Hellsing Fic wrote for me! (Anderson, of course)

[Neesan]

There is NOTHING better than having an non-fetish friend indulge you in your fetish. N-o-t-h-i-n-g! My bestest friend came to visit me and she wrote me this HUGE pile of wrong and I wanted to share it because I love it to a million small pieces. Squeeeee! Because I've taken a HUGE crush on Father Anderson and this made me DIE so much! *Flail*

- - -

Alexander Anderson, fresh from his latest report to Father Enrico Maxwell (and his lapdog, Father Renaldo), walked down the dark, narrow corridors that made up the Vatican’s Iscariot Organization, including the Special Section XIII. Anderson always hated reporting to the Italian, who, despite his shorter stature, lorded over the Irishman. Who was the elder? Who was out there killing the vile vampire scum?

Swelling on his distaste for his superior, Anderson scarcely noticed that his feet had carried him to the library that was located on the lower levels of the building. He usually avoided the place because it was filled with those in the employ of Section XIII. Anderson knew he, too, was an employee, but he held contempt for those that hid behind books and did nothing outside the safety of the Vatican walls.

Tonight, for some reason, the library was empty. Anderson looked down at his wrist, at the one piece of modern technology that he allowed himself – his watch. Twelve-thirty am. Ah, he thought, that would explain Father Maxwell’s haggard expression and the lack of drones bustling about. Constantly being a servant of God, not heeding the barriers of night and day, Anderson found himself often losing track of time.

Since the library was abandoned, Anderson decided that perhaps having a quick peek at a few books would be a good way to utilize his energy. Vampire slaying did give him quite the adrenaline rush, after all. Gazing over the countless rows of books in the long room, Anderson took his time reading the titles adorning the worn and cracking spines. Some titles were in Italian, some in Greek, some even in Aramaic and Hebrew, but most were in Latin, the church’s native tongue. Not all were about vampires, as the Iscariot Organization handled all supernatural occurrences and beings from possessions to werewolves, but a large majority handled the topic of the most dangerous being to mankind.

Anderson found the next section he entered to be particularly interesting, and especially unused. “Vampire lore, mythologies, and histories.” He hoped one book would give him insight on the foul beasts, show him a way to defeat them for good, especially those like the demon Alucard. While walking the aisles reading titles, he rubbed underneath his nose, subconsciously taking a deep breath to clear his tickling sinuses. Book after book, shelf after shelf he looked, never touching lest he damage a precious book.

Anderson was almost ready to give up his search as fruitless when he came across just the book he was looking for. The Latin book covered the history of the vampire, and their strengths and weaknesses. It had been penned by a seventeenth century priest, so it was old, but Anderson wasn’t looking for something new. He already knew what vampires were weak against, he wanted to know what they were weak to long ago, and by comparing, maybe he cold figure out their other weaknesses, or maybe predict what they might be susceptible to in the future.

Very carefully, Anderson removed the book from the shelf, blowing the dust off from the wood to preserve the book’s delicate cover. During the resulting snort from the dust storm, he pulled the book free from its neighbors, and quickly made his escape. He found a table well lit by wall sconces and sat, breathing a sigh of relief. He’d really upset his nasal passages by breathing in that most ancient dust, which, even now, stung his sinuses. He ran his gloved finger under his nose and opened the book, scowling when the itching didn’t stop. He pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and shook it open, bringing it up to blow his nose.

When the itch had been appeased, Anderson finally cracked the book open, the musty tome groaning as centuries of stiffness were disturbed. And, as if the library was not quite finished with him. It also released untold years worth of dust. Sneezing before he could grab his handkerchief from the table, he did everything he could to protect the book from harm: turning his head, cupping his face, but most of all, trying to deny his sneezes all together. His breath hitched and hiccupped as he desperately grabbed for his handkerchief. With eyes glazed with water, he finally got the cloth pressed to his face, and just in time to catch four harsh, throaty sneezes that rung loudly in the silent library. A deep breath had to be taken before he could pull his glasses off, allowing him to wipe his eyes with gloved fingers.

An aggravated groan made the candles behind him flicker. He was beginning to question his decision about spending his time in the library. Another groan echoed in the room when he finally let his eyes rest on the words beautifully etched on the page. The priest that chronicled these old tales had been careful to write clear and well to help future hunters in their ordeals. Anderson poured over the words, searching for knowledge he didn’t already have. He was a well-read man, though he had never read something quite this old.

For well over an hour he read, not learning anything new, but finding the misconceptions believed back them to be interesting. Honestly, he thought, who believed that holly either worn or strung above a doorway would deter a vampire from biting? He gave a weary chuckle and was about to close the book when something jumped out at him from a flipped page. The words were written by another hand, this one rushed, dark, messy. Anderson wondered what had prompted the exchange of writers, death perhaps? A personal encounter with a vampire? Intrigued, he read on, eyes going wide as he did. The messy scrawl told of the vampires’ weakness for light, how it burned and seared the flesh from their bones, the bones themselves turning to ash. He knew as such, any hunter or modern teenager knew that, but the book went on to say that using mirrors wouldn’t diminish the effect. Scratching an eyebrow with a fingertip, Anderson pondered on it. He knew that only natural sunlight could harm a vampire, the purity of God’s light destroying the evil that dwelled in the vampire. Artificial sunlight, like from a movie screen or heating bed could not harm a vampire, and for the same reason, neither could reflected light.

Reading on, with nose closer to the pages for the writing had grown smaller, he found more truths coupled with believable misinformation, all cleverly believable unless you truly knew vampires. Anderson was growing suspicious of the book. It changed voice, font, and believability with its new writer, who should have maintained the integrity of the first author’s work. With a closer peek, he saw it, the crimson tint to the dark ink. Blood, and not just any blood, undead blood.

Before he could leap away, finally understanding the black magic at work, the book slammed shut, sending up a huge plume of dust. Anderson gasped in shock and panic, which only made his situation worse. His breath hitched and his eyes lowered, nearly closed, but the tiny slits revealed his inner battle, his strong desire to quell the feeling. Almost, almost he had conquered the urge to sneeze using calming breaths. Almost, until the familiar baritone laugh rang out in the silent library. Alucard stepped out of the shadows he created, slowly sauntering to Anderson, now panicking, at the table.

“Quite the bookworm, Paladin.” His long finger stirred the dust hovering in the air, sending more of down to rain on the struggling blonde. Anderson glared at him with watery eyes, curing the midian’s magic and sadism. As if reading his mind, Alucard grinned, letting the innocent dust do his dirty work. “Never guessed you to study.” His evil grin grew huge, maniacal when Anderson’s battle was lost, a sharp string of sneezes followed by a sharp string of curses.

“Ye foul beast, how dare ye defile this holiest of places with ye filth?” Anderson was enraged. He’d been tricked and embarrassed by the Hellsing pet freak, and now he was being taunted? He snapped and pulled out blade, the silver gleaming dull gold in the candlelight. “I’ll kill ye, ye vermin!” Alucard’s reverberating laugh as he stepped backwards into a shadow made the Paladin freeze.

“I just wanted to see the Vatican’s lapdog in his moment of weakness.” His voice got low and dark, a sure sign that Anderson wouldn’t like what he said next. “You were adorable.” With a malicious laugh, Alucard stepped into his portal back to London, leaving Anderson to fume.

“I’ll get ye, vampire. I’ll get ye and show ye true power.” With a disgusted sigh, Anderson put the book away, less careful with it than when he removed it. Making his way out of the library, he reflected on his earlier thoughts, and he remembered the real reason he hated the library. It wasn’t the people, it was the dust.

- - -

Um. YUM. *dies happy*

[Chate Noire]

This is the awesomest! How darling is your friend?!

The story itself rocks as well. Can't get enough of allergic-to-dust priests...I liked the last line, "..it wasn't the people, it was the dust". Precious =)

[Garnet]

Hahah, very cute XD But I still hold that Anderson is Scottish.

[Neesan]

@Chate: Eee, isn't she though? XD She did it without me knowing, too. Was soooo sweet! And yes. Preists allergic to anything = my heaven. LOL

@Garnet: XD You know, I'm starting to agree with you. All thanks to cartoons, actually. I was watching some kids show about a big living in Ireland and would, in my head, compare Anderson to like... Scrooge McDuck. LMAO! Who sounded more like the latter. I'm unbais and hope they come out with something offical.

[Garnet]

@Chate: Eee, isn't she though? XD She did it without me knowing, too. Was soooo sweet! And yes. Preists allergic to anything = my heaven. LOL

@Garnet: XD You know, I'm starting to agree with you. All thanks to cartoons, actually.  I was watching some kids show about a big living in Ireland and would, in my head, compare Anderson to like... Scrooge McDuck. LMAO! Who sounded more like the latter. I'm unbais and hope they come out with something offical.

Well, in the manga he uses a lot of slang like "twae" and whatnot that is decidedly Scottish. Proof enough for moi!

But then, I'm not too picky. Sneezing celts in general = oumm

[Neesan]

But then, I'm not too picky. Sneezing celts in general = oumm

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Exactly! He can be Dutch-Indian-English-Spanish and I still adore him.