Sometimes, the smallest of changes bring forth the greatest differences in history.
And while Andrew Wells was unaware of it, he had just caused one such difference.
On the normal timeline, the Sunnydale native had spent the night roleplaying with some friends. However, this time around, he had been volunteered by the principal Snyder to join the "volunteer" safety program. It had just been a mater of timing, really, should he have passed through the main hallway thirty seconds later, he wouldn't have crashed onto the janitor, nor had kicked said janitor's bucket directly onto principal Snyder's new shoes and thus wouldn't have compelled the principal to add an extra name to the list.But such is life.
Being unable to partake on the night's campaign, he had decided, in his relative wisdom, to bring his favorite character to the real world.
After all, if he could not go roleplaying, then roleplaying would go to him, to him and to his party of dwarfhalflingwhatever. And fate was already feeling sorry for the psychological scarring those poor kids were about to suffer.
For tonight the Arch Mage Raderosh would walk the streets of Sunnydale, he proclaimed on the door of Ethan's shop, scaring some of the nearby pedestrians, before hurrying up towards his home, he still needed to finish the preparations and 'time was of the essence'.
Hell came onto Sunnydale as scheduled. Perhaps not hell, perhaps it wasn't even close to what some of the tamer hell dimensions could offer, but the amount of chaos that Ethan Rayne's spell brought onto the small town was no small potato.
After all, while not known by all, it almost brought upon an Armageddon. Not an unusual feature in Sunnydale, to the point some of the locals were proposing a plural for of the word, but it had been an unexpected event.
It almost brought back the old fight between chaos and order as the main attraction.
Or at least it would have, if Janus wouldn't have had plans for the power he had earned that very night.
After all if that conflict returned to the searchlight, well, his being in the sidelines, his hard earned holidays and that of the other manifestations of chaos all over would be over. And the rest of the gang would not take it well.
The Costumes the British chaos mage had handled were quick to possess their unwary wearers, becoming them all a source of power to Janus. A power, amplified by the presence of the Hellmouth and the large number of mystical artifacts that it seemed to attract.
That was how Raderosh walked that night Sunnydale and how an old and quite bored chaos god begun his plan to 'spice things up'.
It all began to unfold as it was supposed to. The soldier found himself in a strange place that had just gone to the dogs.
However, due to the meddling of Janus and to Andrews, sorry, to Raderosh presence, Willow Rosenberg was half a mile away from Alexander Harris. Oh yes, she'd eventually met with the medievalized version of Buffy Ann Summers, and somehow helped her to safety. At least for a while, but that's a different story.
Now, due to Janus meddling, she would not met up with the possessed form of her childhood friend, but the possessed form of Andrew would.
And so Janus placed the metaphysical popcorn in his equally metaphysical microwave oven. The good part was coming up, and he wasn't going to miss it.
The soldier tried to keep on top of the situation, after all he had been trained for, well definitely not for something like this, but he was willing to try; too many lives were at stake.
True, he was cut off from the rest of his unit, and was equipped only with his M-16, a combat knife and perhaps four extra clips for his rifle.
He had to try to keep the rest of the civilians alive, no matter the cost, but he knew from the go that whatever it was it was bound to be high.
He had no idea how right he was
Luckily while most of his targets seemed to be immune to the effects of his weapon, they failed to remain dead, it seemed that both the pain that it inflicted and the sound his trusted M-16 caused was more than enough to at least dissuade them.
But then it appeared.
It was a monstrosity, even amongst monsters. It looked like a construct of flesh with no skin that seemed to simply absorb the bullets with no outward sign of damage or even discomfort.
It didn't changed things for the soldier, he keep shooting it to no avail, all while trying to circle it, not only to avoid getting within reach of the thing's powerful arms but in the faint hope of finding a weak spot. He knew it was hopeless and that he was as good as dead, but his actions were also earning the kids the time to make their escape.
It was then when Raderosh made his move.
The old, some would say half senile, mage wasn't too sure what was going on and therefore he had kept from intervening, after all the ranger? Seemed to have things under control. Oh yes, he had helped dissuade the demi-humans and all those strange little creatures with some secondary magics, like imprinting irrational fear and the such, the moment he noticed the ranger's weapon seemed to have little effect on the more magical of attackers. But the construct was not going to be taken down by such a cheap trick, and he knew it.
After all it was rather incapable of fear. It had being designed to be very resilient to magic as well, and there was the problem.
The best way to deal with such creatures was to simply banish them, however normal banishments wouldn't work on it.
But there was a spell that could do the trick.
If you have one option, you have one choice, regardless of the risks.
Perhaps it was the Hellmouth that twisted the spell that way, such phenomena did have some type of effect in banishment magic due to its dimensional reach.
But there was a far larger force at play that night, Janus.
Undoubtedly he was responsible, the true question was whatever he was directly or indirectly responsible. A rather normal issue when dealing with entities of chaos, as they tend to insist it is far better to cause a twenty-stage chain reaction rather than forcing change in the key event.
Go figure
So, exactly how Raderosh's Multipurpose Banishment Spell (patent pending) had behaved so erratically, or so not how it was supposed to, was beyond the old mage.
What he did know was that one moment everything went bright, and by the time he was able to see again, only the blackened spot in the lawn of some unlucky Sunnydale resident remained, where both the ranger and the construct had been standing.
Ripper was pissed off, he was more than tempted to twist Ethan's neck in an unnatural angle. But he had to make sure that he had told him the truth first.
The good for nothing chaos mage had always been a pain in the ass, but this, this exceeded his usual level of stupidity.
This time, however, Ethan was going to pay for his antics.
Though it would have to wait just a little longer.
In a way he had been disappointed, the British chaos mage had broken in too soon. Not that it really surprised him, Ethan had always lacked a bit of a backbone, but it was still a disappointment.
Still, there was nothing stopping him from demonstrating his uh. discomfort with Rayne's career of choice once the spell and Janus statue were properly dealt with.
He carefully lifted the statue before he threw it towards the floor with all his strength. As expected, Janus' bust fragmented into so many pieces and the spell was no more.
Now was the turn to do the same to his old mate, it wasn't that he condoned violence, no, he had changed considerably since his Eyghon days.
It was the fact that Ethan Rayne was far too dangerous to be left to his own devices.
Regretfully, instead of finding the battered form of his old colleague, he only found a small note.
A promise, a warning, or just a taste of the chaos mage odd sense of humor, just the words 'be seeing you' etched on a piece of paper. Almost immediately the note met what should have been Ethan's fate.
He was getting too old for this, and he was in need of a very strong drink.
He was in a forest, it was dark, not that far from sunrise he estimated by the moon's position and it was cold enough to watch his breath condensate in front of him.
The last thing Xander remembered was the bright light.
Xander. no that was.
His free hand went instinctively towards his head, as he reacted toward the acute pain there. It hurt, and it didn't help his confusion in the least. He almost lost his footing, as he felt the two sets of memories, personalities, and experiences fight for dominance.
Perhaps he was Xander Harris; perhaps he was. what was the other name? Why things had to be so. complicated?
What he was sure of was that he was not in Sunnydale; the stars were not right enough, even if he wasn't too sure how he knew that, and the weather, well.. His army fatigues were not suited for them, at least not by themselves.
It was cold, definitely not California cold, more like snow cold, or at least cold enough to see his own breath condensate.
Yes... those were safe thoughts, no doubt, no problem, just as long as he kept his mind to those safe. but for some reason it stopped working and he felt the pain return in force. It was too strange and too surreal, even by his standards.
Of course, it stopped mattering the moment the FREAK broke onto the same clearing. Shoulder length red hair, wearing a tight fitting shirt, a leather skirt and high-heeled boots. She looked out of place in the forest. Well, she was not there by choice.
The man made (actually Millennium made, but that is just being nitpicky) abomination had not felt the human, as she was a bit more preoccupied with the thing that had been sent after her. It had teared through her colleagues and their ghouls with a remarkable ease.
Now it was closing onto her. She knew she could not beat it, not then and definitely not now. But it had been then when she felt the human, a human all alone in the forest, and she wasn't one to look at gift horses in the mouth.
After all, a hostage is a hostage.
The moment Xander saw her, he knew. He didn't know it was a FREAK or that it was a vampire even. But he knew an enemy when he saw one and with that realization the pain in his mind was no more.
He lost no time to begin firing at the FREAK.
She moved fast, faster than humanly possible, in spite of the hailstorm of bullets tearing through her flesh.
By the time the Vamp had reached Xander, he had time to fire less than ten rounds to little more effect than infuriating the woman, thing, whatever.
With remarkable ease she backhanded the still firing rifle out of his hands. She did not give him time to react, her hands found their place on his shoulders and her bared fangs approached his neck.
Time seemed to slow down; it was certainly running out for him. But before the fangs reached him, his left hand had freed his combat knife from its sheath and in a swift movement he slashed the creature's belly diagonally.
That probably saved his neck, but on the other hand it really angered the FREAK. With lightning speed she withdrew both arms from their places and delivered a couple of devastating open palm strike on Xander and finished up with a roundhouse kick against his right shoulder, which send him sprawling to the ground.
Xander was in a world of hurt by then. He was sure he had a few cracked ribs and his shoulder was killing him.
From his position on the ground, he saw the vampiress moving slowly towards him, almost as if gloating about her superiority.
His body ached and a burning pain flared up on his chest each time he breathed,
He was going to loose and die, if he didn't thought something and fast.
Shakily he reincorporated himself. He was in bad shape and his life expectancy was dropping faster than Wall Street brokers on the black Friday.
"Come on, human, you know you cannot win; you are almost dead on your feet. So why make it more of a problem for me? No harm will come to you, that I promise"
The truth was that he didn't needed to kill her, when she busted onto the clearing she wasn't charging towards him, not to mention that her choice clothes weren't ideally suited for a jog across some forest.
That meant she was being hunt.
That meant hunters in the forest.
So he had to hold out long enough till her pursuers showed up, hopefully soon enough.
Of course, the implicit issue was, if he really wanted to meet what had the vampiress running for her unlife.
He could be very well jumping from the pan to the fire.
It wasn't as if he had a choice on that regard.
Without any heroic or smart mouthed remarks he threw his combat knife against the Vampiress.
The knife found its mark in the FREAK's left eye. She screamed from the pain the wound had caused and staggered backwards.
That was his mark. He began moving towards the rifle as fast as he could, somehow disregarding the pain.
It felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than fifteen seconds and what he had done to himself, he was going to feel it in the morning and for quite a few mornings, if he managed to survive.
Bottom line, he had the rifle, but he had little to show for it, as the monster was already moving towards him, his bloodied knife in her right hand; although this time she was moving fast but within human standards.
Apparently she had been worst off than he'd thought. Perhaps he did stand a chance after all.
The first time around, he had just targeted the chest area, what a soldier is taught to shoot. That had little noticeable effect and with the whole gonna bite your neck act she had to be a vamp.
A change of tactics was at hands
He shouldered the gun and began firing, proving that he was ambidextrous or that desperation is the greatest of teachers, as most of his round found their mark on her right shoulder.
It was a close call, but the force of the bullets made the freak drop the knife and not only stop her charge, but made her stagger backwards.
Then something bad happened:
<CLICK>
He ran out of ammo.
The vampiress grinned predatorily and after picking up the knife with her good hand, she resumed the charge.
She was to close to him to give him the time to reload the gun and was faster than he was; fleeing was not an option.
Xander went for dodging while trying to reload the rifle. Hoping against hope to buy time, he was going to try baiting and sidestepping her, at least as long as his body could manage.
To his credit, the theory was good and it worked, once, then the vampiress spun around too close to him not giving him time to react or adapt.
He watched in shock as he was stabbed in the gut.
The pain was rather unique; it was very different from the burning sensation in his chest when he tried to breath or the numbing pain in his shoulder.
This one was acute, sharp, far worse than anything he had felt. He doubled in pain, his eyes widened and he mouthed a silent scream.
Then, she twisted the blade.
The pain was almost too much, he nearly blacked out from it. What's worse, the pain made him drop the gun. His last hope was now lying on the grass, just out of reach.
His body was trembling from the pain and he was forced to spit a mouthful of his own blood and bile.
"Aw. I think I broke the little man"
His left hand, now free, went for the things throat. Rage feed his intentions and blocked the pain, his hand found a grip around the vamp's neck and while he tried to straighten himself up he tried to sink his thumb into her trachea.
"You are not broken enough, eh, boy?" she almost sounded amused by his actions, then a vicious smile filled her face, "Don't worry, we'll fix that soon enough" she said winking her good eye.
He felt the knife leave his gut. Out of reflex his right hand went for the wound, keeping pressure on it.
The woman then raised the knife to her mouth and licked the blood on the edge, before raising it above her head, aiming downward, ready to stab him once again.
Time seemed to stop, again.
Xander was mesmerized by the blade's reflection of the pale moon glow on its edge.
That was it, game over.
There was a sudden discharge and next thing he felt he had been thrown backwards as the woman in from of him was nearly torn in two before it collapsed onto dust.
Xander fell rather unceremoniously onto his back, his hand still tightly clutched onto the wound.
He could clearly se the bloodstain now, his hand was already drenched in red, and the dark stain on the costume was growing by the moment.
Suddenly he felt very cold and very scared.
He was fighting an uphill battle to keep himself conscious, alive. He wasn't winning.
That was when he saw his savior??
Out of the foliage came running a woman, a rather petite strawberry blond wearing a strange and tight fitting blue clothes, an uniform, his mind had temptatively added.
The girl seemed to carry slung on her back a, well he wasn't sure exactly what type of weapon it was but it would have been more in place on a vehicle.
Sure something wasn't right and if he wouldn't have been holding his guts he'd probably had figured it out too.
"About time." he half muttered
"Oh, damn." she seemed to stop a few feet from him, frozen? Her mouth agape. uh. she had red eyes? He hadn't lost all that much blood to.
Whatever had frozen her in place, the woman seemed to have fought it off and gave the few steps separating them before crouching by his side.
Seras knelt by the boy, the smell of blood was almost too much, it had almost overwhelmed her before, and with reason, the boy was very messed up, but she was going to keep it in check.
The wound was a bad one, Seras knew for sure, and well beyond her medkit ability to handle.
Somehow the boy was still conscious, gritting his teeth and eying her suspiciously.
"It. it's ok. everything will be fine"
The boy merely shook his head and gave her a sad smile.
She knew he was beyond help, and so did he. It was her fault, if only master would have chase after that FREAK.
It was her fault.
Perhaps it is, policewoman, but he isn't as beyond help as you seem to think.
"Master?"
From Xander's perspective the things took another turn for the bizarre as the woman begun talking to the air. Or perhaps he was hallucinating, while he wasn't sure blood loss could cause that he was rather new to this deathbed thing.
"But. but.. I.yes, master"
She turned to him; there was a sad look on those very not so human red eyes of hers,
"I can save you. but" were those fangs she had? "but there is a price"
".Vampire? No. can't be, no ridges, no yellow eyes."
"Gack?!" she seemed to choke on his words "you-you think I am one of those" she almost seemed to shudder "demons?"
Heh, yes, do you believe that draculina here is one of those pitiful demonic knocks offs? Was that a voice in his mind? Man he was really messed up, wasn't he?
But, she had asked, why would she? Vamps just took. right? But she had also saved him from that.
A part of him, a big one, was appalled by the suggestion but another part, equally big, the part of him that feared death and that was painfully aware of how close he was to death, knew it was the only way to survive. and she had called the Aurelians demons.
.She had been offended, almost.
.Cold.
.So cold.
"W-why should I believe you?"
"I-I don't know," she said, there was something on her face sadness? Regret? "it is your choice, yours alone"
For a full minute, both sides of his psyche battled for dominance, as his pulse slowed and the cold become more and more intense and unconsciousness seemed to feel more and more like an alluring, comfortable blanket.
He looked up at the girl and sighted. He had made his choice.
In the end his fear of death won out.
Integral Wingates Hellsing was different things to different people. To some she was a royal knight and the Knight Commander of the Royal Protestant Knights of Hellsing, to others, mainly her subordinates, she was simply the Iron maiden of the Hellsing institution, but to a particular one she was simply master.
It was that particular one, that was the source of her most recent headache.
Then again, the last few days had been all a big headache. Ever since the Valentine brothers decided to pay them a visit, things had not been easy for the institution.
Never in its history they had faced anything like it.
She had lost nearly all of the institution's personnel that night. But no one had ever expected a coordinated use of ghouls, especially not in that fashion, well not since her grandfather's time.
The institution's combat readiness was at an all time low, and they simply did not have time. She needed veteran troops ready, retrained and working as a team by yesterday.
The Valentine brothers had been the tip of the iceberg, a decapitation strike to cripple England, military use of ghouls, inside information.
And now, since it had failed, no, it was not a good prospect and it was vital to put pressure onto them, or risk being overwhelmed, but to do so she needed personnel.
But that wasn't the problem at hand.
The problem was Alucard, Hellsing's 'one-man trash disposal unit', and the only thing that was keeping Hellsing on active status. Well, he and Seras and quite frankly this one situation was as much her responsibility as his.
It had been a simple search and destroy mission in a little town in the new forest. Oh yes, he had fulfilled the mission parameters but.
"Alucard, I distinctly seem to recall telling you not to make a habit out of it"
"My Master?"
"Don't feign ignorance, it doesn't suit you"
"I did nothing of the like, master"
"Of course you did not, not directly at least, do you expect me to believe that Seras did it out of her own volition?"
"Well, you did order me to properly train her, master"
"Alucard" Integral said in a growl.
"Heh. don't tell me, my master, that you aren't at least curious how an American boy, in an American army uniform and weapons ended up in British soil." It was a loaded question, very typical of the vampire.
No, curiosity was not Alucard's motivation, at least not solely. It still made her wonder what were his other reasons, especially if he was willing to reveal it so easily, but that would have to wait a little while, at least till Walter arrived with the boy's data.
Of course, at the time there was a far more pressing matter, that'd be showing his servant how to behave or at least to address her. While the chances of succeeding in the task were minuscule to say the least, that same task did wonders for her stress.
Integral had been in a foul mood when she opted to retire to the library.
The current situation had been bad enough, she, the institution, didn't need Alucard adding fuel to the already burning wreckage.
The worst part was, that there was precious little she could do to keep the vampire in check. Not that it was easy to begin with. That was probably why her father had kept him bound in the dungeons for the larger part of his administration.
Oh, yes, the seals bound him to her will, and limited his power as she saw fit. But with the current situation, she could not afford to take him from the active rooster, the closest thing to an effective punishment.
Sergeant Victoria was far from being ready and, as for the more conventional forces, well they were virtually non existent. Only ten, ten out of a hundred, had survived and only because they had not being in the grounds when the attack happened.
Alucard was the only thing keeping Hellsing operating.
Of course, that was what she was doing there, looking for alternatives, trying to keep Hellsing afloat, and be more than ready for the next attack. That and trying to figure out what to do with Mr. Harris.
Walter had provided her the boy's file shortly after lunch; it still amazed her the ability of her retainer to cut through the red tape.
Then again, Walter was like that, unique. He had been a member of the organization from a young age; he had been in fact the youngest commissioned agent, and had grown up to become one of the finest and most efficient agents the institution ever had.
The file had been a mixture of school, hospital and police records, and the interrogation Mr. Harris had been subjected to after his had arrival to the mansion the night before. They were more than interesting, especially a follow-up report, that had placed a watcher within the school staff.
The file had been, interesting to say the least. It certainly had not dispelled the boy's claims, what was more, it had made perfectly obvious that something beyond strange was going on within that town.
This situation was only going to make her headache worse, though there was plenty of reasons for that already.
About ten months ago, the US had approached Hellsing and several similar institutions for aid in expanding their paranormal units.
In the US, the paranormal threat had been dealt by the private sector; the so called Society of the Hunt, who centered their activities in the east coast, where the historical center for the paranormal activity had been located.
But since a few years ago, the effectiveness of the organization had begun to slip. Too many cases, high attrition rates, lower quality of recruits. There were other rumors circulating, rather harmful, that spoke of serious problems within the society and they were probably true, as the US government had decided to take matters onto their own hands, rather than transforming the SoH into a federal agency.
It had been shortly after that, that their department of state had issued the requests to the more successful organizations.
Integral had been considering the request, but in the aftermath of the Valentine disaster the issue had become academical.
But if the Mr. Harris' claims of an active Hellmouth held water, and so far they did, the request couldn't be ignored.
Damned watchers, had they expected to keep an active Hellmouth secret?
She had never liked that organization much; historically, there had been disagreements between the council and the organization as far back as during her great grandfather's time, during the early years of Hellsing, so it was hardly news.
'But this, this is idiocy; they were putting them all in the line, and for what?'
It was true that most of the older organizations had poor histories of collaboration, and some had outright hostility with one another, or in the case of the Iscariots with just about everyone else. But this was an active Hellmouth and the success rate of the Watcher's Council and their chosen one left a lot to be desired.
Hopefully they had at least informed the local authorities, she wanted to think that that was the reason for the request, rather than the SoH loss of performance. But with no proper evidence she knew better, the watchers priced their secrecy and impunity to operate, specially since their chief weapon happened to be an underage girl, and no country liked for foreign organizations to operate on their soil without their authorization or to use their citizens as tools.
She still wanted to have a face to face with the boy, hear it from his lips, to be certain.
It was an all too serious matter, grim almost, especially if her hunch about Millennium happened to be accurate.
When Xander arrived to the mansion, he had been placed in a secure room, given some clean clothes and was questioned to death.
So yeah, he had no way to explain how the hell he had ended up in the land of tweed, asides from the usual "Hellmouthy" clause, but that did not work well with the people here.
Of course they had explained him who they were and what they did, actually that butler, uh. Walter, had. He even gave him a heads up about his new condition. He had never used actual silverware in his life, except that one time at Wills place, but he certainly wasn't going to ever again.
But, for the most time, they had left him alone, to let him get used to his new condition, at least that was what he though.
Actually, there had been a bit of a surprise on that matter, he was not happy or comfortable with it, even if it had only been a few hours since it happened, but he wasn't feeling miserable or broody bout it either.
At least so far, but truth was, he had been concerned by other things; he was after all as curious as these peoples were in how he had ended up here, but he also was concerned of what had happened before, that is to be said the possession and the Halloween madness.
He had felt as a caged tiger, he wanted to know what had happened and more importantly, if his friends were ok.
Hmmm. it was probably the shock of too many things happening too soon, once his mind properly rebooted, well he made no guarantees, except he was not going to become a cheap copy of Brood boy.
And then Walter had come in and took him to Sir Hellsing's office.
Sir Hellsing wanted to speak to him.
The office was impressive, more so with the setting sun behind Sir Integral's desk, it gave a certain atmosphere of power.
But not more so than the platinum blonde woman sitting behind the large mahogany desk
"Mr. Harris, please take a seat" It was not a request; the woman didn't play games and didn't fool around, he had been told as much. So he did the sane thing and quickly complied.
"You have placed my organization in a delicate situation, you are not only a minor, but a foreign citizen"
Suddenly Xander begun getting more and more nervous, the tone and the implications were not good.
"You-you are not going to kill me, aren't you?"
"No, I don't make a habit of killing my own agents, living or otherwise; at least not without a good reason. However, that is not the issue I wanted to discuss with you," and just like that he had been drafted.
"Uh?"
"The Hellmouth, mister Harris" she leaned forward, a predatory visage present on her face "that and your knowledge of the Aurelians, or rather how you acquired it" and suddenly he'd felt like he'd rather be having a one on one death match with Buffy. Seemed a safer alternative.
Meeting Sir Integral Hellsing, the current head of the Hellsing institution, was an experience Xander wasn't going to forget anytime soon.
Of course, the last few hours were going to be etched in his memory for, well, what years he had ahead of him.
If anything she had been very blunt and direct with him, he thought as he begun changing into his new uniform.
Sir Hellsing had unceremoniously drafted him into the Hellsing organization, not that he had much of a choice to begin with. He was in the land of tweed, except few people in the house seemed to wear it, and well, not sure how he had ended up there and with no cash to return.
That and he was temporally bound to Seras, that had been the name of the woman in the blue uniform, Seras Victoria.
"Sigh." he muttered to himself while he finished tying his boots "Some luck."
He looked up into the mirror while he begun buttoning the shirt. The reflection had been a welcomed surprise, and while he had seen Seras's red eyes and rather sharp fangs before hand, adapting to actually having them was a whole different matter. But all in all it had been the tongue the real surprise. It was long, it was pensile, it certainly was not human and it was way to easy to bite, specially if you had fangs.
But sir Hellsing's interest in all things Hellmouthy and indirectly in the Scoobs had left him out of balance.
She had been very interested; interested enough as to eventually send him back, hopefully.
She had agreed to contact Giles and to at least keep him apprised of the situation, but before that there were a few formalities that had to be fulfilled (her words), after all Hellsing was a classified organization and a state secret.
Also she had promised to check on his friends, make sure they were fine, but had warned him that it might take them till Monday to confirm anything, when school restarted and they could take a look onto the attendance records. Till then, the best they could do was to check if they had been admitted to a hospital, emergency room, arrested or taken to the morgue.
She had also been rather clear that the institution was in no shape to do much for them, at least for the time being, especially with the increased FREAK activity, unless of course it was something serious, as in end of the world serious.
So, with a bit of luck, that might mean more or less two weeks, perhaps a month.
He looked down at the gloves, pausing for a moment; he then proceeded to pocket them.
And then she began to talk of his future with Hellsing.
The institution did not had a policy for undead recruits, after all it had been the second time it had happened in the Institutions' hundred years of history, and the other case had happened just a few months before. Normally the best response for the situation would have been having him go missing, since he already technically had, doing nothing would had make the matter settle for itself. It was what Hellsing had done in the other case.
But his American citizenship could prove to be an asset, Hellsing could not operate in the US, at least not without a lot of formalities or going undercover, the first implied a long time of red tape and the second, well smuggling took time, and the risk for Hellsing, and the British crown, were very high, especially the diplomatic repercussions of getting caught.
He, on the other hand, could go as a private citizen and well, keep doing the Scooby gig, except with some proper training, equipment and well, racial abilities.
And since Hellsing was a part of the British government, the weapons and ammo could be brought into the country via diplomatic couriers and then he'd have to retrieve them from the British consulate in LA.
While low risk, it wouldn't work in a large scale, at least not without drawing suspicion towards the consulate, something that was best to avoid.
He was standing in front of the mirror, tiding up the uniform when Walter entered.
"Ah, mister Harris, I see that you have finished changing."
"Ah. yeah, Walter, thanks for the clothes" he sad pointing at the loaners the butler had given to replace the bloodied fatigues.
"It was not a problem"
"Uh. what is going to happen now, Walter?
"Actually that's why I was in here. Sergeant Victoria has volunteered to help you familiarize with the facilities."
Victoria. that name she had. oh "Seras"
"Quite correct, Mr. Harris" He said with a half smirk on his face "she is currently waiting outside, waiting for you"
Xander exited the room not too sure what he was going to find. Perhaps the full weight of the night's events was starting to be felt, but for the most part there was a strange sense of anxiety.
She was leaning against the wall, still clad in the same blue uniform that had seemed so out of place the night before and had a concerned look on her face.
Seras, for her part, had not escaped the night's events unscarred. Integral had not being very happy with the situation.
That had been probably an understatement, but in the end Alexander had become her responsibility, and Integra had been very clear about that, and what it implied.
Seeing Alexander entering the hallway she left her position on the wall and moved towards him.
"Alexander?"
"Uh, yeah, but I prefer Xander"
"Xander" she repeated, unsure
"Yeah, as in aleXander"
"Yes, I realized as much, but you have to admit it is kind of an odd form"
"So says Seras" he said grinning
"Heh, guess I am none to speak about that either, Xander"
"Guess s.-hey, what are you implying?"
"Just that you like being called Xander" she said smiling enigmatically
"Oh," he said eying Seras suspiciously "just checking"
"We better get going, we have a lot ground to cover and I rather not be late, Sir Integral is rather angry as it is"
"Late to where?"
"Your orientation course" and having said that she began to move.
The mansion was big, that was the one way to explain it, big and elegant.
It was composed of three wings, north, south and west, and was surrounded by a rather impressive fenced park.
With Seras as a guide, he was introduced to the more accessible areas of the mansion, mainly the troop area in the north wing.
The facilities were impressive, even if they were more or less abandoned. Throughout the tour he had only met two other persons and they both had been part of the repair crews.
"Seras, there was something I wanted to ask"
"Uh?"
"About, you know." he said tapping at his neck
"Oh, uh, truth is I am not an expert either, master is the one, but well, master is the master"
"Who?"
"Uh... well Alucard, uh, oh right, you haven't met him yet, well, he is the one that.."
"Oh" he rubbed his chin "uh, why you call him master?"
"Uh, well, it is because he is"
"Oh. uh. but."
"Yes?"
"Why I am not calling you master, then?"
"I." hey true, why wasn't he calling her master ".don't know.. Hmm. oh!" she said snapping her fingers
"Eh?"
"Well, I am still bound to master, so perhaps you are bound to him as well, rather than to me"
".Uh. that kinda makes sense, but."
"Yeah?"
"Uh. I don't have to call him master, right?"
"Dunno, why?"
"Cuz, well it would make people talk and they might get the wrong idea of things," he said, making a fake shudder.
"Perhaps you shouldn't have said that." Seras said seriously
"Why?"
"Well, master is known to have a bit of an odd sense of humor and."
"Uh, define odd?"
She just shot him a glance
"Oh," he suddenly felt like banging his head against a wall. He had an entirely too large mouth.
Giles had known something like that was bound to happen. The risks were always too high, especially for normal humans. And Xander, the kid had paid the price.
Although his fate was still unknown, the odds he was just missing were slim. That didn't happen, not on the Hellmouth.
He really should have tried to drive the kids away or to at least provide them with training, but he hadn't done that either; no, here was the responsible adult, entirely too scared of Ripper to even consider it.
No matter the angle he looked at it, now he had one more death on his consciousness. He really should have killed Ethan when he had the chance; he knew his old pal was a disaster waiting to happen.
But while Halloween had not been a disaster as terrible as he had feared, Buffy had been left very shaken by her friend's disappearance.
Willow wasn't in any better shape herself and that was making things worst for his slayer.
She was punishing herself for it, and it was beginning to affect her nocturnal activities.
He really didn't wanted to voice the implications of that, but he was going to have to do something about it, and soon.
And that was when somebody knocked at the door.
Opening it, he came face to face with a middle aged man in an impeccable gray suit, and an attaché case in one hand.
"Yes?"
"Mister Rupert Giles?" the man asked.
"Yes."
"My name is Arthur Torensen, I am with the British consulate in LA. May I come in?" he said producing the pertinent identification.
Giles made an invitation gesture, even though the sun was still high in the sky. Living in Sunnydale tended to take its toll on formality and hospitality, but it was better than the alternative.
"Why, thank you. I am sorry to bother you Mr. Giles, but I have some rather urgent matters to discuss with you."
"I don't under-"
"Well, I am afraid it is a rather complicated issue, Uh, I think it is best if we sit for this."
"Very well," he said motioning towards his apartment's lone table.
The British diplomat made its way to the table, and waited for Giles to take a seat before placing his attaché case on the table. He opened the case and preceded to extract a few documents and a pen, he then handed a paper to the watcher.
"Because the matters I must discuss with you are confidential, I must ask you to sign this non disclosure agreement."
"What?"
"Well, this is a matter of state, Mr. Giles but be certain that her royal majesty would not ask from her subjects more than they can give. Moreover, I am allowed to disclose that it is related to the events of the night of the 31st."
Giles nearly had a stroke and a heart attack.
It was rather obvious that they knew what had happened, on any case he was interested in what the man might say so after reading through the document he stamped his signature on it.
"Very well, now it just only need notification and. there," he said, after properly stapling and sealing the paper before returning it to his attaché case.
"Now, let me be clear, Mr. Giles." He said placing the signed agreement back onto his case "Her Majesty's government is aware of your affiliation with the Watcher's Council and, of course, what goes on in this little town at night."
"I. see."
"Actually you don't, at least not yet," he said handing over a folder to the watcher. "Two nights ago, on the early hours of the first, we came across something you lost, actually MI-12 did."
"MI-12?" he said, puzzled, while opening the folder.
"Why, yes. That was the part of the reason for the non-disclosure agreement, MI-12 is a secret of state, one whose disclosure to unauthorized persons carries a very harsh sentence," the diplomat took another look at the watcher "Mr. Giles, are you felling well?"
"How.?" he asked, pointing at the open folder. Within it there was a rather thorough file on Xander. There were a thousand questions in Rupert's mind and not for the first time, they all wanted to be answered first.
"Well I suppose, it could be best if I explained MI-12 first, to eliminate any possible misunderstanding" he said, giving the watcher yet another folder.
"MI-12, better known as Hellsing, is the royal institution tasked with the protection of the English soil from the undead threat. It had been so for the past hundred years."
"But. there hadn't been a vampire in England in the past."
"Well, I wouldn't say that. However we are very good at keeping things under wraps, don't you think, Mr. Giles?"
"I-I. yes, it seems so, " he said, while cleaning his glasses, "but how Xander."
"I am afraid we don't know all the details, but, what we do know is that your friend appeared in the path of an MI-12 operation, not far from Bransgore and got himself quite involved. What happened afterwards is, well, my reason for being here."
"Uh?"
"Are you familiar with the terminology 'no life king'?"
Rupert eyes widened. They were a very unique and rare form of undead, vampiric in nature and yet unrelated to the Aurelians. Sometimes called true nosferatu, especially by themselves, they did have an ego issue; they were, if anything, virulently hateful of the Aurelians. At least according to all reports he had come across.
"I am, but what does it have to do with Xander's."
"What you will not find in that report is that the MI-12 operatives sent to the New Forest were a No life King and his thrall. They did managed to neutralize the situation but, it was a little too late for young Mr. Harris."
"B-but the report says he is fine."
"It is a matter of semantics, Mr Giles, after all he isn't dead."
And then it hit him. "Are you saying that Xander was."
"Yes."
"Good god."
"Yes, quite, but that is not the only thing we have to discuss. While I am here on Mr. Harris insistence I am also under Sir Hellsing's orders," he paused to study his fellow countryman, "you see, Mr. Harris wanted to inform you that he was fine, in relative terms of course. On the other hands this is also a business trip, Mr. Giles."
"Could you please elaborate on that, uh Mr. Torensen."
"Of course, Mr. Giles. You have to understand that Sir Hellsing doesn't share the operation procedures of the council, and while she is quite unable to lend a direct hand to the matter, at least not without risking an international incident, she is willing to do so in critical situations. Therefore she needs to be kept up to date on the happenings here." he handed another folder to the watcher, "this is were you come in, Mr. Giles."
"I see."
"Let me be more clear with you, Mr. Giles, Her majesty's government is not asking you to resign to the watcher's council or to spy on them for us, but to keep us apprised of the comings and goings in this town."
"Can I think about it?"
"I am afraid I must leave with your answer, Sir."
Rupert paused for a second collecting his thoughts, in reality he did not have much of a choice, but.
"Very well, I'll agree, but only if I can inform some people of Xander's situation."
"You mean Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg?"
"Well, yes."
"There shouldn't be much of a problem with it, but I'd ask you to wait at least from telling tem the full story till I could arrange the proper paperwork" he said sliding a document in front of the watcher "in the meantime, please sign here and here."
"What is this?"
"Why, your induction onto the MI-12."
Xander had decided that, yes, he hated silver.
It had all been all due to a rather stupid accident; well, at least stupider than his norm.
After the orientation he had been ushered through a number of training exercises that took most of Saturday's night, probably to see how much of the soldier had been left behind, before being moved on to this second stage; relearning how to use the weapons in his new 'condition' to its fullest with Seras as his instructor.
Learning the how to had not being as hard as he would have thought, but that was only the beginning and on Sunday they were going through the more complex exercises.
Actually Xander was beginning to fell smug by his prowess, and of course, it was then when it happened
He had been in mid exercise, in a prone position changing, reaching for to be precise, the clip, when his index finger slipped with enough bad luck that it ended touching the tip of the first round in the magazine.
It had hurt like nothing in his life, not even his close encounter in the woods had hurt like. ok, perhaps he was overreacting, it had not hurt as much as that, but it had hurt a lot and in a way he could not describe, and it had only been a brush with a low-grade silver alloy Hellsing used in the rounds for their high rate of fire weapons.
Walter had been on the money there; silver was the bane of the newly turned. What was more it was the bane of any turned, period.
So, here he was, within one of the firing booths of Hellsing's shooting range sitting cross-legged against one of the booth's walls while nursing his numb and rather nasty looking index finger.
Seras, for her part, was crouching in front of him, helping him clean the wound.
"You could have warned me, you know?"
"Uh.. But I did, at least twice"
"Ah, you.did" nod "uh. that, er. heh. maybe you should have tried harder. You know how us teenagers tend to be." he said a bit embarrassed.
"Really? I don't quite remember being quite like that. must be an American thing. Don't worry I'll keep it in mind for the next time, Xander," she said with a smile of he own, "In the mean time, you might want to reconsider wearing the gloves Walter gave you."
"Oh! So there was a reason for them," he said snapping the fingers of his good hand.
"Uh.. What did you thought they were for?" she asked, puzzled expression clearly on her face.
"Well I thought it was a stuffy brit thing, dunno, like a tweed supplement of some sort."
"Xander." she deadpanned.
"Oh, come one it wasn't that bad. ok, maybe it was but er.." Think fast, he said to himself, desperately trying to come up with something to redirect the conversation, "uh. shouldn't we go back at practicing with the big bad firearms. my finger is all ok now see," he said nervously waving the still foul looking finger in front of Seras.
"Nice try," she said with a small smile, "but we are right about done."
"We are?" he said with some doubt in his voice.
"Yes, at least for now," she said incorporating herself, "need a hand?"
"Sure," he said grabbing Seras' extended hand, before he was pulled to his feet, "thanks." Sure, it had not been gentleman like, but when Seras had inclined to give him a hand, the twin features of her uniform moved in a very uh. enticing manner. It was beyond him how the uniform managed to contain them.
"You're welcome."
"This means free time?"
"No, you have another class waiting for you," she said while disassembling the sniper rifle.
"Uh. what are you going to teach me now?"
"Me? Nothing, master will be teaching you."
"Uh... master? As in your master Alucard?"
"Don't know any other?"
".It has to be him?"
"Yes."
"Are you really, really, sure?"
"Yes, Xander, I am really, really, sure. Besides it is not as if master has done anything to you."
"Well, that's true, but."
"Oh!" she said snapping her fingers, "you are scared of him due to the whole master thing, right?"
"Me? Scared? Of him?"
"Yes" Stated Seras with a smug expression on her face.
Xander stood for a moment frozen before nodding in defeat, "You are despicable, " he finally added in a daffish voice.
"Well, I try," she said with a small smile. "But, Xand. come one, you should give master a chance.. He is not that bad."
"Ok, he is just a bit ruthless and twisted.. And let's not forget the blood fetish." Xander had met the no life king during the orientation and to be honest, he had felt intimidated by Alucard. intimidated wasn't the right word but.
"Blood fetish?" she asked a bit puzzled.
"Yeah, with all the blood red he wears, he so has to have some sort of blood fetish."
Seras shook her head, Xander's sense of humor was rather unique, to say the least "Oh, come on Xander, even for you thi."
"Uh? This wha." he interrupted himself in mid sentence once he noticed Seras' expression. In reality, there could only be one thing, two if you wanted to get technical, but he really doubted Seras would play him such a joke, at least she didn't seemed the type, so that left meant back to option one. ".lemme guess, he is standing behind me, right?" he deadpanned.
Xander was finding himself in a rather peculiar situation. He was hanging upside-down, being held by the ankle by Alucard, on the roof of the Hellsing mansion. Well, only Alucard was there, he was, currently, hanging over the ledge, probably three floors from the ground. It wasn't as if he could have guessed the no life king had been so self conscious..
"Uh. a sorry wouldn't cut it, wouldn't it?"
"Why?"
"Ehm. cuz I really don't want you to let me go?"
"Ah, but till a few moments ago that was what you wanted me to do," he said with an amused smile.
"Well. yes. but that was then, and then I wasn't this far from the ground. "
"So?"
"Well. me, ground. splat and. oh..."
"Oh, indeed," he said in a full grin, before he let go of Xander's ankle.
With a sense of amusement Alucard followed his newest "student's" fall until his encounter with the ground, and a rosebush, at a rather uncomfortable angle.
It had been a while since he had trained someone as actively as Integra wanted the boy trained; it had been so long he had even forgotten how entertaining it could be.
Though the real question was, how much of the mansion, the surrounding grounds and last but not least his student's psyche he was going to be able to demolish using the training excuse or what his master was going to do about it.
And with a grin he followed after his student. he really loved win-win situations.
Xander 's point of view on the situation had been a bit on the unique side. At least the angle was, his take on the situation, on the other hand, was also quite different from Alucard's.
For one part he had been paralyzed by fear, so his rational mind, or most of it, had shut down for the time being; which let it be said, had been the only factor that had avoided him to scream his way down.
On the other hand, one could hardly blame him, having heightened senses is definitely a problem in some kind of circumstances, like this one; especially if one is new to and has yet to get used to them.
Of course, one should keep in mind, that falling from that height, head first, wouldn't be fun to anyone, immortal or otherwise.
The sudden stop at the other end of the fall wasn't any better than the fall itself, especially the finding himself wedged in the remains of a rosebush.
It begun with a crushing sound, probably the bush meeting him, followed by a thud, (him) meeting the ground, and finishing with a crunching noise, the ground stopping him cold at the expense of a few dozen broken bones.
And then, there was Alucard, looking impossibly tall and foreboding standing next to him. The first part was probably because of the angle; the second simply came naturally to the no life king.
"What the hell were you trying to do? Kill me!?" Xander practically screamed, completely forgetting to whom he was speaking
"Kill you? Hardly."
"That's a hoot, cuz you broke my back. I can't get up," that and the thorns of the bush were giving him an uncomfortable itch, that he shouldn't have felt with his back broken.
Alucard's answer was a bone chilling laughter, "That was the idea, soldierboy."
"What?!" Xander's newfound courage went with the laugh, as part of his mind reminded him at whom he was shouting.
"I think you heard me the first time, Sir Hellsing commanded me to train you, and this is it."
"Training? What."
"Regeneration," Alucard said, interrupting him in mid sentence, "and thus, we needed something for you to regenerate, didn't we?" he finished in a condescending tone.
"Re.regeneration?. How?" He really wanted to move on his own power anytime soon.
"Simply will it," it came naturally to their kind, even to a lowly thrall. But willing it not only speeded the process considerably, it allowed some rather special tinkering onto it, not to mention that it was a great way to learn bypassing the body's limitations.
"Oh," sure, he should have seen it coming.
Of course, saying it was easier than doing it, but soon there after Xander started feeling the bones cracking back into place and then the muscles returning to their proper places and original shapes, even the skin repaired itself, leaving practically no mark of the bruising or the cuts made by both the thorns and the exposed fractures.
And it was then, that he was ripped of the bush and found himself once again upside down, with Alucard grabbing him by the ankle.
"Pathetic," he said in a monotonous tone, "we will have to repeat it, at least till you manage to do something halfway decent." He said, already moving toward the building.
Walter Dorne was perhaps one of the oldest and most respected members of the Hellsing organization. He had quite a long and active career, something not particularly normal in his chosen field of work, and had the distinction of being the youngest human not only to join the organization, but also to make it up to the elite 'trash disposal unit'.
Of course, time had caught up with him, and while he was still more than capable of taking out the trash, as he had shown to the younger Valentine, he was only a shadow of his former self.
Then again, he had other, more pressing, responsibilities than removing rubbish, and Alucard was more than capable and even eager enough to do so.
As much as the no life king hated his bondage, he loved a good fight, even if that seemed to have become a bit rare these days, too many freaks, too few real challenges.
Since his voluntary discharge from the field ops he had become Sir Integral's retainer, combination of butler, teacher, bodyguard and right hand man.
It was a position that he felt honored to hold, and a position that managed to keep him incredibly busy, especially since the Valentine brother's raid.
Ever since then, his workload had tripled, and not only because of the severe lack of personnel they were suffering. At least not only due to that, the fact was that a foreign and quite hostile organization had managed to sneak a very sizeable force of very conspicuous looking ghouls up to their very gates during a round table meeting.
The implications were disturbing, but not less than the lack of findings.
He didn't like giving those kinds of reports, but it was his duty. And with that he knocked at the mahogany doors towards Sir Hellsing's private office.
Sir Hellsing had been reading the leatherbound book that her grandfather had used as a journal during the war, when she heard the knock. She looked up in time to see Walter moving towards her desk, with his characteristically neutral expression on his face.
"Sir Integral," he said with a slight bow.
"How is our newest recruit, Walter," she said while removing a cigar from the humidor.
"Remarkably well, Sir Hellsing, he has begun training with Alucard."
"Already?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, it seems, as suspected, that the abilities earned during the "Halloween incident "were more than theorical."
"Good," she said, lighting the cigar. It simplified matters considerably, and it also shortened the timeframe for the operations.
"I should add that Mr. Littlejohn has agreed to aid us in this matter," Edward Littlejohn had been part of Hellsing's research division, but when it had been dismantled some twenty years ago, he had remained on the payroll as a private consultant of sorts. He was perhaps one of the most prominent figures in his field and, more important, a staunch ally.
"Very well," she took a poof from her cigar.
"Additionally, our man in the Los Angeles consulate has brought some good news."
"So, we have secured aid from the Watcher?"
"Provided Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg are briefed on the situation."
"Predictable, has the legal department processed the necessary paperwork?"
"It should be in transit to the consulate as we speak."
"What about the other matter, Walter?"
"Millennium?" he sighed "With the approval of the round table, we secured the aid of reliable sections of the intelligence community to scour any possible pieces of pertinent information. However, as of yet, nothing noteworthy has come up. Additionally some queries have been made to foreign supernatural and occult study groups"
"And yet nothing was found," it had not been a question, but a statement. That much was clear.
"I apologize, sir Integral, but, as it is, the only reliable information at our disposal is the meaning of the word itself."
"A span of a thousand years," Integral completed for her butler.
"Quite so."
Sir Integral placed the cigar back onto the crystal ashtray and remained in though for a moment before standing up.
"There is one thing left, then." she paused and glanced back to the leather bound tome, "Half a century ago a power had perused the dream of an empire, that would last the span of a thousand years."
Walter's eyes widened almost instantly. He had considered that possibility, but discarded it almost as fast. They had eliminated the lot of them, from test subjects to researchers, even the facilities and the documents. Nothing had remained.
At least nothing should have remained. but if it had.
"The third Reich, Hitler's Germany," Integra finished.
She turned towards the window, looking at the sunlight beginning to bathe the inner garden and the forest beyond it. "Walter, I want confirmation, one way or the other. Leave no stone unturned and no information overlooked no matter how insignificant."
"Very well."
"Oh, one more thing, Sir Integral."
"Yes."
"I might have come up with a solution to our personnel problem."
The Valentine raid had not only left them shorthanded, but with serious problems to replenish their loses.
It had become apparent, that the security apparatus had been compromised by the, as of yet, still invisible backers of the Valentine brothers.
Uncertain to the level of it, the institution had intensified its recruit's screening process, so far only five men had been inducted and with luck perhaps two more would be by the end of the week.
Luckly the bulk of the survivors had been from the investigative division, that had been away on assignment; with out their aid the number of inductees would have been even lower.
Still. the results were far from acceptable.
"I can secure the services of the Wild Geese mercenary company."
"Mercenaries? Can they be trusted?"
"Yes, you must understand that they are no ordinary mercenary company, they are overly competent, experts in the field. Additionally they seem to be quite indebted, as such we do posses some leverage over them," he said placing a stack of bills and assorted documents on top of the desk.
"Very well, Walter, I leave this matter to your discretion."
"Then I will take my leave."
Buffy still felt tired as she made her way towards the library through the student filled hallways.
A slayer needed very few hours of sleep, at least compared to the average teenager. However, that had its limits.
Four miserable days had happened since Halloween, the day that had supposedly been 'dead for the undead' but it had turned to be anything but.
For starters she had been just another powerless victim, at least for great part of the night, trapped within her own costume.
Because of that people had been hurt and some had died, funny part was that that didn't really bothered her, at least that wasn't what was taking her sleep away.
It was what happened to those close to her, to her friends, pretty selfish of her, and in character to her old cheerleading self.
Still that didn't changed the facts.
Xander was gone, missing, but missing really didn't existed in this town, at least it didn't existed for long, before it was either promoted to snack or host.
She wanted to believe he was ok, but she knew better, and hoped he was among the permanently dead.
She wasn't too sure if she could kill a demon wearing the face of her friends, and wasn't too eager to find out.
Willow. Willow was a wreck, even worse than she was, Xander had meant a lot to her and then there was Jesse, that other boy close to her she had failed to protect.
Some slayer she was.
When Giles saw his slayer enter the library, he knew his time was running out, his time to tell her, her time to live.
As it was he doubted Buffy was getting any sleep, and it showed.
He needed to tell her, and to do it now, but.
"Good morning, Buffy."
"Uh? Oh, Giles, morning."
"A-are you sleeping well Buffy?"
"Eh? Yeah. all night long, like a baby."
Giles sighted, all things aside she should have known better than to lie to him. But a part of him was pleased for the reasons behind it, even if this wasn't the time for it.
Well, it was a moot point, besides there were pressing matters here, and Torensen had promised him the documents tonight at the latest.
"Buffy, I need you to come over my home after patrol tonight. There are a few things we need to talk about."
Whether Torensen showed up or not, he was going to tell Buffy all he knew and damn the consequences, he was not going to have his slayer killed over some red tape.
Xander was lying on his room's bunk. It wasn't much, but it was home, ok, it wasn't even that. It was just a small, plain looking room within the mansion's huge basement. His old room had been bigger and well, the still bare walls didn't help the atmosphere a bit. It had a desk, locker, oddly enough a bathroom and, of course, his bunk.
He had slept in worse place. well, his Halloween memories had, but it was close enough.
He was felling too tired and too miserable to care, not to mention that his whole body ached in one way or another.
Then again, he had regenerated most parts of his body at least once within the past forty-eight hours, so it was either a side effect of it or he hadn't done it right, or right enough.
Training under Alucard was an experience he was not going to forget anytime soon. He was having an awful lot of those lately, but this one. actually he wasn't all too sure about surviving it.
Alucard had been beyond harsh and merciless; he had seemed more interested in torturing than training him.
He had been repeatedly thrown, head first, from the roof, bludgeoned with a cudgel, a morning star and a suit of full plate mail, lapidated, stabbed and last but no least dismembered.
Sure he could understand the logic behind the training; after all it wasn't as if he could be killed by it, just permanently scarred and only psychologically at that.
But at least training with the monster was over and not only that, he was going to enjoy the rarity of free time before sunrise by resting in peace on his bunk.
Of course, fate is hardly known to miss such an obvious cue. That might be why the alarm chose that moment go off.
"Alert, Alert, This is a Class 3 emergency"
With a curse, Xander slowly got up from his bed and made his way towards the door.
Sir Hellsing was standing on the edge of the helipad, watching at her troops readying themselves for the upcoming operations, loading the two Puma helicopters the institution had managed to acquire from the RAF to replace the ones destroyed weeks ago.
There had been confirmation of a FREAK in Debenford, a small hamlet perhaps sixty miles north of London, via one of the MI-5 teams that had been working for them. Of course, five minutes latter contact with the team was lost.
Not really surprising, since the MI-5 reliability, and loyalty, was on the doubt. The possibility of a double agent on that team was simply too high.
This was a bad situation, possibly as bad as Cheddar. Her sight followed as sergeant Victoria entered the lead chopper, there was not going to be a repeat of that one, she was sure of it.
Her eyes went back to her soldiers, as they finished loading and begun closing up the helicopter's doors. There were too few of them to be of any real use but to secure the LZ. Anger flared up against the elusive Millennium. But almost instantly it was contained. Her men would be avenged, at the proper time, no sooner, no latter.
And tonight's weapon of vengeance was going to be the trash disposal unit, like always.
Besides, tonight was the first mission to the newest member of that unit.
She was curious how his performance was going to be, how deep the soldier's memories went. And exactly what had Alucard seen in the boy.
Behind her, the chopper's engine whirled onto life and its rotor begun spinning. Calmly, Integral turned around and, ignoring the backdraft, began moving towards her chopper.
Whatever the question was, in a few hours she'd have her answer.
In the lead Puma, Seras was absently watching the ground go by. It sometimes still amazed the sharpness of her senses, how easily she could see the needles on the pine they had just flew by or the feathers of that owl that had been scared away by the chopper's engine.
Xander was sitting next to her; he was for once quiet, staring at the nothingness before him. He was clad in Hellsing's BDU and was holding a FAL tightly in his hand. The only thing that distinguished him from the rest of the troopers were his unnatural red eyes.
"Nervous?"
"A bit," he said. It was more like anticipation, than nervousness or fear, but it was an all too present and uncomfortable sensation.
"Don't worry, me too," she said with a wink. Seras had an ability to lighten up the situation; perhaps it was that skimpy uniform of hers or her generous. attributes, or more probably her personality. For an undead monster she was way too cheerful at times.
Of course, Xander couldn't avoid staring at Seras choice of weaponry, the huge Harkonnen cannon. The thing was probably large than she was, and perhaps as heavy. He had seen first hand what that thing could do, asides from that one time when it was used to kill a certain she-FREAK, and had a tremendous respect for the weapon.
Actually it made his old FN FAL feel inadequate.
"Five minutes till touchdown" interrupted the pilot through the audio system
The pilot of the lead Puma was tired and nervous. He was a new member of the institution and had yet to get used to their work schedules. Of course the weather wasn't helping him one bit, a storm front was approaching them and was probably going to caught them up in an hour or less.
His designated LZ was a municipal football soccer field, not far from the target and open enough for both choppers.
That also meant they were way to open for any shit, and with the storm coming, odds of escape were slim if the shit hit the fan. Wooden benches were hardly obstacles and even if they were they didn't had the troops to man them.
It was then when he noticed the oddly moving figures dotting the field.
"Hostiles on LZ" the pilot alerted
Seras looked towards Xander before standing up. It was going to be up to them to clear it.
Per standard orders, the choppers were going to hover not far from the ground and wait there, till they weeded out the undead, before putting down.
"Come on Xand, we have work to do," she said moving towards the door.
"Uh?"
"We are going to clear the LZ," she said sliding the door open.
"Rappel?" he said moving by her.
"Why would we?"
"Well." but she didn't gave him the chance to finish. She just simply shifted her weight slightly and gave him an strategic push. Gravity did the rest.
Yes, it had been underhanded, and yes, it had been very masterish on her part, but the longer they talked about it, the lesser the chances of finding anyone alive.
Xander, for his part, felt a slight sense of déjà vu as he saw the ground rapidly approaching. Of course, the height being far lower that his normal diving spot, he didn't had much time to think about it, before he met the ground.
On the other hand, Seras' landing had been far more elegant, catlike even. Then again almost anything would have better than Xander's horizontal slam.
"Ugh. damnit Seras." he said incorporating himself, ".warn me next time."
"Sorry, no time, get ready," she said, pointing at the shuffling figures throughout the soccer field.
Xander swallowed as he shouldered his rifle and moved the selector from safe to semi. This one was the real thing, not a game, not a memory.
Mechanically he took aim at the closest ghoul; in life it had been a middleaged woman, not a bad looking one; now, however her skin was in a sickly shade of blue, most of her left arm and midriff seemed to have been eaten or at least torn off, and what remained of her clothes had been shredded and bloodied.
It was a fate no one deserved; the person, as strange as it sounded, still remained, locked in a broken body it could not control.
A nightmare without end.
He pulled the trigger, sending a 7.62 mm round at the thing's skull. The wound exploded in a shower of blood and gore, before sending the creature, now truly dead, falling towards the grass like a rag doll.
Vampires usually created ghouls to serve as cannon fodder, to cause chaos and destruction; since the condition was also transferable by the ghoul's bite they were very good at it.
After the middleaged woman his target was a female teenager, then a young man, a paramedic and an elder citizen. They were already dead, worse than dead, and he was doing all that could be done for them, giving them a quick death.
In the distance he could see the lightning dancing on the clouds. Apparently the weatherman had been on the money for change.
"Clear?"
"All Clear."
As the choppers landed, Xander began wondering when exactly his life had become a Romero film.
As soon as the Pumas touched down, troopers moved out and began setting up the defensive perimeter.
"Ok Xand, they can take it from here, let's go hit our targets, 'kay?"
"'kay."
And so they began moving in different directions, Seras was going towards the last known position of the MI-5 team while he was hitting the last given position of the FREAK and probably work his way to other locations.
Of course that Alucard had probably taken care of the FREAKS already, if so, it was going to be mop up for them.
Xander's trek towards his target had been mostly uneventful, save for the dozen or two ghouls he had put down. No survivors, but a lot of signs of fighting. Casings, bloodstains, broken windows.
Hopefully Seras had gotten luckier on that area, after all one could always hope
His target was an old two story building located near the center of the hamlet. A pub had operated in the ground floor, till probably a few hours ago. The first floor was mostly unused, save for the owner's apartment and some office space.
Or, at least that was the info they had on it, he knew better than to trust it implicitly, but then again he had no reason to.
The building looked run down and the recent bout of mayhem had done nothing to improve its condition. He had seen a few shadows lurking behind the shattered windows and the broken door.
Carefully his hand went towards his sidearm, a colt. 45 pistol, and removed its safety.
The building screamed trap in a way he couldn't really explain, but he had little choice in the matter. Trap or no trap, his orders had been very simple, search and destroy.
As he approached the door he swiftly moved the selector of his rifle from semi to auto, he had a part to play.
The scene inside was one of utter chaos, the tables were overturned, shards of glass everywhere, the odd intact glass or bottle and the blood on the walls, on the floors, on the tables.
And then, there were the Ghouls. He showed them no mercy, he fired controlled bursts in to the things, dropping the still twitching bodies as he systematically cleared the main room.
Once the main area was cleared, he moved onto the secondary areas of the ground floor, the storeroom, bathrooms and the small kitchen.
It was during his sweep of the latter, the last leg of his sweep, when he heard it, a rhythmic noise.
Carefully he eyed the freezer.
It was one of the old freezers that restaurants used, built in to a wall, probably large enough for a person or two to hide in.
Survivors?
Perhaps someone had been locked in the freezer when all things had gone to hell.
While Ghouls could use firearms, they had to be prepared for it, but using doors? Opening locks? That was something beyond them, and so was opening the door of the meatlocker.
Quickly he made his way through the kitchen and opened the door to the freezer.
Almost immediately the half frozen corpse of a fat burly man launched itself towards him.
Out of reflex Xander moved backwards, making the corpse fail its grab, but then he slipped on something, and felt back first to the floor. He saw the thing approaching him and his rifle just beyond him.
Panic ruled him for a second, before his hand went for his pistol and placed a heavy. 45 slug in the ghoul's fat head, sending it and the rest of the ghoul falling backwards.
He kept staring at the still twitching corpse, then at his gun and back at the floor and finally onto his bloodstained glove.
Apparently he had slipped on a rather big bloodstain. In his eagerness to open the fridge he had missed it and almost. almost nothing, asides from the pain of being bitten nothing would have happened, but it was a remainder.
Way too careless, he thought as he began collecting his weapons.
Bah, the first floor was cleared; it was time to move to the second floor, to the offices or whatever was up there.
The access to the second floor was via a stair set next to the bathrooms.
Slowly, Xander began climbing the stairs, hugging the wall. The stairs were a closed unit, probably the result of a prior remodelation, however it looked awfully bare and clean, as opposed to the rest of the building.
He had a reealy bad feeling about this.
On the first landing he rechecked his gun and changed the clip, whatever awaited him, he had wanted to face it with a full clip. He already had a bad experience from ammo lackage at a critical moment not too long ago and he wasn't looking forward to a repeat of that particular situation.
With anticipation he reached the second landing.
Quickly he checked the flight of stairs that kept on onto the roof, before turning towards the closed door.
That was it. Slowly he turned the knob and began opening the door.
The report of a machinegun filled the air as Xander felt being brutally thrown backwards(,) until he slammed against the wall behind.
A tall red haired man in a blue suit walked out of the now open door. He had a smug look onto his face and unnatural yellow eyes.
Behind him, discarded on the floor, was a still smoking M-60 machinegun, gun casings and the remains of the ammo belt could be seen all around it.
"Oh, it was just a regular trooper, a good one, but still a trooper.." He moved towards Xander's prone form.
Reaching for the fallen trooper, the FREAK grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and lifted him to his height "Hmmm. you seem to be still alive, you are one tough bastard." He chuckled at the trooper "Well Rambo, you are now going to replace one of the ghouls you broke," he said reaching for his neck.
But then Xander's eyes opened, revealing a pair of blood red orbs. The FREAK, surprised, let go of the trooper's collar and instinctively moved backwards, but it was already too late.
Xander's left hand had already found its grip on the faux vampire's right shoulder and the right hand, well, it was pressing his pistol against the FEAK's chest right were his heart was.
Horror filled the man made monster's face, as realization struck, and then, as the teen's mouth twisted onto a predatorial grin, the pistol went off.
Buffy was standing before the door to her watcher's apartment, with one hand on the doorbell.
She was tired, frustrated, but most of all unsure, there had been something in Giles words the morning before, that gave her the willies. Like something that had gone wrong, or something that was 'bout to go wrong.
The slayage hadn't helped her nerves a bit. She had only found five fledglings, but had found signs of a lot of activity, dug out graves, in at least two cemeteries; somebody had been very busy and that wasn't good.
'.Come on Giles.. What's'
It was then, that the door opened. Giles was standing just beyond the doorway, still in tweed. She could sometimes swear that it was part of the watcher's skin, surgically grafted at birth or something.
"Oh, hello Buffy; please." he said making a gesture of invite, "how was patrol?"
"Light, only five fledges, but there were some holes in Crestfield and Centenary," she said entering the apartment.
"How many?"
"At least ten in crest, a bit more in the. who's him?" she said pointing at a middle aged man in gray suit leisurely sitting in one of Giles' armchairs. The suit was definitely tailor made, at least to her expert eye; it seemed rather elegant and expensive, though the tailor made generally insured that. It gave the man an important and officious look.
"Miss Summers, my name is Arthur Torensen, I am the cultural attaché of the British Consulate in LA."
Buffy eyed her watcher, suspiciously, when he nodded, endorsing the man in the suit, she visibly calmed down.
"Uh, a pleasure. I guess," she then turned towards her watcher, "He is from the council?"
"Oh, no I am afraid that I do not belong to that particular organization. I am merely a member of her Majesty's foreign office."
"Problems with your papers, Giles?" she said with a mischievous smile on her face.
"On the contrary, Miss Summers, the business I have to conduct tonight is with you."
"With me?" ok, that had been new.
"Uh. it might be best if we all sit down," Rupert offered, pointing at his room's only table.
"Giles?" oh no, she wasn't worried, not worried at all. Ok, maybe a tinsy bit, especially since she didn't had a clue of what was going on.
"It is important Buffy, please."
"Im-important?" ok, she was officially scared, Giles was being uh. cryptic, she didn't liked cryptic, it generally meant bad news, mom had been cryptic when. gah, she stopped her mind rant or self rant before it became apparent to others, or at least she hoped she had. Truth was, she didn't had much of a choice, after all Giles didn't went around playing, "ok."
"Good," said the diplomat placing his attaché case on the table before opening it, "before we begin, I must ask you to read and sign this document," he placed a small stack of paper from within his case on the table in front of the slayer.
"Uh. why?"
"Well, we are going to discuss some sensitive information and as such you must agree to keep it to yourself."
Carefully, she eyed towards Giles. Normally she wouldn't have, but with the situation.
Once her watcher gave her a slight nod, she hesitantly grabbed a pen and signed the documents at all the appropriated places, before returning both to the Englishman.
"Thank you miss Summers" he said, putting the documents back into his briefcase, before closing and locking it.
"So? What's so important, that needed all this?" her tone had been a bit aggressive, but this whole thing wasn't sitting well with her and all that nervousness had to go somewhere, after all, the slayer wasn't a scared, confused and saddened teen.
"It is about your friend Alexander."
"Xander?" surprise was evident in her face, as well as uncertainty "is he."
"As far as I know he is fine, if a bit confused."
"He is?" There was puzzlement there, but it was quickly been replaced with satisfaction, joy even. Torensen knew that soon those emotions would be swept away again, hopefully temporarily, but.. "W-what happened."
"Well, it might be best if we begin at the beginning, which from my understanding, would be this past Halloween."
Arthur paused for a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose before starting. It was not going to be easy, the slayer, as Mr. Giles had estimated was distraught and it could become quite the volatile situation.
Then again, lying to her was not an option; it was not a good idea in the given situation, not to mention it would have been against Sir Hellsing's orders.
And disobeying Hellsing's iron maiden was not a good idea; actually it was downright suicidal.
"You see, for some reason your friend, Alexander, was transported to the outlaying areas surrounding Brandsgore, in the new forest. We are not too sure how it happened, but Mr. Giles here," he said pointing at the Watcher, "suggested it might be some consequence of the magic used that night, chaos magic, that seems to be of a rather unpredictable nature. In any case, that is not what matters, but what happened afterwards is."
Buffy listened to the man's tale, word for word, at first she had been thrilled to learn that her friend was ok, if a bit far away. Of course, that didn't last, as soon as she heard the words 'wound' and 'serious'. But it was then, that the tale took a turn for the bizarre, when the British diplomat explained both the nature of Hellsing and their ace.
At first she had been skeptic, after all it had gone against what she had being taught, but Giles had supported the man's claims. He had explained to her that the No Life Kings, which was the name of what her Xander shaped friend had become, had a different root to the garden variety Aurelian vampires, that they were very different from them and that they weren't even daemons, at least no more than a man could be.
On the other hand, there was the promise of help from the leader of Hellsing, not that it could be much, but it sounded nice to have extra support for the next apocalypse.
Buffy was still sitting at Giles' table a few minutes after the British diplomat had left. She was still a bit shocked by all the news, but that wasn't the only reason she was still in her watcher's house.
"Giles?"
"Yes, Buffy?"
"What about Willow?"
"I wanted to tell you first, so that you could be of aid if she takes the news badly."
Buffy sighted, he was right, Willow was not going to take this well, at last not better than she had.
"When?"
"Tomorrow after school, I believe would be the best time."
Rain began falling on the hamlet. It lay broken and abandoned, a memory of a past long gone.
At least the rain would extinguish the fires and clean some of the damage, wash it away.
Xander slowly walked through the devastation, pistol in hand, with no hurry. The situation was contained, and soon the investigation teams would go though the hamlet like a plague of locust.
His body armor was missing, broken and discarded on the second landing, his clothes were dirty, torn and bloodied, he still had his rifle, but now it was little more than an expensive paperweight, one, at least, of the machinegun's rounds had shattered the barrel. actually he had been very lucky that no round hit the magazine in his gun or the ones on his body.
He had been more than lucky; if the FREAK had had half a brain he'd likely be dust scattering to the winds.
Really, trying to kill vamps with regular ammo. oh, yes, the massive trauma of getting one ammo belt discharged into his body at point blank had been painful and hard to regenerate, specially since he had to figure out how to do it on the fly, figures he'd get hurt with the one thing he hadn't trained regenerating, but it was nothing, compared to what a silver or even a blessed bullet would have done to him.
Of course it wasn't surprising, if one considered that the idiot hadn't realized that he wasn't a living human, until it was too late, for him, not that he complained about that.
After all, without it, things would have been a bit more complicated. not.
'Yes, FREAKs are truly pathetic creatures. however that does not excuse you from getting shot in such a stupid fashion.'
'Uh. hold a sec. there was a. oh, damn.'
'Well said, soldierboy. However I'd be more concerned in how to correct the shortcomings you have displayed tonight. yes, it means we'll be training with an extra zeal tomorrow.'
".Well, shit."