An Unexpected Encounter

An Unexpected Encounter



He had debated silently to himself for an hour on the approach to the town as far as whether to bed along the road outside the city limits or if he wanted to attempt to get a room at a local inn. Normally he would opt for the former, but it had been so long since he had slept in a real bed that he decided to find a room for the night.

He found a pub on the outside of the town that advertised a couple of rooms in the upstairs. He was thankful that the inkeeper--a rather short portly fellow with a slightly too cheery attitude--didn't find him suspicious. He paid for the room, a meal included in the price. Although he had no desire for the meal, he chose to receive it at a corner table of the pub. The innkeeper sat a worn wooden bowl full of what appeared to be beef stew in front of him, followed by a small kettle of tea. He nodded his thanks and watched the innkeeper walk away.

The pub was empty for the most part--perhaps five other people present either taking a meal or drinking ale at the bar. He turned to the meal in front of him. He took up the cup of recently poured tea and sipped the liquid. He pushed the meat around in the bowl with the provided spoon, still trying to decide whether he wanted to attempt to eat any of it.

***************

She rode her cybernetic horse through the town. She was planning on riding straight through, but something made her pause as she passed a pub on the opposite side. There was a black cyborg horse tethered outside the building--not exactly something out of the ordinary--but something about it seemed familiar. She guided her own horse over to it and studied it closer.

It wasn't the horse itself that she recognized, but rather the condition of its joints. It was a relatively new horse, but the knee joints appeared as worn as a ten or twenty year old steed. Besides that, the rider had left the bridal and saddle on the horse--apparently they either had some security precaution to avoid the pieces being stolen, or they were being very trusting of the townspeople. As she stared at the pieces of equipment, the decoration that adorned the bridal seemed more and more familiar to her.

"Naw..." she muttered to herself. "It can't be him..." Still, her curiosity had been peaked, and she decided to tether her own horse and go into the pub.

She was a luscious woman, possessing more dramatic curves than the average woman in that part of the frontier. She wore tight jeans tucked into knee-high riding boots, a leather jacket doing little to cover the swell of her ample bosom. Most women would be terrified to travel alone on the frontier, let alone dressed so provocatively. However, the two cannon-like hand guns she had holstered to her hips probably worked fairly well as a deterrent to over-zealous men.

She entered the pub, the attention of all the sparse occupants drawn instantly to her--all save one. He hid in the corner by himself, a dark cloud seeming to fall over him, actually masking his presence just a bit. She was sure the others in the pub had slowly forgotten he was even there.

Her heart felt full to bursting, and the girl that still remained somewhere inside of her wanted to scream his name and tackle him. However, they were both too old for such ridiculous behavior. She moved to the bar, ordering a beer from the innkeeper to avoid suspicion before walking toward him.

He was studying what appeared to be a bowl of stew. He either still had not noticed her, was choosing to ignore her, or he still didn't realize who she was.

She was now standing three feet away from him. She stood and stared for a moment, trying to decide what to say.

"What do you want?" his soft voice trickled out from under his traveler's hat. Nope. He had no idea that it was her.

"Such a way to greet an old friend," she scolded, a grin spreading across her face. "It's been a long time, Sir Hellsing."

**************

He very nearly dropped his cup. He hadn't been called by that name for at least a millennium. He carefully set the cup down, a small smile breaking the stone of his face before he glanced up at her. She was just as she was when he'd seen her last, eyes bright blue, unruly strawberry blonde hair cut short and sticking out at odd angles. She grinned at him wider, one fang peeking over her bottom lip.

"Seras..." he whispered, warmth coloring his voice for the first time in years.

"Stand up," she said, sitting her untouched beer down on his table. He obliged, slowly rising to tower over her. "I am going to hug you now, so get used to the idea," she said, wrapping her arms around his chest and squeezing him tightly enough to break bones in a mortal. He wrapped his arms around her in response, his right hand resting on the top of her head. "I'm glad to see you're still alive, Seras."

"I've missed you, Damien," she whispered, noting how he tensed at the sound of his real name. "We have a lot of catching up to do." She pulled away from him, suppressing a laugh seeing his luke-warm expression. He sure had inherited the Ice Queen's demeanor.

"I purchased a room for the night. We should reminisce in private."

She nodded, "Lead the way."

The room was small, barely ten feet across--enough room for a small bed and sitting table with two feet of floor space between the two. D held the door open, allowing Seras to enter first.

"Homey," she commented, barely avoiding ramming her hip into the table. She shrugged her jacket off, revealing a black cotton tee underneath it. D entered behind her, closing and locking the door.

Almost instantly a small disembodied voice started mumbling as D sat his sword against the wall, placing first his hat and then his cloak on the hilt. The mumbling became more insistent. Seras giggled, knowing full well who was mumbling. D turned to face her, pulling at the glove covering his left hand.

"Ah! That's better," the voice said clearly, "OK, let me up! I wanna see her for myself!" D lifted his hand so that his palm faced outward, the wrinkled face appearing in the palm of his hand. "Holy shit, it really is the Police Girl!" The sumbiot gaped.

Seras laughed, "And here I thought I escaped that name."

"You know me, sister, I live to irritate," the face smiled. "And our friend is a perfect match for me in that--he's just so easy."

"Are you done?" D asked the parasite.

"I was just getting comfortable."

Seras laughed again, taking a step toward D's outstretched arm.

"Have you been keeping him safe?" she asked, talking to the wrinkled face. It grinned back at her.

"Hell no! But I've saved his stupid ass a few times.

"Thank you," she said, taking D's hand and kissing the palm at the equivalent of the parasite's cheek. She released him and the tumor bubbled.

"Hee-hee, I'm never going to wash this palm again!" the wrinkled face sang.

"All right," D grumbled, "You're going back in the glove." And without warning he pulled the snug leather back over his hand, muffling the parasite's annoyed protests.

Seras smiled, "Gotta admit, he makes life interesting."

"Unbearably so..."

Seras sat down on the bed, noting it was soft but rather lumpy. She watched him closely as he pulled the chair from the table and sat across from her.

"Your hair is a lot longer," she murmured. He nodded. "You look more and more like him every time I see you. How long has it been since you saw him last?"

"I strengthened the wards fifteen years ago. We actually had a bit of a scuffle this last time," D answered. "You?"

She sighed and shook her head. "It's been centuries. He doesn't want me there. His shadows don't even acknowledge me..."

He nodded again, looking down at the guns still strapped to her hips. He smiled again, "I can't believe you're still carrying those. Do they even still work?"

"Yup," she grinned, pulling the cannon-like semi-automatics from the holsters and handing them to him. "Picked up a few techniques to care for them over the years. What do you think My Master would do if he knew I had them?"

D took the black gun from her and studied it. The engraving still shown brightly: Jesus Christ is in Heaven Now. It was his father's favorite arm while he was still himself. It was actually a recreation of the original, but it was still essentially the same gun. He handed it back to Seras, taking the older weapon: the Casull. He turned the gun over in his hands. It was heavy, though Jackal was heavier. A normal human could barely lift either, and the recoil of the weapons would throw a mortal's arm out of joint. He was hit with a wave of nostalgia as he held the piece. When he was a boy and was old enough to go into the field the Casull had been his weapon, his father sporting the Jackal. He turned the gun over again before taking a firm grip on the handle, stretching out his arm and aiming it out the small window for old time's sake.

"Do you want them back?" Seras asked, "They are rightfully yours." He shook his head in response.

"No. I never was much of a gun person. You keep them."

"OK," she said, taking the Casull back from him. She replaced both guns in the holster before removing it and tossing it and the firearms on the tabletop. "So, what has happened to you since we last saw each other? It's been what? 800? 900 years?"

"Something like that..."

"Doesn't really seem that long... immortal minds playing tricks on us, aye?"

He simply nodded.

"Still not much of a talker," she complained. "Well, to bad: spill. Something interesting must have happened in the last bloody millennium."

He shook his head, "Nothing new. Everything just repeats itself. Same old story. The characters just have different names." He paused a moment. "There was one... About twenty years ago. A vampire ran off with a young girl... Meijer Link and Charlotte. They were different. He refused to change her..."

"How did that turn out?" she asked, leaning back on her hands, crossing her legs.

D put his hand over his face, squeezing at his temples. "She was killed... It was one of the more confounding jobs I've taken on... Do you remember the Marcus Clan from years back?"

"Yeah. They were a rather crude lot if I remember. Effective though."

"They were hired on the job as well... Couldn't decide if they were hunting Link or me... And Link had hired some of the Barborois FREAKS as well... It was a mess too say the least... Meijer was taking the girl to that space port at Castle Chaiff... They went to meet the vampire Carmilla--"

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Seras started. "Carmilla is dead. She's been dead for centuries!"

"A haunting," he replied. "It was a trap for the two. Carmilla's spirit lured them there to try to resurrect herself... The Barborois and the Marcuses pretty much killed each other--and Carmilla took out the rest. In the end, the only ones left alive were myself, Link, and the Marcus sister, Leila."

"What happened to Meijer Link?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I didn't kill him, though I think he wished I would have. Judging by how he acted when we parted ways I believe he's probably in the same mind trap that my Father is in."

Seras nodded, studying the floor for a few seconds. "I've had a few of those too. I wandered on a vampiress about two centuries ago. It was a slightly different situation than most. I guess she had adopted and raised a human boy as her son. When the boy was about seven, a group of hunters came through and attempted to kill her--you know, back when the capital offered rewards for vampire kills whether you were hired or not... Anyway, they failed to kill her, but in the process they killed the boy. She snapped and slaughtered the lot of them. She had locked herself up in her castle for about fifty years when I came upon her. Name was Miriam, I think... Kept talking about the boy as if nothing had happened, as if he was just outside somewhere and would be back at any minute," she continued to study the floor. "It was really sad," she whispered in a soft voice.

They were both quiet for a long time after that, each lost in their own thoughts and avoiding eye contact. Anything to do with the mania of the No Life King was always a bit of a touchy subject for either of them, and now they both sat trying to figure out how they became so engrossed in the subject.

Finally, D broke the silence. "Why do you still call him 'master'? You were freed before I was born."

She gave him a lopsided grin, breaking out of the melancholy of the room. "Habit, I guess... It just feels weird trying to call him 'Alucard,' or anything else for that matter. It would be like you referring to your mum as 'Integra.' Besides, no matter what happens, he's always going to be my Master, just like he's always going to be your father." She grinned to herself, remembering some of her Master's antics from when the stoic hunter across from her was still an infant.

"Hey, wait a minute!" she barked, a thought crossing her mind. "What happened with Carmilla? You said she was a spirit--what the hell happened to her? Did you just leave her haunting the place?"

D raised his left forearm, his elbow resting on the table. "She's in here."

Seras blinked rapidly for a second. "Wait a minute... Are you saying you ate her? Like my Master..."

"No hellhounds were involved. The parasite pulled her spirit into the void. I have a few others that we've collected over the years in there as well. I don't know if I can release and control them the way my father can. I have had neither the want nor the need to find out. What about you? Any hellhounds of your own?"

She shook her head, "I never went down the familiar track. I've picked up all the shadow tricks though." She reached above her head and stretched her back. "So, Damien--"

"Please, Seras," he interrupted her, wincing at his name. "I've told you, just call me 'D'."

She stared at him in annoyance, forgetting what she was about to say. "And I've told you, way back when you started using that name that you would always be 'Damien' to me. I practically raised you myself--you were 'Damien' then and you're 'Damien' now as far as I'm concerned. Remind me again, why you still insist on this nonsense..."

D was silent as she stared at him, fully expecting an answer. With anyone else he would have ignored the question. Under normal circumstances he didn't owe anyone any answers. But this was vastly different. He closed his eyes thinking of the best way to phrase his answer. "Damien Hellsing died with the fall of the Hellsing organization. I abandoned that name after I watched my mother die before my eyes and was nearly forced to kill my own father because of it. When I chose to carry on the extermination of the FREAKS on my own I left that boy behind--I am not fit 'to tame' anything... Besides, what right does a dhampir have to carry that name?" He kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke, only looking up when he heard her snort.

"OK, now you're just being stupid," she glared at him with annoyance. "'What right does a dhampir have to carry that name'? A dhampir who just happens to be the best bloody vampire hunter on the whole bloody planet?"

"You know what I mean," he whispered darkly.

"So your father was a vampire. Big deal. Going by the words you just said your own great-grandfather--the bloody founder of the organization--wasn't fit to hold the name 'Hellsing.' He kept my Master as a bloody pet for God's sake..." she fumed for a second, huffing needless breath in her anger. "The bottom line is, no matter what your ancestry is, you get the damn job done just as effectively--if not more so--than your predecessors." She huffed again, crossing her arms as she boiled inside. His constant self-hate had been one of the things that had finally caused them to separate in their travels long ago.

"I'm afraid of loosing control," he whispered, head still bowed. "It doesn't matter how good a hunter I am if I become what I hunt." He swallowed, still looking at the floor. "It isn't as bad as it used to be... but it's always there--just under the surface..."

She sighed. "How often do you actually feed? I know there isn't exactly a stock pile of medical blood around, but you still need to drink."

"I don't. You already know that. I just use the vitamin capsules. They've always sustained me well enough..."

She glared and leaned forward, "I know you don't want to hear this, but you need to drink blood of some kind if you don't want to go berserk. You're old enough that you should be able to handle 'the little drink' and not kill anyone..."

He shook his head, "I will not become what we've been hunting all of this time..."

She stood from the bed, taking a step toward him so that she stood between his legs. She placed her hands on his face and tilted it up. "You can't go that long starving yourself without slipping up. How long has it been?"

The image of a girl flashed in the back of his mind, her blonde tresses woven into braids on either side of her neck, the wide blue eyes that had reminded him so much of the woman standing before him now shining with determination.

"120 years," he whispered. "In a town called Ransylva... over in one of the last remaining Asian sectors..."

She closed her eyes, knitting her brows. "You can't keep doing this to yourself..." She whispered, her thumbs stroking lightly against his cheek bones.

"Like you said, there aren't exactly stockpiles of medical blood around..."

"Then tonight you'll drink from me," she said sternly, although the emotion in her voice prevented it from being harsh.

"Seras--"

"I fed you as a baby," she snapped. "And if you won't take care of yourself now, then I'll force feed you here!"

A small smile crossed his lips and he placed his hand against hers.

"Seras..." he reached out with his other hand to cup her cheek. "You don't have to--"

"But I'm going to," she cut him off, her eyes snapping open.

Oh--he knew that look.

The sapphire of her eyes had changed to a bright ruby-red: a vampire in the beginning throws of bloodlust. And here he thought this was just going to be an innocent meeting between old friends...

Her light touch on his face had become firm, her nails biting into his scalp ever so slightly. Her lips were on his in a split second, her tongue insisting on entrance. The scent of blood found its way to his nostrils and his own bloodlust spiked. He opened to her and her tongue snaked into his mouth, along with the texture and taste of old vampiric blood. The thick liquid ran into his mouth from the multitude of bites she had inflicted on herself and he gave a soft moan as he was forced to swallow. His arms shot out and pulled her against him, causing her to loose her balance and lean into him. At some point his fangs had extended. He growled into her mouth as he pulled a second draught of blood from the wounds she was forcibly keeping open. She growled back to him, her hands moving to knot almost painfully in his hair.

It always seemed to happen this way. Blood and sex were so intertwined for vampires and their kin that it was nearly impossible to separate the two. After the fall of the Hellsing organization in the mid-twenty first century they had traveled together for centuries. Before that, the Hellsing vampires and himself were sustained by donated medical blood, however, afterwards once the wars broke out across the planet it was too hard to peaceably sustain themselves, and so they had fed on each other through the years to avoid attacking humans.

The first time had been about six years after they'd abandoned Hellsing. He had been starving himself, trying to survive on human food alone. Seras had no problem taking blood from the vampires and ghouls they were exterminating before they killed them--but he couldn't bring himself to do it--not after his upbringing.

He was in his early twenties when it happened. He and Seras were on the boarder of Scotland, clearing out a den of ghouls headed by a small coven of FREAKS, seven in total. He had taken gunfire in the fight, and had at least twenty bullet wounds in his stomach and chest that refused to close because of his body's starved state. Of the original seven FREAKS, Seras had taken out four on the lower levels and was clearing out the remaining ghouls. D had been on the higher level with the other three vampires. He had killed the one armed with the automatic weapon, sustaining the gunfire in the process.

He was cornered on that top floor, on his knees holding his arm around his bleeding midsection. He coughed thick blood onto the floor, his body too weak to lift the Casull in his right hand, the Jackal lost somewhere else in the room. The vampires sneared at him: the foolish bastard son of the Hellsing bitch. With horror and outrage he realized that one of the remaining two held the Jackal. They mocked him--a human trying to take the place of the legendary Alucard, unable to even lift the gun. They had no idea who or what he really was. The FREAK strode forward, pressing the Jackal to the top of his skull. He heard the gun cock.

It was the first time he had lost complete control--gone "berserk" as they called it. The weakness in his body subsided, his vampiric side taking over in a burst of adrenaline. He had slaughtered the two FREAKS--tore them limb from limb, rent their flesh and bathed the floor of that building with their blood, all before they could fire one more shot into his body.

Seras came upon him in that lost state, his face twisted, fangs bared, eyes glowing and covered bodily in the FREAKS' blood. He snarled and turned toward her slowly when she gasped his name, the decapitated head of one of the vampires still dangling by the hair from his fingers. He was on her in a second, pushing her through he doorway and against the wall behind her, his fangs ripping into her neck, forcibly taking her blood. She had screamed his name, but he was already gone. She was physically stronger than him back then, despite the fact that he towered over her by at least half a foot. She pried his hands from her body and reversed their positions, pinning him against the wall even as he drained her.

They had just been lucky she was a true nospheratu. One of the Millennium remnants probably would not have survived, but a true vampire could not actually bleed to death. She held him in place, allowing him to drink from her until his mind returned to him.

When he became himself once more he had fallen at her feet and wept. She had knelt and held him, whispering that it was alright and that he didn't hurt her--couldn't hurt her. Nothing helped though. Something died in him that day--a fragment of his humanity.

After that, Seras began forcing him to drink from her at least once a week--feeling the hypocrite considering her own early aversion to drinking blood--to avoid him having another berserker moment. It was a difficult task on Seras' part, considering his aversion to his vampiric roots. His willpower was amazing. It was one of the things that made him such a good hunter: his father's strength and his mother's conviction. However, it was also that combination that caused him to be so manic.

The first time they slept together was an accident. It happened about three months after the Scotland incident during one of the "routine" feedings. Neither quite knew how or why it happened. Bottom line was, that night they had transcended the line of friendship and plutonic family to something more akin to lovers. The "feeding" issue became moot. Every time they had sex there was blood--they went hand in hand, one always following the other, it was just the toss up of which came first...

This time, it was blood.

[Edited for content. Full version can be found at Mediaminer.org, Adultfanfiction.com and Ficwad.com under The Prophet Talia, Talia of Eragon or variations of the two.]

Her nails broke the skin of his shoulders and he dropped on her, his fangs piercing her throat again. As he drew from her their bodies stilled--and he felt her teeth at his neck again.

And then there was bliss--the warm dizzying completion brought on by a blood circuit when two vampires fed from each other simultaneously. It felt as though they were one being, their bodies seeming to flow into each other, false warmth cocooning them. They purred to each other--images from their memories flowing between them on their blood.

He always saw the same thing--Seras with a young man--sandy hair in a braid wrapped around his neck, a patch covering his left eye--out on the training grounds of the old Hellsing HQ. She saw images of a beautiful young girl--a vampire victim--her long golden hair plated and falling along her neck, a blue scarf covering the vampires' mark.

D abruptly broke the circuit, feeling more memories of the girl come to the surface and not wanting Seras to see any more. She released his neck as he pushed himself up on his elbows. her soft hand touched the side of his face and he turned slightly to kiss her palm before looking at her. Her eyes had returned to their normal sapphire hue as she gazed back at him, so many emotions behind the look that he could not pinpoint even one.

She stirred beneath him and he lifted his weight to allow her to move. She pushed herself higher on the bed until her back rested against the sparse pillows.

"Damien--" she whispered, reaching out to him, her voice full. He moved toward her, and when she was in reach she let her hands tangle in his hair again, bidding him to lie beside her and rest his head against the swell of her breast. He obliged, moving his arm under her back to cup her opposite hip. His other hand rested on her stomach, his thumb lazily stroking the soft skin. She stroked his long hair, the other hand resting lightly on the arm covering her midsection. She gazed out the room's little window as they lay intertwined.

For the first time in a very long time D felt contented. It was only with her that he could let his vampiric side out without guilt. It was only with her that he wasn't ashamed of who he was. She knew him--she knew his past, and she understood him, better than anyone else in the world could ever hope to. It was only with her that he could let go of being the vampire hunter "D" and simply allow himself to just be a man--to be Damien Hellsing, even if it was only for a short time.

"Who was the girl?" she asked softly.

He closed his eyes, waiting a few seconds to answer. "Her name was Doris Lang. She was a client..."

She continued to stroke his hair. "Only a client?"

Again he paused. "Only a client..."

She shook her head. "You loved her," she whispered. "I could feel it from your memory of her."

He tensed in her arms slightly.

"She was your slip up in Ransylva, wasn't she?" He said nothing. It was answer enough. "Did you love her?"

"I was fond of her... I only knew her for a week. Long enough to exterminate her vampire."

"Why didn't you stay with her?"

"Why do you feel the need to ask me questions you already know the answers to?" he growled into her breast.

She smiled to herself. He had never liked conversation much. It was like some cosmic irony that he had been paired with a blabbermouth like her for so long. In any case, it sounded as though he was about ready to return to silent mode.

"So, you were attracted to her, and somewhere along the line you fed from her and slept with her--yes?" He didn't answer her, but she felt him grinding his teeth. "And then, you ran because you were afraid of your vampiric side."

He was silent for a long time, still grinding his teeth in mild anger at her nosiness and frustration at her accuracy. "It wasn't just that..." he whispered. "I didn't want to watch her die. I wouldn't have been able to let her go..."

Again, they were silent. D thought about the differences between himself and the woman in his arms. She was an anomaly among vampires--both true vampires and the descendents of the Millennium FREAKS. Even after more than 10,000 years she still bore her humanity. In ways she was more human than some of the humans of the current day.

"I wonder if my father realized how well you would take to immortality when he made you..." he whispered. "I think you're actually better suited than he is..."

"How do you mean?" she asked innocently.

He looked up at her, touching her face with his free hand. "They way you've always interacted with humans--living through the ages without the loss eating at your sanity. All the others--even myself--become detached or go mad. But you haven't changed at all since then--have you?"

She laughed. "Well, I guess I never let go of the human in me. Maybe it's because I had so much loss when I was human and still a young vampire. I have just become accustomed to dealing with loss like a mortal. Oh hell, I don't know!" She felt him smile against her skin as his hand trailed down her jaw line to rest on the swell of her breast.

"Listen, Damien," she said. "I wasn't going anywhere in particular--I just happened upon you tonight. Would you like me to travel with you for a while? For old time's sake?"

"Do what you want, Seras. If you want to come with me I won't stop you."

"All right then," she said, abruptly rolling him over before straddling his hips--the action bringing his loins to life again. "For the time being we're a team again." She straightened above him, her goofy grin disappearing to form a serious face. "In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation!"

He laughed. He actually laughed--it was just so random and nostalgic that he couldn't help it.

"Amen," he replied, the smallest of smiles still playing at the corners of his mouth.

She grinned down at him again, one fang poking over her bottom lip. "Amen."



Disclaimer: Vampire Hunter D, (c) Hideyuki Kikuchi, Hellsing (c) Kouto Hirano. I own nothing and am making no money from this...