, too.

"AIEEE!" (That was Seras, screaming bloody murder about her lack of
clothing.)

"Gah! Don't do that!" (That was me, whose headache just got fifty
times worse thanks to said screaming.)

"Bloody hell--ALUCARD!" (That was Integra, similarly nude,
alternating between horrified and furious.)

"This can't be happening--this must be a nightmare--" (That was
Seras, in severe denial. I envied her ability to do that.)

"Get away from me, you trollop! ALUCARD! Get your mangy ass here,
NOW!" (That was Sir Integra, outraged about my presence even though I
was pretty sure that wasn't my fault.)

"Look, I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding--ow! Ow! Stop that!
Hey!" (That was me, trying to dodge the pillows Sir Integra was
throwing at me.)

"Really, Master. Don't act as if you've never seen a naked woman
before."

That was Sir Alucard, smirking in the doorway at our various states
of undress. Despite managing to wrap a bed sheet around myself, I
still felt incredibly exposed under his leer.

Sir Integra, on the other hand, somehow looked completely dignified
even though she was wearing absolutely nothing. "You'd better have a
good explanation for this, Alucard."

"It's simple, really. The punch contained a substance that renders
mortals nearly unconscious and very, very suggestible." Alucard
grinned again. "Although I have to say you hardly needed any
prompting, Master. Perhaps you should abandon your silly hang-ups
about sex."

Sir Integra flared and was about to snap at Alucard when she noticed
me trying to sneak out of the room. She narrowed her eyes. "And what
about her?" Her voice was ice.

Sir Alucard continued grinning, although for a moment I swear his
countenance wavered a bit. "What? It's not like I would let such a
delicious virgin pass me by."

My mind was rather slow on the uptake, but not so slow as to miss
what was being implied. Fearing the worse, I reached up to touch my
neck.

And screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

Have I mentioned that I really, really shouldn't have gone to that
party yet?

^ v ^

After my extremely embarrassing induction into the glorious ranks of
Hellsing (henceforth to be kept secret upon pain of...I dunno,
something worse than a fate worse than death, I guess), I was given a
quick rundown of how things were run by Walter.

At the top was, depending on who you asked, either England or the
Protestant Church. I didn't really care for either, and for the most
part those were distant ideals that had little to do with the daily
workings of the organization. Walter seemed to insinuate that Sir
Integra answered directly to the Queen, but once again, that wasn't
really my business. Plus, I never saw Sir Integra (or any of the
mortal staff members, for that matter) attend any sort of services or
read the Bible or even pray.

My ultimate authority, as far as I was concerned, was Sir Integra.
As the head of the...um...Royal Protestant Knights...something
something...Organization with a Really Long Freaking Name, and the
last in a long line of monster hunters, she also had the dubious
distinction of having a vampire and his brood as servants. I obeyed
her without question not because of this, but because I respected her
incredible inner strength and her ability to stand firm in a world
filled with darkness.

Sir Alucard, my sire, was a slightly different story. Unlike Seras,
I refused to call him "Master", on the basis that my turning was very
much nonconsensual. He tolerated it as long as I did what I'm told
and I didn't get too fresh with him. I had a tendency to get a little
smart mouthed when I'm stressed, and more often than not I spoke
before I think. I learned the hard way that sometimes it's just
better to shut the hell up and grumble later.

Walter was...well, Walter. He seemed to be pretty content with
staying behind the scenes, but I valued his guidance as I learned the
ropes. Walter taught me how to shoot with both precision and
accuracy, how to use anything as a weapon, and how to minimize
injuries to myself in a fight. Walter also customized all of our
guns, and after using one of his "babies" I almost never wanted to
even touch another weapon.

Seras Victoria, like myself, had been a rather ordinary girl (or, as
Alucard liked to call her, "police girl") until Alucard crossed her
life. Unlike myself, she had become a vampire more or less of her own
volition. She may have been a human shield at the time, but Alucard
was considerate enough to ask her if she was willing to come with him.
She was just starting to realize that she had gotten quite a bit more
than she had bargained for, but she tried to put on her best face no
matter how grim the situation. Her whole angst about losing her
humanity annoyed me sometimes, though, so I tended to avoid her when
we weren't on missions.

^ v ^

And then, there was me, the new "kid". Adjusting to being undead
was, pun very much intended, hell. Now, I didn't mind the nocturnal
thing or the blood thing; I was always a bit of a night owl to begin
with and enjoyed a good rare steak now and then. No, what I hated was
the constant pain.

Something they don't tell you about a vampire's heightened senses is
that the sense of touch is no exception. And when you take a geeky
anime fangirl and put her through boot camp, the results aren't
pretty. The human mind tunes out after a certain level of pain to
keep its host from going insane, and even releases some nice
endorphins to help make things tolerable, but the vampire has no such
fail safes. And, perhaps as revenge for not calling him Master,
Alucard made it a point to design my training so that I would always
be in agony.

My typical day looked something like this...

DAWN: Voice in my head tells me to get up or get a stake in the
chest. Eat quick breakfast of medicinal blood, raw eggs, and toast.
Jog for 5 miles.

MORNING: Endurance training. Pack own weight in live ammunition and
supplies, march. Weapons training. Assemblage, maintenance, and
firing. Learn how to deal with recoil. Learn how to pop dislocated
shoulder back into place.

NOON: Medicinal blood, roast beef sandwich. Single combat training.
Group tactics. Urban warfare.

DUSK: Reading break. History, the occult, military texts, and the
occasional manga. Dinner of steak (rare) or chicken soup.

NIGHT: Stealth training. Sniper training. Sleep doesn't happen
until midnight or later, sometimes not at all.

The worst part, though, was definitely the missions, because things
could go batshit at any time, even for supposedly "routine" stuff.
And since Seras and I were vampires, we got to take point, meaning
more that often than not we ended up being cannon fodder.

Being shot hurt like a motherfucker. That was why, in addition to my
regular weapons training, I asked Walter to teach me the tricks of the
trade. If I was going to point a gun at somebody, I wanted to make
sure that they were dead after the first shot, quickly and painlessly.
They might have been my enemies, but we were just pawns in someone
else's stupid games, and I saw no point in prolonging their suffering.

^ v ^

Once, and only once, did I attack a human. She was a reporter for
some tabloid paper that had somehow found a group of freaks that were
making snuff videos. The mole was probably responsible for that, but
I didn't care about him, since the law could deal with traitors just
fine.

As Sir Integra herself said, there are some places where the law
cannot reach, and that's where Hellsing comes in.

Sir Alucard invited me to drink, but he didn't need to. I bit down
on that scum of a woman right on her breast where it would hurt the
most, while Sir Alucard squeezed her throat shut so she wouldn't ruin
the atmosphere with her screams.

"So, how does it feel, to be part of the show you just watched five
minutes ago?" I asked her as I licked the blood from my lips. She, of
course, couldn't answer, but I could feel her terror. "How does it
feel to have Sir Integra watch us devour you and know that she will
not help you, even if she could?"

And I think that was why I did it--why I drank from her, that is.
She wasn't there to investigate the truth; she was there to watch a
helpless victim be destroyed because she got off on it. I wanted to
turn the tables on her for a few moments before she went to hell.

So I did.

And it was wonderful.

For about five minutes. Then I discovered, ironically, that I was
allergic to non type-O blood.

Sir Integra gave me the day off to worship the porcelain goddess.

^ v ^

I didn't have the "pleasure" of meeting Father Anderson the first
time he crossed paths with Hellsing; instead, Seras gave a very
amusing and dramatic blow-by-blow reenactment, complete with sound
effects.

"...and then Master showed up looking all evil and really cool, like
this," Seras posed and tried to leer, but that just resulted in both
of us laughing for a good minute.

"I take it this Anderson fellow skipped town after that?" I asked
after I finally was able to talk without breaking into another round
of titters.

Seras nodded enthusiastically. "He ran off promising to kill us next
time." She became more serious as her hand drifted to her neck, where
one of Alexander's blessed swords had pierced her, and she shuddered.
"I sure hope there isn't a next time."

"From your description of this dude, I'm pretty sure we haven't seen
the last of him." At the time, I was actually looking forward to a
Hellsing/Iscariot rematch because had this silly notion of somehow
disillusioning the fanatical paladin with my knowledge of the darker
side of his glorious religion.

I had no idea.

I won't bore you with all the details about the premise or the
denouement and skip straight to the exiting part, which of course
consists of lots of blood, gore, and gratuitous violence.

^ v ^

Seras was hyperventilating with panic as we stood back to back in the
narrow train car, and to my irritation her fear was rather infectious.
I was about to snap at her to stop doing that when everything went
WRONG.

(Hey, if Lovecraft could get away with describing meeting an Elder
God as "unspeakable eldritch horror", then I could get a little slack
for not being able to come up with a coherent term for how it felt to
be stuck in a magical anti-undead barrier.)

"Hello, hello," Fahter Anderson's voice echoed from everywhere at
once, and Seras whimpered. "So it seems the freak show is a bit
bigger this time."

And then he was right in front of me, leering at me between those
sharp, sharp knives.

"All the more for me to kill."

All that training was more helpful than I thought, because I somehow
managed to dodge the most deadly strike, one aimed straight towards my
heart. Father Anderson, however, was not so stupid as to overextend
himself, and pressed his assault, the next few which were
significantly more successful.

By the way, being sliced by blades immersed with holy water hurt even
worse than being shot. A lot more. A hell of a lot more, even. But
back to the story.

He chased me all the way through the train, taunting me all the way.
By this point, I had no doubt in my mind that he could destroy me in
an instant, but was just toying with me because he could. Meanwhile,
Seras was probably curled up crying in a corner somewhere like the
useless eye candy she tended to be in situations like this.

We reached the caboose. I looked outside at the scenery zipping by
and contemplated throwing myself out a window, but before I could make
up my mind, Father Anderson was upon me.

"What will you do now, vampire?" He asked, spearing me in my
shoulders to the seat behind me. I bit my lip to keep from screaming,
my sharp fangs splitting them from the force I imparted. He drew
another pair of knives from within his trench coat and traced one
along my chin. "Any last words before I send you to hell?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," I ground out as calmly as I could. "Who
the fuck died and made you God?"

Father Anderson, probably having heard far worse from other vampires,
was unfazed. "Is that all you have?"

This time, I smirked. He asked for it. I listed every infraction of
the Catholic Church, from the Crusades to the most recent scandals.
Some he countered easily with his twisted logic, others left him
speechless, and a few even riled him up. Of course, that only meant
more pain for me, but at this point, I was too pissed off to care.

"--and another thing! Do you think I enjoy killing people even if
they're hardly innocent bystanders or being a creature of darkness?" I
was practically shouting at the top of my lungs now. "Do you think I
like the idea that I'm probably going to hell all because I was a
stupid fangirl that attended a stupid Halloween party--"

My blood ran cold as something in my mind clicked, and I remembered.

I remembered.

"You were there," I croaked, grabbing the blades and pulling them out
one by one. "Not some fanboy dressed as you."

This rattled Father Anderson more than anything else. "Liar!" He
shouted, swinging at me wildly.

"You were there," I repeated, dodging him easily now that he wasn't
focused on taking me apart limb by limb. "I was drunk off my ass
because some jerk off spiked the punch and I was throwing up in the
toilet when Sir Alucard took me to your room and--"

"LIAR!" Father Anderson lunged at me again, but stopped almost in
midair as his blades exploded into a million tiny shards.

Sir Alucard emerged from the shadows, his Jackal pointing straight at
Anderson's head. "Come, come, Anderson, there's no shame in admiring
Hellsing's newest Captain. She not nearly as curvaceous as the police
girl, but she's cute in her own way."

Father Anderson let loose a string of obscenities and curses as he
disappeared.

^ v ^

Afterwards, I locked myself in my room and was about to wallow in
some well-deserved self pity when Sir Alucard appeared in his usual
irritating fashion.

"So you've finally recalled the moment of your rebirth." He smiled.
"Congratulations."

He was baiting me. "You," I spat, keeping my voice cold, "might have
preserved my virginity in the technical sense, so that you could make
a pet out of me, but as far as I'm concerned, you raped me." I stood
up and glared at him, even though he easily towered over me. "Raped.
Me. Because you thought it would be funny to make Anderson sweat over
not only having carnal thoughts for a girl, but a heretical undead
vampire girl on top of that."

"Correct, Captain." He put a gun into my hands. "So now what? Take
your revenge for your life being ruined? Kill yourself and hope that
the same God who has put you into this hell will somehow take you out
of it?"

He wanted me to hate him, and I wasn't about to give him that
satisfaction. "I'm going to cry for a few hours and mangle a few
pillows while I'm at it. Then I'm going to get on with my life.
Unlife. Whatever." I tried to give the gun back, and when he refused
to take it, I threw it across the room. "Now, sir, unless you want to
stand here and listen to me scream my lungs out, I suggest you leave
the room and not bother me until I'm done."

I stomped over to the bed, threw myself down over it, and began
making good on my promise. I wept until blood came out of my eyes--or
they always did and I didn't notice--and tore through just about every
piece of furniture in that room. Sir Alucard didn't stick around for
the show, because he didn't care for such theatrics, and went off to
annoy the other members of Hellsing.

After I freshened up as much as possible, I headed downstairs to
report for debriefing. To my surprise, Walter was in the mess hall
waiting for me.

He bowed deeply in the way that he always did. "Sir Integra wishes
to dine with you, Captain. Follow me."

^ v ^

I found Sir Integra seated at the head of an elegant wooden table, a
simple yet elegant meal before her. "Sit," she said, indicating my
seat with but the slightest nod of her head.

I sat, feeling very self conscious about my messy, informal clothes.
Walter poured me a glass of what Sir Integra was having and placed it
in front of me.

"Sorry, Sir Integra, but I don't drink. I never liked the taste of
alcohol, and given what happened the last time I had any..." I trailed
off, feeling guilty about having said too much as usual. "Uh, that
night at the party, we didn't..."

Perhaps the light was playing a trick on my eyes, but for a moment
Sir Integra looked like she was blushing. "No. That was also part of
Alucard's," she paused slightly, as if searching for the right word,
"prank."

"Some prank," I muttered.

She sighed lightly. "Walter has been investigating the circumstances
of that...incident. So far, he has had few leads, and unfortunately
none of them are very promising."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean this wasn't just some stupid junior
grade prank?"

"If only life were that simple." Sir Integra nibbled at a piece of
her steak. "Neither Hellsing nor Iscariot would have been present if
it really were merely a party gone horribly and tragically wrong,
would it?"

"I guess not."

She stopped eating for a moment and peered at me through her glasses.
"You seem to be pretty calm about all of this."

I shrugged. "What happened, happened. It pissed me off to find out
the details, but I'm done crying." For now, anyway, I added mentally.

"I see." Again, it might have been my imagination, but there seemed
to be a tone of...approval, almost, in Sir Integra's voice. But she
was already back to eating her meal.

Meanwhile, my glass of wine had been exchanged for one of blood.
"Courtesy of Sir Integra," Walter explained as he set it down with a
rather amused expression. "Cheers."

It took a while for me to understand what he said. "You mean..."

"I had some drawn today after I heard what happened," Sir Integra
answered my unspoken question. "I figured you could use a little
virgin blood."

"Oh."

And then Sir Integra smirked. "Now will you drink it like a good
vampire, or will I have to make you lick my finger?"

According to Walter, I blushed all the way to the roots of my hair.

^ v ^

And thus was the beginning of my seriously weird relationship with
Father Anderson. I really didn't know what to make of the man. On
one hand, he was more right wing than Rush Limbaugh, Newt Gingrich,
and the Spanish Inquisition put together. On the other, every time we
met after that first encounter, he didn't seem to be too enthusiastic
about destroying me in the name of God or whatever. He just liked to
cut me. A lot.

Sir Alucard, of course, enjoyed all of this immensely. He teased me
nonstop about having a "Vatican dog boyfriend", and made all sorts of
lurid suggestions on the sadomasochist undertones of Father Anderson's
knifing skills. He almost made a joke about whether Sir Integra would
approve of cross-denominational fraternization, but he made the
mistake of doing it her presence. One good GLARE from her shut him up
instantly.

(And boy, was that satisfying, feeling Sir Alucard's obligation to
Sir Integra through the telepathic bond I shared with him. Of course,
he got his revenge for that, too, by pouring ice cold holy water down
the back of my shirt, but that's a story for another day.)

Since we were essentially fighting the same enemy, Father Anderson
and I ran into each other quite a bit. The only reprieve I got was
the time the Hellsing mansion was stormed by the Valentine brothers,
and then it was right back to your regularly scheduled freak show.

And then Millenium happened.

You know those conspiracy theories about how the Nazis were
experimenting with dark evil things and then escaped to South America
to continue plotting the resurrection of the Third Reich?

They're all true.

^ v ^

In true evil villain fashion, they made themselves known during a
Round Table meeting and announced their plans to invade England.
Their messenger was some sort of gender indeterminate feline creature
who called itself Schr inger.

Big, big mistake on their part.

'Say, Sir Alucard,' I sent mentally as the members of the Round Table
exchanged banter with the head of Millenium, 'how much do you know
about quantum mechanics?'

'I've heard of it, but the intellectual wankings of those eggheads
never interested me much. Is it relevant?'

'Is it ever!' I then gave him an abbreviated, layman's version of the
infamous thought experiment of the cat in the box.

The conversation at the Table was interrupted by Sir Alucard's insane
laughter.

"How very amusing!" Sir Alucard exclaimed between chortles. "A pussy
that is both completely dead and completely alive, depending on how
you look at the situation!"

Schr inger looked bored, at first, when Sir Alucard extended his
dark powers. Then, as it realized what Sir Alucard had done, fear
registered on its face for the first time.

"Ohoho! The cat, for once, is in the bag, is it not?" Sir Alucard
drew his gun and pressed it to Schr inger's head. "So what will you
do now, little pussy? Will you go crying to your master and betray him
for me, or shall I send you to him myself?"

The fat German Major on the liquid crystal screen mirrored Alucard's
expression. "Coming for me already, Alucard? You are so impatient!
And don't snivel like that, Warrant Officer Schr inger. You are
disgracing the memory of our F rer."

"But, Major," Schr inger whimpered, "he's scaring me."

"Alucard." Sir Integra, on the other hand, remained her usual
impassive self. "Fire."

^ v ^

So Sir Integra sent Sir Alucard, Seras, and a bunch of mercenaries to
South America to track down the evil laughing zombie Nazis, while I
stayed behind to guard the "roost" with Walter because I opened my big
mouth and asked what happened if Millenium had operatives in Great
Britain already and was just waiting for all the nasty vampires to
clear out.

I had resigned myself to the bland monotony of the usual routine when
Sir Integra got a very interesting phone call. Turns out my instincts
had been correct, and not in a good way: in addition to Millenium
having a presence in Britain, one of the agents was a priest.

A Catholic priest.

"Something tells me that a certain paladin will show up, too," I
muttered as I packed my guns.

Walter almost smiles. "You must be psychic, Captain."

^ v ^

If I were really psychic, or at least a bit smarter, I should have
realized that if the other side had a Catholic in their ranks, they'd
not only have plenty of ammunition suited to make my life pain, they'd
have things to deal with a paladin, too. But I'd gotten careless from
mowing down all the red shirt freaks and acquired a dangerous sense of
immortality. And, honestly, I think part of me did have a bit of a
death wish.

I ran into Anderson right on schedule just as I was done clearing out
another hallway full of freaks, wondering to myself where Millenium
got its seemingly innumerable recruits.

"We have to stop meeting like this," I remarked as we pointed our
respective weapons at each other.

He swiped at me half-heartedly, because more freaks showed up to
crash our touching (or something) reunion. "Be very glad that you are
not the enemy this time, vampire."

"Overjoyed, Father Anderson." And the only reason I'm not going to
shoot you in the back is it would be a stupid waste of ammunition, I
thought to myself.

It was almost a scene out of one of those old caper films. We fought
the freaks with bullets and each other with words. We got in each
other's way as often as we saved each other's rear ends. And we burst
through the final set of doors, together, to confront the traitorous
priest in his lair.

Yeah, it was immensely stupid of us. But it looked really cool.
Until we noticed the magic.

I almost tumbled to the floor as I found myself in a barrier that
would probably even give Sir Alucard the willies, but a managed to
grab onto the frame of the door and sink my fingers into the wood.
Father Anderson was not so lucky - the most recent wounds he received
hadn't quite closed up yet, and clearly something was interfering with
his regenerative abilities.

"What dark arts have you been playing with, traitor," he growled,
struggling to get up off the floor.

The priest--Jones, I believe, but I was never good at names--walked
up to Father Anderson and kicked him viciously, sending him to the
floor again. "Funny you'd say that, Iscariot dog." He turned his eyes
on me, and pulled out a wicked looking gun. "And what do we have
here? If it isn't one of Hellsing's infamous undead squad!"

Fortunately, he was close enough for me to punch the gun away from
him before he could fire. Unfortunately, the gun was made from pure
silver, and probably doused with holy water for good measure. "If I
could move, I would rip you in half," I growled, trying to ignore the
pain from my burning hand.

"But you can't, can you? You can barely even stand!" Jones tried to
kick my legs out from under me, but I executed a clumsy overhead flip,
landed behind him, and fired at his head.

The space around him contoured, and suddenly I found myself at the
business end of my own bullet.

Jones stood over me and stomped his shoe into the hole in my stomach.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm doing you a favor." He brought out
another gun. "After all, if you destroy Millenium, then you will have
outlived your usefulness."

"You underestimate the human capacity for evil," I replied, grabbing
his leg and throwing him as hard as I could. I rolled to my feet
again, using a nearby desk for support.

Meanwhile, Father Anderson, being no wimp himself, has managed to get
up as well, and drawn his blades. "The heart is more deceitful than
all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?"

"Jeremiah 17:9," I blurted out, surprised that I still remembered the
verse, and recognized it despite the different wording.

Before either of us could get into a possibly enlightening discussion
on scripture, Jones fired at both of us simultaneously, causing us to
scramble for our lives.

'Where is he getting his guns from?' I thought to myself as another
bullet tore into my body. 'Dammit. And I liked this shirt, too.'

We managed to do pretty well considering the significant handicaps.
We even managed to injure Jones a few times because his strange
space-twisting trick only works when he is concentrating on it, and
it's a bit hard to focus with two psychotic maniacs trying to kill you
at the same time.

Then Jones blew off one of Father Anderson's kneecaps.

At this point, my feelings for Father Anderson were still rather
mixed, but I was quite certain that I didn't want his death on my
hands. Saving him would not only be major bonus points for Hellsing,
but it was my chance to be heroic.

My mind churned as my eyes darted around the room and spotted the gun
I had punched out of Jones' hands before. Now, how in the world was I
going to get a shot off without him invoking that stupid warping trick
again?

Insert one mental light bulb here.

"Hey! Jackass!" I shouted, catching Jones' attention. I pointed the
gun at him, ignoring the fact that it was starting to eat into my
hands.

Well, here went nothing.

We fired at each other simultaneously. I ticked off the moments in
my head, and then fired again, and again, putting just enough delay in
my shots and hoping that my idea--that the stream of bullets would
cause him to accidentally reverse the path of a previously reversed
round--would work.

I think it did, because his head exploded in a messy red spray, but I
couldn't quite tell because something impacted into my chest at about
the same time, taking out a good chunk of the left side of my body. I
only vaguely remember pulling Father Anderson out of the room with my
good arm and falling to the ground, my effort spent.

"Draculina," he began, almost looking shocked that I had not left him
there to bleed to death, and amended himself. "Captain."

"You should be happy, Father. In a little while, I'll be in a lake
of fire and brimstone weeping and gnashing my teeth, or something." I
couldn't hold back a whimper of agony. It hurt. It hurt so damn
fucking much. "I'm sure you'd rather send me there myself, but I'm
definitely going, and not the fast, painless way."

He didn't answer me, so I kept talking.

"I know it wouldn't do me any good, but...could you...give me last
rites?" My eyes were losing focus, so I couldn't see which way he
reacted. "I was born a Catholic and even had Communion a few times,
so I sort of qualify. I mean, other than being a creature of darkness
and all." I forced a smile. "Just do it in the vernacular or
something, so it doesn't have any real soul-saving power."

He was mumbling something to himself, but I couldn't make anything
out. Then he took a deep breath and hovered over me. He drew the
sign of the cross with his thumb. "In the name of the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Spirit."

I closed my eyes and waited. "Thank you, Father Anderson."

"Amen."

^ v ^

(Dream Sequence)

"AMEN!" Another body fell to the ground in a million quivering
pieces.

He shook his head and reloaded his gun. "Aren't you overdoing it a
little, Sister Irene?"

