AN:

Some fluff in this chapter that lead to a very interesting conversation with Victor. . . I actually know where this story is going mostly so expect some excitement and action in the next chapter. Count on the pride and joy of Hellsing making an appearance. Also, there`s an incident where blood drinking shows a person`s memories, that isn`t from Hellsing by Kouta Hirano but it plays a part in some of this story so just roll with it please. Thank you sillykitty123 for already reviewing!

Warning: slight amount of drug use in this chapter!

Willow

"So tell me about this guy, Willow," Ellie grins pulling a pound cake from the freezer.

"I met him once; I don`t know why Andrea had to go and tell everyone about him."

"Yeah, well the way she talks you were about to run off after him. He must have been quite the looker if that`s the truth. Or was she lying eh?" She places the cake on a plate and ices it with buttercream, occasionally looking up with an expectant smile on her face.

"Not about how hot he was, that`s for sure! You should have seen that bad boy smile and he was so tall and looked pretty buff, but not too buff, ya know? Just how I like em. . ."

"Ah, so the drooling wasn`t exaggerated."

I fling a bit of buttercream from the cake I`m working on at Elle, hitting her apron. "I was not drooling. . much."

"Do that one more time and I will personally throw a bucket of icing over your head!" She warns, giggling across the table.

"Seriously though, he was so beautiful I don`t even remember what he was wearing! He could have been walking around naked under that coat for Christ`s sakes."

"I bet you`d like to know that. . ." She moves to the mechanical rolling pin.

"Can you roll me some purple fondant?" I asks still icing my cake.

"Yup, gimme a sec," Ellie grabs some small buckets of the fondant and mixes them together for me with food coloring before rolling it out.

"You`re the best," I say, taking the sugaring substance from my friend.

"Of course. I still owe you for helping me with that pirate cake." She places some green fondant over the small circular cake and soothes it out, as I do.

"Will, you`ve got a friend up here!" Adam calls from the front. I quickly place my cake in the freezer before heading around the bend to meet my visitor.

"Maybe its Victor." Ellie whispers before I leave. I know that it won`t be, but her comment gets my hopes up anyways. I`m a bit sad to see that it`s only Mark.

"Hey Will, how`s it goin?" He asks looping an arm around me.

"Uh, good I guess. What`re you doing here?" It`s odd that Mark shows up at the shop; he never has before.

"Well, I wanted to know if you were doing anything tonight, so we could go out to Mance`s for his b-day bash." He looks away, almost shyly. An act that is very unlike Mark. "We don`t have to stay long or anything so-"

"That`s cool, I`ll go. Ellie`s the closer tonight so I can probably leave in a half hour or so," I mention smiling up at his golden features. He kisses my forehead gently and winks before leaving the store. When I return to the back to put my supplies away, Ellie keeps looking at me slyly.

"Seems like Mr. Med School wants to be more than just fuck buddies. I`d hate to see how he reacts to your new friend."

"Me too, but it was him after all who didn`t want to date."

"Why`s that?" She asks putting a finished lime green cake with flowers on it in the freezer.

"Because his parents will throw a fit if he marries anything less than English Royalty," I answer rolling my eyes. "That`s ok, he`s too high maintenance for me anyways, I think. Too high strung, I need someone more laid back and not so. . . pretentious. He`s a good friend and all, and great in the sack, but I honestly don`t think I could have a relationship with him."

"Hence the whole fuck buddy thing," Ellie laughs as I take my apron off.

"My feelings exactly."

. . .

The party is boisterous and massive at the mansion Mance lives at. I`ve only met the birthday boy himself twice and briefly at that, but Mark and him are good friends who`ve gone through med school the whole way through together. In fact, most of the people grinding and dancing with one another are unfamiliar to me, but the alcohol is free, so who am I to complain? I dance with Mark mostly, but when some of his friends call him upstairs, I let him go while I explore the party. A group of people smoke pot in the corner, laughing in the haze of a grey fog that surrounds them. I turn to the kitchen where the keg is, but have had enough of beer and want something more potent. My hands shuffle through empty cupboards until I find my prize. Cuervo tequila. I twist off the plastic cap and drink a bit straight from the bottle, until my head spins and the low grade tequila burns in my throat.

