Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to Kouta Hirano.

Author's notes: This will contain the short stories (either drabbles or ficlets) that I'll write for the hellsing drops community in livejournal. The genres will differ, some will be humor and light hearted, others dark and dramatic, some canon based others AU. But all will be around the AndersonxIntegralxAlucard claim. The first ficlet was edited by Dracschick.


- One: Limbo

The armies were gone, the war was over, Walpurgisnatch had faded long ago, yet they continued to fight. The Zeppelins' remains had fallen over them, crushing them, engulfing their immortal bodies in the flames of war. Unlike Seras Victoria who was now ashes, they could regenerate from the dust.

The monsters were not welcomed into eternal rest.

Again and again. Slashing, sawing, tearing apart... The wind blew their bodies away, a firm whisper carried on the breeze. They closed their eyes, ignoring the florescent silhouette in the mist.

"Can you listen to those murmurs, Anderson? Can you? I know you do!"

Alucard shot at the corner of Anderson's mouth, not giving the priest time to answer his question. The thorny vines started to heal the wound almost immediately. The vampire fired once more and laughed to fill the atmosphere with his voice, sinister, maddening.


The Paladin attacked him, features deformed by the thorns and bullets. His eyes flashed in wrath and sorrow. Neither was willing to admit their guilt or, to stop the battle. They could not pause a second to think or feel, they only sought to fight as they were taught to, as they were raised to. To battle for a dead dream in the hopes to keep it alive. Their goals were of death, their methods were of destruction, the ruins of London were the fertile fields of corpses they sought to accomplish.

There should not be any noise in their ears, there should be only silence.

"It was your fault! Your fault!" Alucard snarled as the bible wrapped around him, its pages coming loose to stab at his flesh like hundreds of silver bayonets. He poured out the chains like inky shadows, reforming above a pile of moaning ghouls. He crushed the skulls to put them out of their misery – the most merciful act the vampire had done in a while.

"It was you who vowed to protect them all!" Anderson retorted, lunging with two bayonets forward. His thorns prickled the vampire with their holy poison as he pressed their bodies together.

"You promised to escort and defend them from harm as well. What is it, Anderson? Lying to yourself is a sin too. Confess before the Devil greets you. Let's see if you can ascend to the Heavens from the depths of Hell. "

Alucard aimed and plunged his hand into Anderson's still heart, attempting to take out the nail, despite knowing that his hand would burn at the contact point. Suddenly, like countless time before, they were set apart by the wind. Integral's blade swirled on the air in a menacing twist before it fell to the ground, between them.

They stared at the fallen sword and then, looked up, catching each other's gaze. They were panting, though neither needed to breathe, ready to renew their quarrel when the blade started to move. It spun on the ground, only to stop after a couple of seconds. Then, it quickly moved to aim in another, long forgotten direction. The main Zeppelin had started to collapse from the sky but, they had become far too occupied with their combat to notice. Until it was too late.

She had cursed them with her last living breath.

"What we will see?" Anderson asked. His hands flexed, anxious, bloodthirsty for more. If Alucard died, Anderson's faith would become hollow, empty so he pressed the conflict onward.

"What do you think?" Alucard sneered, his tone defensive, concealing his emotion of the terrible loss he now felt. He should fight with Anderson, that was what made sense now. That was what he wanted. A battle he was afraid to win. Or to lose.

They kept their heads down, listening to the light footsteps in the empty fields filled with carnage. Anderson's sword made a brusque motion forward, drawing back the attention of both combatants. They craved to get out, to immerse themselves in the heady adrenaline of battle but remained still for a moment, watching in a mixture of horror and fascination as invisible strings pulled the weapon away.

Eventually, it stopped. The sword reached its destiny. The Jackal and Casull slipped from Alucard's hands like unwanted toys, Anderson's bayonets faded into nothingness while both stared at the gleaming blade on the silvery mist. They could not muster the strength to continue the battle or, to tear their eyes away from the shining blade. The combatants grew still while the wind coldly embraced them both. The nail tightened its grip on Paladin's heart while the old Count, feeling the same sharp, piercing sensation, recalled the pounding of van Helsing's stake into his chest.

A wound both of them could not regenerate. Their blood dripped to the ground. They knew now that they could not heal themselves nor could they even move. Alucard and Anderson's visions grew foggy as the world shifted around them, becoming a gaseous universe, made mostly of grey mist, primitive and gloomy. Their bodies felt different, incorporeal. Both failed to notice that the destruction of the war had followed them there, the ghouls creeping around them, groaning in a hunger they could not satisfy. The lingering sadness of the atmosphere touched both former combatants, neither causing torment or bliss, but, rather, something in between.

Anderson and Alucard did not try to pick up their weapons anymore, their focus directed toward the sword and the corpse beside it.

The battle killed their dream. Fighting would not bring it back. Both Alucard and Anderson remained motionless, unmoving, watching Integral's bony hand close in the hilt of her blade, welcoming them to Limbo.