"Don't pretend that you're not enjoying this, Alex," she replied,
grinning as she wiped the bloodstains off her hands and onto her
habit. In the blink of an eye, she had reverted to her other,
slightly less murderous personality. "Elaine loves the sound of evil
heretics dying in the morning! It brings joy and laughter to her dear
little heart!"

He allowed himself a small smile as he peered through the sight and
squeezed the trigger. "You're a bad influence on me, Sister."

She cackled insanely. "Of course I am, Alex! I'm madly in love with
you and I won't give up until you feel the same way!"

He pretended not to see the fishnet stockings that showed through the
ridiculously high slit of her dress. "I have a vow to the Holy
Mother."

"Then let Elaine be your Holy Mother, Alex!" She danced over the
field of corpses, cutting a swatch of blood as she moved. "Or Irene!
Or the both of us! We don't mind sharing!"

"No. And stop calling me Alex already."

"Not until you give yourself to me!"

(/Dream Sequence)

^ v ^

I stared at the bland, almost too bright walls. "Funny, I thought
hell would be a little more interesting than this."

"That's because this is Hellsing headquarters' intensive care unit,
not the underworld, Captain," Walter's voice sounded from somewhere
behind me.

I tried to look up to see where he was and immediately regretted it.
Yup. I was definitely shot in the chest, and several other places,
with the standard anti-vampire equipment. "Close enough. I thought I
was going to die." Wait, I was already dead. "Un-die." No, wait, I
was already undead. "Un-un-die." I scowled as a smile tugged at the
edge of Walter's lips. "Whatever."

"You were very fortunate, Captain. The bullet missed your heart by
mere centimeters. As it was, I found you in critical condition. Even
the doctors couldn't remove all of the pieces, for fear of destroying
you."

That explained why my chest still felt like it was on fire. "What
about the Millenium agents?"

"There were a few freaks left in the vicinity, but I took care of
them."

And of course, when Walter said 'took care' he meant sliced into bits
with what Seras and I had affectionately dubbed 'the Killer Floss of
Doom'. (Ah, the look on Walter's face when we first came up with that
term, and the near spit-take Sir Integra did into her tea.) "The
leader?"

"Dead. He was, as Alucard might put it, 'just a fleshy human with a
bag of tricks', but I doubt even a freak could have survived a silver
bullet in his head and a blessed blade in his chest."

"Blessed blade?" I felt the burn in my chest again. The direction in
which the bullet had missed did seem to correspond with the motion of
someone who had been hit by a sudden lateral force to the right.

Father Anderson was, of course, right handed. It almost went without
saying that he was just as deadly with the other one, but when we
fought together I was able to notice the subtle preference.

Meanwhile, Walter hadn't noticed the thoughtful look that crossed my
face, or pretended not to, and continued briefing me. "There was no
trace of any Iscariot agents by the time I got there. Given the
copious amounts of blood in that room, I would think that he was too
injured to bother with you."

"Something like that." Walter raised an eyebrow, and I gulped
mentally. Time to change the subject. "How is Alucard doing?"

"His reports are understandably brief and, per his nature,
irritatingly vague, but it seems that he is just fine. Despite what
banter was traded during the initial throwing of the gauntlet,
Millenium had not expected to be found so soon, and Alucard's raid of
their nest was quite disruptive." Walter smiled. "All of that became
possible thanks to you, Captain."

I felt my face flush. "I just happened to read a few books on
physics, that's all. You probably know more than I do."

"Perhaps, but I was not there, was I?" A nostalgic look crossed
Walter's face. "As my mentor once said, sometimes all life is, is
being at the right place in the right time." He smiled again. "Or
perhaps, in your case, the wrong place at the wrong time."

I winced. "Please don't remind me."

"My apologies. Sometimes I can't help myself. Oh, and by the way,"
he tapped the IV. "More regards from Sir Integra."

That made me smile. "That's the second time this year. Alucard will
go insane with jealousy when he finds out."

Walter winked. "I won't say anything if you won't."

"Bloody good that'll do. He can read minds."

"Ah, yes, I had almost forgotten that." Walter shot me a Significant
Look. "Useful skill, don't you think?"

"Quite."

"I must go to attend to Sir Integra." He bowed deeply. "Have a
pleasant day's sleep, Captain."

"Thanks, Walter."

I closed my eyes, and began to dream.

^ v ^

(Dream Sequence)

He checked his ammunition. "How many are left?"

"Too many." She flicked her wrist casually, and more melodic screams
of heretics leaving this earth echoed down the hallway. "Elaine
didn't know that they could breed this fast."

His rifle roared, taking down several more heretics. "I can take
another fifty with this thing, tops."

"Then use your blades, if you haven't conveniently forgotten them
again."

"I haven't. I just don't like using them."

"You use them well enough."

But she was so much better at it. She was a natural. She was born
to dance with the blade. He was a clumsy oaf, and will be for the
rest of his life, compared with her. "Perhaps."

She returned the sword to its sheath. "It's gone quiet. Too quiet."

"They've holed up again." He cursed this place. It was a maze of
hallways and doors and stairs and dead ends, and they were strangers
here. The heretics were not. "And they're waiting for us to come to
them, so they can pick us off."

"Well, Elaine is in no mood to be picked off." She shifted slightly,
so that her chest was pressing into his back. "There's a shaft behind
you. It's a bit of a squeeze, but I think we can make it."

He easily popped off the grate. "You're going first this time. I
don't enjoy the thought of you ogling me."

She giggled, climbing in nonetheless. "But you have such a cute
butt, Alex!"

He followed after her, doing one last canvasse of the area before
joining her in the darkness. "Don't call me Alex."

"What should Elaine call you, then? Father? Paladin? Hit man?
Bayonet? Killing judge? Angel dust?"

He had to laugh at that last one, remembering the rather embarrassing
circumstances it had come about. "You know what I mean, Sister."

"You're no fun." She shifted slightly again. "By the way, I'm not
wearing anything underneath my habit."

He was grateful that she could not see him color despite his struggle
not to. "You better be joking."

She didn't answer. Instead, she drew her sword again, and he
understood.

It was time for the killing to begin anew.

The dance began again, her sword and his rifle in perfect harmony in
comparison to the frantic chaos of the infidels beneath. He switched
to his blades as the last of the rounds ran out, and the metal sang as
it whistled through the air.

And then the dance ended, as all things were destined to end. But
this time, it was too soon.

She looked at the stain darkening her already bloodstained habit.
"It's funny--" she began, and then she fell, her sword falling to the
ground uselessly.

He caught her easily. She was smaller than him, as most women were,
but this time she felt lighter than ever. "Don't worry, it's just a
flesh wound."

"Liar. Elaine knows when her time has come." She grimaced as the
pain registered in her mind. "After all, 'it is appointed for men to
die once and after this comes judgment'."

"The mission hasn't finished yet, Sister. The hunt goes on."

"Don't you get it, Alex? It will never be done, as long as there is
evil in the world. Long after you and I have gone to Heaven they'll
still be churning out more little Alexes and Irenes and Elaines to
chop down the heretics and burn the unclean words and--" Her eyes
began to dilate. "I don't want to take the Lord's name in vain, Alex,
but--oh--"

He had seen many men die, good men of faith, holy servants of the
Lord, loyal warriors of Christ. But now, she was dying.

She was dying.

His light was dying.

Her hand reached up to touch his face. "Before Elaine and I go,
Alex, could you give me a holy kiss, as the Word of the Lord
commands?"

"Gladly, Sister." He was about to oblidge when she stopped him and
pointed to her lips.

"No, Alex. Here."

(/Dream Sequence)

^ v ^

Unfortunately, Sir Alucard wasn't quite thorough enough in his
extermination of Millenium, though he had more than decimated (verb,
killed every tenth person) their ranks, he'd slaughtered almost all of
them in glee.

Of course, the ones he'd missed were the really big fish.

As Seras, Sir Alucard and a considerably smaller number of
mercenaries raced back to London, Millenium stayed just far enough
ahead of them to launch an offensive against Hellsing manor. But
unlike the debacle with the Valentine brothers, Hellsing was ready and
waiting.

And, necessarily, Iscariot.

If you ever meet a fair-haired woman with a slight Germanic accent
accompanied by a mousy-looking Asian nun wearing glasses, make your
peace with God, fast. Because you might not have a chance to ever
again.

It was on days like this that I really, really hated being a vampire.

"You did that on purpose," I said, glaring at Sister Yumie, bandaging
the umpteenth cut on my arm. What was it with these fanatics and
cutting?

"We may be fighting a common enemy," Sister Yumie replied, her
unspoken 'for now' hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles.
"But at the end of the day, Iscariots prime targets are heretics and
heathens and agents of the devil."

Always that song and dance. Can't they ever say anything different?
But this time, I managed to keep my mouth shut. Mostly. "Argue
later. Kill freaks now."

Sister Yumie grinned, an expression even more frightening than her
scowl. "Now that is something I can agree with."

So we gloriously defended Queen, Country, and Protestantism, or Pope,
Faith, and Catholicism, or something. By the time it was all over, I
was too exhausted to really care about what we had accomplished other
than massive collateral damage.

I sprawled onto what was left of a sofa, shot to pieces a long time
ago. "This is going to be such a pain to clean."

Sister Heinkel continued to check for freaks despite the excellent
job we had done of eliminating them and my reassurance that Sir
Integra had dispatched of the head freak herself. "Boo hoo, cry me a
river." She looked over at Sister Yumie, who had long since reverted
to Sister Yumiko, and frowned. "Yumiko! Where the hell is Father
Anderson?"

Sister Sister Yumiko winced and muttered something about bad words
before speaking up. "How should I know, Heinkel? Yumie was too
busy--" she almost said 'killing', but froze and forced herself to use
a more pleasant sounding term, "--taking care of things."

I queried Sir Alucard, and only got an earful of his usual rantings
about how much fun it all was. "I think Sir Alucard's having another
pissing match with him." I flushed a bit as another one of Sir
Alucard's comments intruded on my thoughts. "And now they're goading
each other about the size of their weaponry."

Sister Yumiko colored pink as well, catching the innuendo, while
Sister Heinkel just made a derisive sound. "Men. They're all the
same." She rested her gun on her shoulder and tossed back her hair.
"We're going, Yumiko. Father Anderson can swim back to Rome, for all
I care."

"Coming!" Sister Yumiko stuttered, nearly tripping over her own toes.
Before she left, she turned and bowed to me. "I'm really very sorry
about Yumie!"

"Don't worry about it." I made what could be interpreted as a gesture
of papal-like forgiveness, and let myself have a small smile as Sister
Yumiko recognized it and paled a bit, her hand darting to her glasses.
"After all, I know a thing or two about inner demons, being one
myself."

Afterwards, we were commended by the Queen over the phone on what a
magnificent job we had done. Her words were little consolation for
the damage the Hellsing manor, as well as its ranks, suffered, but it
was a nice gesture. Walter put together a list of all the fallen and
held a memorial service for them on the lawn with the remaining
members. Seras commissioned a small tombstone with the name "Pip
Bernadette" on it and placed it in her room.

And then life went on, mostly.

^ v ^

(Dream Sequence)

So this was death. The numbness, the approaching dark, the cold.

He was so, so very cold.

'Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of
heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will
enter.'

He fought the familiar wave of panic as that passage rose into his
mind again. He was a good and faithful servant. He had done the will
of the Kingdom. He had brought justice. He had been loyal to the
cause.

'For I delight in loyalty rather than sacrifice, and in the knowledge
of God rather than burnt offerings.'

He was not afraid to die. He was not afraid to die. He was not
afraid to die.

'I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME, YOU WHO PRACTICE LAWLESSNESS.'

Shadows loomed over him. Have they come to take him away?

"This is the one who took on that group of terrorists
single-handedly?"

"Yes, Father Maxwell. Sister Irene unfortunately perished during the
initial storming of the base."

"Sister...Irene? Oh, yes, the berserker."

He wanted to leap out of bed and rip out this shadow's throat. How
dare it speak of her in that tone of voice?

"My, my, he's still quite feisty after all that he's been through.
Excellent. I believe we have the first candidate for Project
Longinus."

(/Dream Sequence)

^ v ^

Enrico Maxwell was not a likable man.

Imagine the most egotistical, stuck-up, misogynist, childish, snotty,
and down right disgusting person you know. Yeah. That guy. The one
in your junior high school class that all the other bullies would
rally around because he was perfect, and the rest of the world so
obviously wasn't.

We were, for diplomatic reasons that didn't become clear until we got
there, forced to meet with Iscariot. Maxwell chose the location, Sir
Integra chose the time. That was how we--Sirs Integra and Alucard,
myself, and Seras of Hellsing, Fathers Maxwell and Renaldo, and
Sisters Heinkel and Yumiko of Iscariot--ended up in an open-air
Parisian cafe in the middle of the winter.

The minute Sir Integra walked into view, Maxwell stood and offered
her a boquet of yellow roses, leering at her with crocodile teeth.
Sir Alucard appeared behind her and LEERED back by stretching his lips
until they almost reached his ears.

"Behave yourself, Alucard." Sir Integra pointedly did not take the
roses, but instead proceeded directly to her seat, which she pulled
out herself. She then sat down, crossing her arms as she did so. The
rest of us minus Maxwell remained standing, as the table only had one
other chair, and shit tended to hit the fan especially fast whenever
Iscariot was around. "Why have you called us here, Maxwell? Come to
gloat about how Hellsing required the help of Iscariot in the defense
of its own mansion?"

"That, as satisfying as it would be, is not the case." Maxwell was
all business now. "I have come to demand restitution for the loss of
Iscariot's best soldier--" he amended himself quickly, "--no offense
to either of you, Sister Heinkel, Sister Yumiko."

The aformentioned Sisters simply nodded silently, while Sir Integra
frowned. "Alucard, what did you do with Anderson?"

"Just the usual hack and slash, Master," Sir Alucard replied, ever
the picture of obviously feigned innocence. "I returned him in one
piece. Mostly."

Maxwell scowled. "I am not referring to your lead dog." He turned
his glare at me. "This--this abomination of a vampire has somehow
confused Anderson's mind, and he was taken by the Grand Inquisitor to
be questioned."

"How's that supposed to be my fault? He's the one that has creepy
pedophile stalker vibes!" I shouted before I could stop myself.

Sir Integra didn't move, but if she could grow eyes in the back of
her head and glare at me, she would. "Captain."

I gulped. "I'll shut up now, Sir Integra."

"Despite my disapproval of my subordinate's outburst, I agree with
her." Integra brought up her gloved hands and interlinked them in
front of her mouth. "Your priest was already a most annoying
destraction before the Captain joined our ranks, and he has only
gotten worse since."

"That Vatican dog does have a strange sort of fondness for the
Captain," Alucard added casually. "That was why I had made her my kin
in the first place."

"So it was your doing after all!" Maxwell stabbed an accusatory
finger towards Integra.

Sir Integra almost smiled. "I neither confirm nor deny the
allegations you are making."

Maxwell slammed the table. "I'm not here to play games with you,
Protestant swine! I want vengance! Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life
for life!"

Sir Integra arched an eyebrow. "Last I checked, neither Anderson nor
the Captain here were capable of dying."

Just as the tension was getting murderously high, Maxwell's phone
rang. He answered it, still glaring daggers at Sir Integra. "Maxwell
here." He glowered even more. "I see. That will be useful in the
negotiations." He hung up, his expression positively deadly now.
"Anderson has just confessed. He gave that thing," and here his eyes
fell on me again, "his blood."

Delayed reaction coming in three, two, one...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?" Seras shrieked in disbelief.

"That explains a lot," I muttered a bit too loudly.

"Captain." Sir Integra's body language suggested that if we were not
in public, she might have shot me. In the face. Repeatedly. "Are
Maxwell's allegations true?"

"I think so, Sir. During the raid previous to the attack on the
mansion, I got shot up pretty badly. Walter can attest to that."

"Yes, he mentioned how fortunate you were in surviving."

The familiar burning sensation rose in my chest again. "I was dying,
sir. I remember that quite clearly. I had sort of jokingly asked
Father Anderson for last rites, and then I woke up in the hospital."

"Highly circumstantial evidence and hardly damning," Sir Integra
remarked.

I sighed mentally. Time to drop the bombshell. "And while I was
recovering, I had visions of Father Anderson when he was younger. I
thought it was the morphine talking, but now that I think about it..."
I fought the blush that rose to my face without much success. "Father
Anderson is a virgin, isn't he? Vow of celibacy and all."

Sister Yumie's sword sliced across my neck, drawing a thin red line
of blood. "I will enjoy sending you to hell, undead whore."

It was Sir Integra's turn to answer a phone call. "Walter, I'm still
in the middle of talks with Maxwell." Walter could be heard answering
indistinctly. "I see. I'll have Alucard pick them up, then."

Sir Alucard stepped into the shadows. "Already on my way, Master." A
moment later, he had returned, a manila file folder in his hands. He
tossed it on the table carelessly.

Sir Integra pushed the folder to Maxwell. "Before you make any
further demands, Maxwell, I suggest that you peruse the fruits of our
research. It makes for a most enlightening read."

Maxwell looked suspicious, but he opened the folder nonetheless.
Disbelief, shock, rage, and then finally an extremely dangerous smile
crossed his face. "You are right, Sir Hellsing." All of us blinked at
his usage of a somewhat more civil term, while he continued. "This
does complicate things quite a bit. However, we must verify this
infomation ourselves before we make any moves."

Sir Integra surely smiled behind her gloves. She had won. "In the
meantime, I'll have my subordinates retrieve Anderson for you.
Hellsing does owe you that much."

Father Renaldo stepped forward and placed a small square of paper on
the table. "This is where Father Anderson is being held." He laid a
small business card on top of the paper. "And this is where we are to
meet again."

Sir Integra took one look at the information, memorized it, then
threw it into her wineglass and burned it with her lighter. "I warn
you, I make no guarentee for the lives of anyone in that building."

Maxwell handed the folder to Father Renaldo. "We shall ensure that
there are no innocent bystanders."

"Good. Then this meeting is over." Sir Integra stood. "Alucard.
Seras. Captain."

We snapped to attention. "Your orders, My Master?" Alucard purred,
his eyes already taking on an edge of bloodlust.

"Search and destroy." A small smile played at the edge of her lips.
"And retrieve that Vatican dog."

^ v ^

We found Father Anderson on the bottom floor, broken both in body and
in spirit. Seras, being of weaker constitution than I was, excused
herself to make sure that we had cleared the area. Alucard
disappeared somewhere with a smirking comment about lovebirds.

That left me.

I paced around him, looking at the symbols carved into the floor.
"Lovely. More of this stuff." I sighed. This was, partially, my
fault after all, so it was only appropriate that I brave the gauntlet.
I stepped into the circle, grimacing as the holy words reacted to a
being of the underworld.

Father Anderson opened his eyes. "Why are you here?" His voice was
weak and cracked.

"Well, I figured that since you saved me from hell, I should return
the favor," I answered with a lot more cheerfulness than I felt. I
reached out to examine his chains, and pulled my hand back as it
balked me violently. "Okay, looks like I'll have to try a different
approach."

"They won't come off. They've been sealed by the Grand Inquisitor
himself."

"No offense intended, Father Anderson, but the Grand Inquisitor can
go bugger himself." I braced myself and tried again. Agony coursed
through my body. No dice. "Just because you had some funky thoughts
about a vampire doesn't mean you should spend the rest of eternity
being punished for it."

His gaze steadfastly refused to meet mine. "Everyone who looks at a
woman with lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his
heart."

"First of all, I don't think I count as a woman any more. And
second, I highly doubt that you have one lusty bone in your body." I
pulled out my gun and fired at a link. Nothing happened. "You're
probably such a fucking saint that you don't even molest altar boys."

For a moment, a bit of the old Father Anderson came back. Then he
was moping again. "It does not matter. I have sinned and shamed the
name of the Lord."

I grabbed him by his collar, not caring about the pretty little
sparks the seals were giving off. "I thought that was the point, you
stubborn asswipe. 'For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of
God' and all that. Besides, there were extenuating circumstances."

"The wages of sin is death."

"The gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord," I shot
back. He seemed on the verge of quoting more scripture at me, so I
shook him a few times. "Come on, Anderson, stop acting like you're in
Seminary and tell me how the hell to get you out of here!"

"You could try using the keys," Sir Alucard suggested, reappearing
behind me with said keys dangling merrily from a lock of his hair.

"GAH!" I almost dropped Father Anderson, but I managed to set him
down gently. I turned to Sir Alucard and held out my hand. "All
right, then, give them to me."

Sir Alucard glanced at Father Anderson with a mixture of amusement
and contempt. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. Sir Integra has commanded it."

"And if she didn't?"

It was my turn to regard Father Anderson. Despite what he thought,
nobody deserved to be treated like this, not even him. Not even
Master Alucard, for that matter. "I'd probably still do it anyway."

Sir Alucard tossed the keys towards me with a negligent air. "That
attitude will get you killed someday, Captain."

I bobbled the keys like a hot potato. "I'm already dead." I quickly
unlocked the chains and helped Father Anderson move into a more
comfortable position. I frowned as I saw the state of his legs.
"Man, they really fucked you up. Are you sure you're not a
masochist?"

Father Anderson seemed marginally relieved. "You're making a
terrible mistake."

"Maybe. Maybe not." I gave him a fanged smile. "But at least I'll
get to rub this in your face later."

Sir Alucard cleared his throat. "This is all very touching, Captain,
but Master is getting impatient."

"Then warp us out of here." A thought occurred to me. "You can do
that, even with all this holy magic around, right?"

"Of course." Alucard grinned again. "But it would be infinitely more
amusing to have you carry the Vatican dog out of here by foot."

I was about to protest when he repeated the order in my mind quite
firmly. Dammit. I was so used to calling him Sir that I nearly
forgot the real relationship. "Fine, be that way." I began pulling
Father Anderson onto my back, silently thankful that he was too
surprised to react. "Give me a hand, will you?"

Sir Alucard easily boosted Father Anderson the rest of the way, and
then disappeared, leavning me to make the long ascent by myself.

I trudged along in uncomfortable silence for a while. Then I decided
that it might be a good idea to talk to Father Anderson so he doesn't
slip off into another spiral of self-pity. "So." I scoured my mind
for topics of conversation and couldn't help feeling a bit mischievous
as I remembered the visions again. "Did you kiss Sister Irene where
she asked you to?"

That got a bit of a rise. "None of your business."

Time to push a little. "You do know I can read your mind, right?"

He stewed for a good minute before finally saying something other
than the usual doctrinal garbage. "She was a child forced to grow up
far too fast. Her whimsy was just a front to cover the pain she
felt."

"It happens. You have to go a little mad to stay sane in a war.
Besides, she's in a better place now."

"I..." he hesitated significantly. "I wish I could believe that with
all my heart."

Oho. So he wasn't completely without his doubts. But I wasn't about
to continue down that line of thought, or my good intentions might
backfire on me. "By the way, has the regeneration kicked in yet?"

"I feel less constricted, but that's about it." He shifted slightly,
and managed to move his arms upward so that they were no longer
awkwardly close to my chest.

Speaking of which, I could feel bits of silver working its way out of
my body. To distract my mind from the pain, I started to sing. "A
mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing. Our helper He
amist the flood of mortal ills prevaling..."

He didn't miss a beat. "Martin Luther."

"Yup." Time to discuss theology again. "He didn't mean to start any
heresies, you know. He was just a man of conscience who grieved at
the rot in the Church."

"Can't you sing something else?"

"Well..." A certain Monty Python melody floated into my head, and I
couldn't help myself. "Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great!
If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate!"

He blushed furiously. "A different song!"

I had to smirk again. He asked for it. "It's a small world after
all..."

"No! Anything but that!"

^ v ^

Father Anderson's regeneration finally started kicking in as we
pulled away from the building. I, on the other hand, was starting to
bleed as the wound reopened itself.

I muttered a curse under my breath. "Father Anderson, please turn
away for a minute." When he didn't, I shrugged and started unbuttoning
my shirt. "All right, suit yourself."

"What do you think you're doing, vampire!" Father Anderson shouted,
covering his eyes and turning red again.

"Picking out the bits of silver still stuck in my lungs, that's
what." I crossed my arms across my chest, feeling a bit self-conscious
now. "Seras, could you please?"

Seras didn't look too happy at the idea. "Do I have to?"

"Would you rather Sir Alucard do it? Knowing him, he'd probably lick
them out with his tongue."

Father Anderson was practically the shade of a tomato. "I didn't
need to hear that!"

Seras scooted closer, still pouting. "All right, fine."

I braced myself as Seras undid the bandages and reached in.

I didn't scream this time. That was an improvement. I only broke a
little bit of skin when my hands clenched into fists, too. But I
couldn't do anything about the whimpers that escaped from my throat.
I sucked air through my teeth, blinking desperately to keep my vision
clear.

And then it was over, at least until the next time this had to
happen. Seras quickly dressed the wound with a new roll and helped me
put my shirt back on as my fingers were a bit unresponsive.

I sank against the seat and let out a long sigh. "You can look now.
I'm done."

Father Anderson lowered his hands, his eyes on the pile of gauze
spotted with bits of red and black. "How long does it take you to
heal?"

"Depends. Minor cuts and nicks don't bother me much. Broken bones
aren't too much of a problem as long as I set them right. Bullet
wounds close up pretty quick now, but it takes an hour or so for my
body to spit out the slug. The holy stuff..." I pressed my hand to my
chest, "I haven't been around long enough to know, but none of mine
have healed all the way."

Seras pulled down her collar, showing the scar from her first
encounter with Father Anderson. "Same here."

"The wounds never stop hurting," Sir Alucard informed us, poking his
head through the partition. "It's part of God's cruel joke on us,
whose who turned our backs on His advances." He leaned his shoulders
through, as well, so that we could see he had turned his head all the
way around. "Hell has no fury like a Deity scorned."

Father Anderson flared, but said nothing. The rest of the trip
continued without any further dialogue until we neared the rendezvous
point.

Sir Integra rolled down the window of the partition. "Captain."

I snapped to attention. "Yes, Sir?"

"You will accompany me into the building." She turned her attention
to Sir Alucard. "And you will not enter unless I command it, Alucard,
nor will you antagonize any of the clergy."

Alucard almost looked genuinely hurt. "What am I supposed to do,
then, Master? Cruise the beat with the police girl?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

"That's not fair," Alucard pouted, and I coughed into my hand to keep
from laughing. "Why does she get to go in and not me?"

"Because this concerns her most directly. You may be responsible,
but the Vatican isn't so stupid as to attempt to demand your head on a
silver platter."

"They want a scapegoat," Father Anderson realized with the slightest
touch of a snarl. "And what would be more convenient than one of
Hellsing's infamous vampires?"

"I have no interest in letting the Vatican destroy one of my agents,
Father Anderson." Sir Integra put out the cigar she had been smoking
as Walter pulled the car to a stop. "Besides, the Captain isn't the
only pawn in this game."

^ v ^

I was starting to get a headache. Why did these idiots never take
the easy way out?

Sir Integra looked both amused and annoyed as she pretended to be
caught in the traitorous bishop's grasp. "You are even more fanatical
than I thought, Smith. Would you risk the reputation of the Holy See
as well as the wrath of God just to destroy me?"

Smith's face went purple with rage. If he wasn't occupied with
holding onto Sir Integra with one hand and the detonator with the
other, he would have slapped her. "Shut up, you insolent sow! What
makes you think you are some agent of God? The last time there was an
upstart like you, we burned her at the stake!"

This time, Sir Integra smiled. "And then you made her a saint so
that the people of France would not riot and storm your churches with
torches and pitchforks."

His Holiness watched the spectacle with tired eyes. "Enough of this,
Bishop Smith." His English was almost perfect, with a tinge of Eastern
Europe in the accents. "Your actions were extreme, but they were
committed in the best interest of the Holy Mother." That was a
bald-faced lie, and everybody in the room knew it from Smith's
rantings. The man acted out of sheer spite, his insane jealousy of
Maxwell driving him to arrange for Anderson's supposed indescretions.
For the time being, though, Sir Integra's safety was more important
than the truth. "If you will kindly release Sir Hellsing--"

"Never!" Smith shifted slightly, and I got a good look at the bombs
strapped to his body. They looked to be home-made, nothing too
powerful, but probably enough to deliver a fatal punch. "I'll send
this bitch to Judecca even if I have to go with her!"

That was when three things happened almost simultaneously.

First, Sir Integra put her self-defense lessons to good use and
twisted out of Smith's grasp, wrenching Smith's arm in a very
uncomfortable position.

Second, Father Anderson lept out of his seat with supernatural speed
and PUNCHED the now defenseless Smith in the stomach, driving the bomb
through the his flesh.

Third, I appeared behind Smith and caught him before he could crash
into the wall behind us, and jumped for all my worth towards the high,
vaulted ceiling.

Then the bomb detonated.

That motherfucker Smith. He'd filled it with nails and shards of
glass and Greek fire on top of that.

I vaguely remembered landing heavily onto one of the pews below,
getting the world's worst splinter in the process.

Sir Alucard was right. We'd found a kind of eternal life apart from
God, but He would get the last laugh.

And God had a very, very weird sense of humor.

^ v ^

I woke up to the sight of another bland ceiling. "Not again. I hope
this doesn't become a habit." I looked at the blood bag hanging above
my head. "I wonder whose that is this time."

Walter appeared in my vision. "If I told you, Captain, that would
ruin the surprise."

I sighed mentally. At times, Walter could be just as bad as Sir
Alucard about appearing suddenly. "What happened?"

Walter smiled. "I believe, Captain, that somebody set up us the
bomb."

I groaned. "I meant after that."

"I suppose I don't really have to say that Smith didn't survive the
blast, but I figure you would feel some small satisfaction in hearing
the news."

"I'm not the vindictive type, Walter, you know that. Besides, he
probably died immediately, the lucky bastard."

"Yes, that was most unfortunate." Walter adjusted his monocle. "But
you will also be relieved to hear that no one else was injured, as the
explosion was minor. Smith had indeed only planned to take out Sir
Integra; he did not wish to accidentally send His Holiness to the
hearafter in the process."

"How thoughtful of him." Lancets of pain radiated whenever I moved,
which was a lot more often than I'd liked. "I guess this means that
Father Anderson's back in with Iscariot."

Walter nodded. "He kept trying to confess something, but His
Holiness would hear none of it. There was the mention of a Genesis
2:18, and Anderson did not make any more attempts to argue after
that."

"The LORD God said, 'It is not good for the man to be alone. I will
make a helper suitable for him'," I recited out loud thoughtfully.
"What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"Actually, Captain, that's the reason why I'm here instead of back in
London." Walter peered at me intently. "How would you like to be a
regenerator?"

"Hm. I dunno. Sounds kind of nice." Then I realized what Walter had
actually said. "Wait, what?" I sat bolt upright, but only for a
moment, then fell back into the pillows, cursing with pain.

Walter drew out a hankerchief from...somewhere and dabbed at the
blood that seeped through my stitches. "You have done a great service
to both Hellsing and Iscariot, and both sides agree that there should
be a return favor."

The throbbing began to subside. "I'd rather go back to being a
boring old anime fangirl."

"That's rather impossible, I'm afraid."

"It's still a nice dream." I began to relax again. "What does Sir
Alucard think?"

"He's not entirely happy, of course, but in his words, 'at least the
Captain will stop griping how I didn't give her a choice any more'.
End quote."

Yes, a choice. That was all I had asked for, wasn't it? "Is the
procedure painful?"

"Very."

"Figures." Another thought crossed my mind. "I won't have to become
a Catholic or anything, do I?"

"His Holiness has waived that particular requirement, and Sir Integra
brilliantly negotiated for your continued employment in Hellsing."

So, all that was left was for me to say the word.

I was suddenly aware of another stream of thoughts and emotions
coming from just outside the door. A fierce struggle was ensuing
there, too, between denial and discipline and deep yearning.

Whispering a silent word of thanks towards my unseen guardian, I made
my decision.

It was time to move on.

I gave Walter a bleary smile. "Where do I sign up?"

^ v ^

I started feeling just a bit nervous as they clamped me down with
metal cuffs. "Is this really necessary?"

"Just a precaution, Captain. The change can be quite...dramatic." A
small mouthpiece was brought into view. "And this will also be
necessary as well, so that you do not bite off your own tongue in the
process."

"I knew it. The Church is into bondage," I muttered before
submitting to the gag.

I felt a syringe pierce my arm, and the world went white.

My life flashed before my eyes. Everything that had happened to me
replayed itself on all my sensations in a single agonizing moment. I
was probably screaming bloody murder, thrashing and trying to get the
hell off the operating table.

And then someone took my hand. I clutched at it desperately, my only
line back to the world of the living.

A voice sounded in my ear. "Perseverence, Captain. This too shall
pass."

I'd recognize that accent anywhere. Father Anderson. The pain was
still intolerable, but now I was finally able to regain some clarity.

That was when he began to sing.

"And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo
us, we will not fear, for God hath willed his truth to triumph through
us."

I hummed along, tears streaming out of my eyes.

"The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him; his rage we can
endure, for lo, his doom is sure; one little word shall fell him."

^ v ^

Time passed, and stuff happened.

Well, all right, I suppose I should be a little more specific.

Sir Integra cleverly got around the whole "marry and beget and heir
or be turned into a vampire" issue by the wonders of modern
technology. As a compromise to Sir Alucard, who was understandably
furious about being thwarted (but relieved that Sir Integra didn't
have to give up her virginity), Sir Integra did not become bear the
children herself, but instead asked me to be the surrogate mother.

And yes, I was quite capable of becoming pregnant. All of the
plumbing was still there, after all, and my body was eternally frozen
at the right age.

It was not an experience I cared to relieve, ever.

In appreciation for my, um, contribution to the Hellsing line, Sir
Integra allowed me to help name the future heirs, so I dubbed them
after my own "children"--that is, my first two fictional characters.

On a cold and very unpleasant day in December, Sirs Adam Edward
Farbrook Hellsing and Michelle Lenore Wingates Hellsing came into the
world.

We called them the Twin Terrors.

Father Anderson always seemed to find some excuse to drop by while I
was stuck in the house during the first decade or so and was a
surprisingly good parental figure. Turns out that he helped run an
orphanage when he wasn't running around destroying creatures of evil.

Outside of the battlefield, Father Anderson was a big teddy bear.
And between him, Walter, and Sir Alucard, they spoiled the kids
rotten. But like most children, they grew up to be fine,
well-adjusted adults, and they were Sir Integra's pride and joy.

In the Twins' thirteenth year, Walter passed away peacefully in his
sleep, but not before training a young boy named Norman to be the next
Angel of Death. It was during Walter's funeral that I saw Sir Integra
publicly shed tears for the first--and only--time that I knew.
Afterwards, Sir Integra began delgating the responsibilities of
running Hellsing to the Twins, so that by the time of her retirement
she was the head in name only.

Sir Alucard was almost inconsolable when Sir Integra died twenty
years after that. He didn't show it on his face, of course, but
random objects around the mansion kept breaking mysteriously, the
destruction escalating until it seemed he wouldn't stop until he had
torn the entire structure to the ground. Sir Adam, ever practical,
didn't mind the vandalism as long as Sir Alucard didn't hurt anyone,
since everything else was replacable, but Sir Michelle was starting to
get annoyed by all of the senseless violence.

Cue for one Iscariot paladin, stage left.

Nobody is certain what transpired during the battle--we all very
wisely cleared the area--but they emerged from the depths of the
mansion grinning like maniacs, Sir Alucard having returned to his
usual acerbic self. They became great friends after that, aside from
the usual bickering and trying to kill each other, anyway.

The Vatican elected a new Pope sometime after that, one who was quite
forward thinking and in the true spirit of the Lord. The Catholic
Church, and thereofre Iscariot, was transformed into a much more
benevolent force concerned with true social justice instead of the
hypocritical, heretic-slaying kind. This kept Hellsing very busy, as
the Pope attracted a number of enemies from all sides due to His
Holiness' unconventional ways. I was fine with that, of course,
because this meant I got to see Father Anderson quite a bit.

Ah, yes, Father Anderson. Things always came back to him, didn't
they?

We were--in rumor, at least--a confirmed couple. In reality, we had
a mutual "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" agreement. Father Anderson was quite
serious about his vows of chastity, and I was a bit leery of sex
myself, considering the traumatizing memories associated. We were
friends, comrades, siblings, and clearly heading towards something
more, but we respected each other's boundaries far too much to be
pushing the envelope.

Besides, he had already given so much for me--his blood, his job, his
time, and most importantly, his presence--and I hadn't even begun to
repay the debts that I owed him.

Fine, fine, I'll tell you about our first kiss, but that's it.

^ v ^

I had finished putting Sir Candace Farbrook Wingates Hellsing, Sir
Integra's great-granddaughter, to bed after relating to her the
(greatly censored, of course) story of how I had become a member of
Hellsing--and, after all these years of faithful service, how I never
received a promotion, hint hint. She sleepily promised me to think
about it before heading off to the realm of dream. I closed the door
behind me and nearly screamed as Father Anderson snuck up from behind.

"Sir Alucard's having a bad influence on you," I gasped.

"I don't deny it. After all these years, somethings bound to rub off
on me." He smiled. "You're a good storyteller."

I scratched my cheek. "Actually, that was a sort of dream of mine,
before." I didn't finish the sentence because he knew what I was
referring to.

"You ever consider pursuing that now?"

"Not really. I used to write because I loved to imagine great
adventures." We began walking down the hall so our talking wouldn't
disturb Sir Candace. "But now, the truth I experience around me is
weirder than anything I could possibly make up."

We sat down in the kitchen. I poured Father Anderson a steaming mug
of coffee and myself a glass of milk. "I wouldn't have time to write
anything anyway, what with all the places Sir Hellsing sends me
traipsing off to." I drank the milk in nearly one gulp, while Father
Anderson sipped at his slowly. "And what about you, Father Anderson?
Did you have any dreams other than to destroy heretics and heathens?"

He pondered momentarily. "I suppose I wanted to join the choir, as a
boy, but my words were rather incomprehensible even for the members of
my own family."

I chuckled. "It's too bad. You have a wonderful singing voice."

His earlobes turned pink. "So you figured it out."

"It was elementary, my dear Father Anderson. You were the only
suspect who would be so considerate as to stay by my side during such
a harrowing procedure," he opened his mouth to protest but I cut him
off, "not to mention survive getting the hell squeezed out of his
hand."

Father Anderson stared into the half-empty mug. "I--" he began, and
stopped.

I felt that he was at the edge of something important, so I said
nothing. I just waited. I got up to place the glass in the sink when
he spoke again.

"I loved her."

Her. He didn't need to say her name. I turned around and leaned
against the counter.

He took in a deep breath. "But it was only as a sister. Nothing
more. And when she asked me to kiss her..." he pressed his hands over
his eyes. "I was too foolishly dedicated to my cause to see that it
would have been harmless to give her what she wanted. She died with a
broken heart."

He'd finally said it. Why he was drawn to me, why he felt and acted
the way he did. I walked over to him and placed a hand on his
shoulder. "Well, I'm not her. I'm not going to die, not now, not
ever, and I'm content to walk this path with you by your side until
the end of time."

He didn't look up at me. "Even if--"

"Even if we have to spend eternity like this, yes. I have to admit,
it's a little frustrating at times, but I can live with it. Besides,"
and here I smirked, "unlike you, I have no qualms about relieving my
sexual tensions in a non-traditional fashion."

This time, his face burned. He was so cute when he became
embarrassed.

"As much as I'd like to continue this particular line of thought, I'm
afraid I can't stay any longer." I began heading out the door. "After
all, the night is still young."

"Wait."

I stopped at the threshold. "What?"

"Before you go, could you..." He drew in a deep, long breath and let
it out slowly. "Give me a holy kiss?"

I didn't dare turn around, feeling my face starting to warm. "The
kind on the hand, or the kind on the lips?"

His fingers brushed against mine, and an electric thrill ran through
the both of us. "The second."

I suddenly felt like a schoolgirl. "This will be my first real kiss,
you know."

"And mine as well."

We bumped noses on our first attempt.
---
Unnecessarily Long and Boring Authoress' Notes:
It had started as a tongue in cheek r.a.a.m. challenge on how you
would respond to waking up in bed naked with certain anime characters.
For whatever reason, the Evil Muse wouldn't leave me alone on coming
up with a more detailed follow-up concerning the happy little
vampire-hunting group at Hellsing.
The continuity depicted here is a sort of mix of the anime and manga,
with a good dose of my own speculation thrown in. (Including the
Anderson-centered flashbacks. And sorry, Pip fans, he only gets a
passing mention because I haven't gotten to that part of the manga
yet.)
The bits of the bible being quoted by Iscariot members are from the
New American Standard Version. If I really wanted to be nitpicky, I'd
have them quote the Latin Vulgate or something, but I'm not that
fanatical. The version that I quote from, on the other hand, is the
New International Version.
Longinus is supposedly the name of the soldier who pierced Jesus' side
witih a spear, and according to some legends was cursed to wander the
earth for all eternity. I figure that makes an appropriate name for a
project concerned with making regenerators.