"Damn, you`re gonna kiss the floor if you keep goin like that!" A voice calls from behind me. The owner is short but built well, with a blue and white sports t-shirt on and jersey shorts.

"You don`t know me well, if you assume that."

"Then maybe you want something that will?" He lifts an eyebrow, coming closer and letting the light drift over his features. He`s good looking but not exceptionally, with broad shoulders and a cute smile. I`m not interested in trouble tonight, but am curious for whatever potent drink he can provide that`s worse than tequila.

"I`m Willow," I say, offering a hand for him to shake.

"Ah, Mark`s told me about you. Devron," he offers before leading me up the circling stairs. It is a long trek to the top and as we near the fourth floor, the pulsating music down below fades to murmur of sound twisting up the steps.

"You`re in school with Mark, then?" I ask now that we can hear each other speak.

"Yeah, for the past two semesters now." He stops at a dark wooden door at the top of the stairs before gesturing to me. While smoothing a hand across my back he pushes the door open revealing the true party occurring inside. Some people smoke and drink in groups around the room while others sleep in a heap on the carpeted floor, having partied too hard. I see bare bodies entwined in the back of the room and hear their groans of ecstasy over the noise of people. A girl approaches me, her hand closed tight around an object.

"All people up here are required to take these," she says in a bored voice, placing two little green pills in my hand.

"What are they?" I ask, looking from Devron to the blonde woman delivering the pills.

"Don`t bore me with your questions just take them. You`ll have a good time." She walks away then, disappearing in the throng of people.

"She`s right you know; these will make you higher than a cloud. Then I can take you to see Mark," Devron mentions winking at me.

"I think it would be best if I saw him now," I growl, moving past the brut that led me into this trap. He struggles to catch up when I push through the mass of swaying people and quickly I lose Devron. It is only when I get close to the pit of people grinding in the middle of the room that I notice how strange the party goers seem to be acting. Their words are slurred as if they can`t even understand themselves and their limbs move about wildly, their owners uncaring where they go. I slip past the sweaty couple fucking in a corner to a back room hidden by the crowd. When I push the door open, I feel instantly that something is wrong, the emotion growing in my gut with dread. Mark is there, laughing and snorting on the floor, acting as drunk as everyone else. Only Mark has a trail of blood dripping from his head.

"Jesus Christ, we should get you to a hospital," I yell bounding over to him. I pull some tissues from a box on the table of the room and place them gently against his head. Mark swings at my wrist drunkenly, knocking the gesture away. His arms find a way around my waist and pull me to him before he kisses me hard on the mouth. A hand snakes its way up my shirt, pulling at my bra and then my breasts. I push Mark away with all the strength I can manage.

"You didn`t take the pills did you?" He asks with bulging eyes that can`t manage to focus on any one thing.

"Don`t worry about me. We should get out of here, Mark." Again I pull at him trying to make the man follow me out of this hell-hole.

"Don`t be such a pr-ude Willow, it`s so much fun in here." Another man pulls me away from Mark, throwing pills down my throat. I choke and sputter on them until they accidentally slide down. The man squeezes me tighter to hold me in place as I struggle against him, trying to make myself vomit out the pills. It is to no avail. I feel the dizziness sweep over in an anxious haze, my heart about to pound out of my chest. Mark is next to me, kissing my mouth while tearing at my clothes, and some of his friends help as well: I feel their hands on me. Then I am flying away from the aggressive men. The arms around me hold tight, protective, not groping. Faces of party-goers fly past, glancing at us with shocked expressions or not at all. I can`t tell exactly who carries me; his face is covered in shadow. Cool air wafts over me, jolting me awake in the man`s arms. Strange, I don`t remember falling asleep.

"Where are your keys," he asks faintly, setting me down on cold concrete. I reach into my shorts but find the clothing missing, as well as my keys.

"Check the mat under the door," I whisper at my savior before the light fades to an empty black.

. . .

Victor

The little Snow White sleeps peacefully against my chest, her mouth slightly agape allowing languid breaths to pass between her lips. She is lovely as all of her ancestors have been; I should know, I`ve seen every one of them. She is the epitome of what Snow White was so many years ago with the rich black hair flowing in perfect curls down Willow`s back, skin pale like snow, and lips a swollen red, as if the girl had been eating cherries all day to stain her mouth. The carbon copy of Madelin Thurzo has the same high cheeks lightly colored and defined but still soft in some way. I trace her pretty cheeks with my finger for a moment. It seems her skin is as soft as it looks; smooth and creamy like warm milk. Willow`s body is young and elastic with seductive curves around her breasts and hips. She is truly blessed to be so endowed, most women cannot say the same without surgery these days. . . My companion's features even remind me of mother slightly, her face is aristocratic-looking and her hair was obviously inherited from Thurzo`s family, and therefore my mother`s. We are kin, this girl and I, but still I wish to bring her death. It is lucky for me that she is distant from her family. She is the first descendant of Snow White that I have managed to get close to. Her family would recognize me as they have in the past and stop this pursuit. They know I wish to end the line that destroyed my mother`s reputation and tore me from her.

I could kill this little rat. I could do it for mother. A blue vein in the girl`s throat calls to me, the smooth skin begging to be tasted, but I resist the thoughts. Mother could be alive and she would be furious if I took this delight from her. But I can deliver this delightful prize. If only I could find the Blood Countess herself. When the ruinous castle was raided by German soldiers in the 1940`s, it was said that there was a skeleton found in the tallest tower. I know this to be true, only not completely. Men were reported deceased from an "accident" on site but I know Erzsebet (Elisabeth) was responsible. I can feel her presence lurking somewhere in the world, faint and weary, but awake all the same. I can find Mother and bring her the girl so we can be together as we once were, killing young victims and acting as political leaders for cover.

A sweet smell tears me from my mind, arousing a primal need in my gut that erases rational thoughts. Blood drips slow and tantalizing from the cut on the girl`s head, red and rich in the moonlight. The girl must have bashed her head when those men attacked her. Mother would not mind me taking just one small taste of her. . . Brazenly, I touch my finger to the cut letting the blood swell on my finger in one large droplet. The girl`s memories flood me when the red swirls on my tongue, fogging my head. I see a familiar woman, the grandmother that I romanced many years ago who was warned by her family to stay away, now old where she was once so young and lithe, with silver hair instead of black, telling stories about my whore Mother, or so the woman says. This burns me, as it always does when Mother is referred to as such, but my interest in Willow`s past stays any anger that flares with the comments. Her life is normal for today`s world with skateboard mishaps, a broken family split across countries, abandoned ruins that she visits, first loves, and the stereotypical University life full of sex and alcohol. This small realization surprises me since I was expecting someone more innocent, although I could tell she was no virgin from the moment I lapped eyes on the girl. I had seen her fucking the drunken rich boy. Yet there are qualities I can see she hides from others such as the secret romantic in her, wishing Mark would sweep her off her feet and defy his parents. Of all people she fancies him. . .

She employs a hard working side at her job that she loves more than she lets on, as shown by the long nights perfecting decorating techniques in her kitchen. And the constant stories of Snow White and Elisabeth Bathory bother her almost as much as they do myself. Her inward cringe is apparent in all recent conversation about her heritage. I am pulled from her memories, staring at Willow`s slumbering form once more. I wish to consume more of the girl, but remember Mother, and the wrath that would come if she found out that I had even tasted the sweet blood. It is our little secret, I think petting her lovely hair.

My imagination stirs when I picture how Mother will react to this treasure. She can be so sweet, then cruel and kind again by turn but this would please her, I know. I prefer her emotions to my father`s indifference any day. He seemed almost ashamed of me after Mother`s incarceration, abashed at my hate for life. Alucard he calls himself now, not Vlad or Dracula as it was in the old days, when he wouldn`t dream of working for humans. Dracula exists in my memory as a ghostly terror in the night drinking and killing as cruelly as he wanted, acting as my mentor in the ways of the Nosferatu and building on the spells that Davula taught me as a vampire still growing. Now, he is a Hellsing dog bent on killing his own kind with the same cruelty that punished humans once upon a time. It is strange what God does to a man. Alucard may come out of hiding to protect this family line as well. It would make for an interesting family reunion. . .

She stirs in my arms, her mind leaving its dreamlike state. I place her on the couch covering her nakedness with my leather jacket. This would be best if she did not believe I was raping her. With that in mind I fetch the girl a glass of water from the kitchen, playing the caring friend.

"Victor?" She says groggily while slowly arching herself up from the furniture.

"It`s all right, I`m right here," I whisper next to her. Her eyes light up when she spots me: It is so easy seducing Willow. The ecstasy still exists as a flash in her eyes and I can tell it disorients her more than the knock to her head. She grasps my hand tightly.

"What happened exactly?" She asks putting a hand to her forehead and leaning back on the couch, her black lacy bra showing the ripped remnants of her shirt.

"I saw those men harassing you and I didn`t want them to. . . touch you again so I took you home. It wasn`t until I was carrying you in the street that I realized who you were," I reply making my voice low and alluring. A sweet trap.

"How did you know where I lived?"

"You told me the way, weary as you were."

She buys the lie without a second thought. "I`m glad you were there; it`s hard to imagine what may have happened if you hadn`t jumped in."

"Anytime." I run my fingers over her forehead to amplify the intimacy. A dark stain crosses her cheek, noting her shyness. Power courses through me targeting the girl, yet when I test the mind control, the flow dies and strikes back at me making my head spin.

"Are you ok?" The girl asks in a flurry, rising from the couch when I fall back slightly.

"I`m fine," I bite back, irritation apparent. It seems my magic is stunted by her or something she wears. A charm or such. No matter, she is enthralled enough in my company, this new development will make for a more challenging victim. Willow comes over to help me but in the process only distracts me further. Her breasts appear amidst the torn clothing, alluring me as I have not been allured in over a hundred years. White and ripe are her smooth lean sides with her sex only covered by the thin lacy clothing, taught pale legs folded under her. She would let me have her body would I express my yearning, which is clear enough by the tug in my jeans. The beautiful girl hovers over me as I am sprawled out on the ground, obtuse to her exposed body tantalizing my thoughts. Her odd green eyes follow my stare as I consider her curves until she realizes her lack of clothes.

She folds in to cover herself and pulls my coat from the couch. "Sorry," Willow squeaks, a deep burgundy haze speckled on her cheeks.

"Don`t be; I`m not sorry." I smile over at her, just barely showing teeth, then turning serious. "You should drink, you`re still not feeling well." A pale dainty hand reaches for the water, listening to my warning. She seems to struggle with words, unsure of what to say.

"I- how did you know I was related to Elisabeth Bathory?" She asks, referring to how we parted on our last meeting.

"Most people who are from that town are of some relation to her. Besides you have that look about you." She smiles at that. "Except for the eyes. They are much different from the lineage in most of Slovakia and Hungary." I reach out to trace her eye brow, memorizing the hazy light colors that strike me so well along her pupils.

"My mother`s eyes are brown as are my grandmothers. But my father has green eyes like mine." Odd, Madelin Thurzo had rare eyes as well, blue if memory serves correctly. "Different sides of the family." She is reluctant to admit her father that deserted her at a young age to move to America.

"They are lovely," I whisper about her eyes, the first truth all evening. Our gazes meet suddenly and she lifts a hand to remove my glasses. A pale hand snakes out to catch hers. "No," I laugh gently at Willow.

"I`m sure yours are lovely, please," she begs tilting her head.

"Soon enough, sweet one," I say kissing her knuckle. Willow looks away, embarrassed once again. My senses dull as dawn approaches. "And I should leave, it`s far past my bedtime. . ." I push myself up from the ground and lend the slight girl a hand as if I were some chivalrous knight. She moves to hand me my jacket before I raise a hand in protest. "Keep it for now. Let it serve as a reminder for Friday night, if you aren't previously engaged?"

At my proposal her mouth drops slightly, surprised by the fast spur of events between us. "I don`t work that day so yeah we can go out," she says nervously.

"Great then," I smile down at her. "I`ll be here around 8:30, when the sun is down." