HELLSING: A trip between two worlds

Chapter #16: A dream is a wish your heart makes

It's was cold... odd. It felt as if an ice hand had taken hold of his heart and it was squeezing, the only source of warmth coming from two twin trails on his face. Odd. He never was cold...

Opening his red eyes, dulled to a brownish color, he saw the cause: he was laying in a tomb, blood tears running free from his eyes, mixing with the red of the wounds that seemed to enfold him as if they were the long dark cape he was wearing. He blinked once, twice, and slowly his vision cleared enough to see the broad-shouldered man standing in front of him. This man was talking, for his mouth was moving, but he couldn't make out exactly what was being said, his ears just picking out static. It was when he was lifted by this figure in red that his eyes took on the silhouette of two other men and a smaller, blonde woman. He was in a bubble, conscious but not aware. With a wavering sight, he looked down at his chest: a wooden stake protruded from it. That's when all his senses came crashing back to him at once. His eyesight, the hearing, the memories and the pain.

Vlad was in a graveyard, Van Helsing standing above him, followed by Jonathan and Seward, in their arms... Mina. His Mina.

"You will never have her." The deep voice of the professor echoed in his ears. The vampire coughed up blood, swallowed and closed his tired eyes.

"What?" he barely said above a whisper, still a bit disoriented and clinging to consciousness.

"You will never have her." This time the voice was lighter, a woman's. Confused, the count fought to stay awake and take on his surroundings. He was still in the graveyard and above him was still Van Helsing, only it was another Hellsing.

Instead of the bulk that was Abraham, he found the petite form of a long-haired woman with glasses and a suit. Frowning at her enraged expression, he turned his head to the other people who were present, an old dark-haired man and a younger one with a braid and eyepatch. This last one was holding another woman whose features were hidden in the man's jacket. In spite of this, he could make out her long-brown hair and pale skin. His eyes softened but quickly hardened again. He had been defeated by Hellsing and her friends, he thought with disgust, a single group of humans had bested him. And now he would never have her... He looked over at the woman again.

The fist of his executioner was descending.

He wished he had more time, that he could do it again and correct his mistakes.

The wood was pushed.

He had thought he could come to love her and she him. His princess, his countess, his queen.

The steak reached his heart, blood flowing freely as the count locked eyes with the girl, and sad brown met resigned red.

His Inés.

Alucard awoke with a start, bloody tears on a surprised and confused face. What had that been? Silently and with a grimace, the vampire reached to wipe away the crimson liquid, quietly pondering over his strange dream. He took an unnecessary and shaky breath and pinched his brow. He recalled having that dreadful dream (he refused to admit they were nightmares) about his defeat at the hands of Abraham before. God knew it was an image that would be perpetually engraved on his memory. But that was exactly what irked the vampire: it wasn't his memory this time. The image of loving brown eyes crossed his mind and he was forced to open his own red ones to erase it. It had been 200 years since that incident and he would lie if he said he remembered every detail; the places, the names and even some faces evaded his memory. Alucard frowned at that. Sometimes, even the face of his beloved seemed blurred. Was he forgetting his past? Was he forgetting Her? No. He remembers her; every one of them. The images were just fading from his mind and his memories just adapted with new ones. The Midian nodded to himself and reached for the lid of the box to open it and stop thinking about nonsense.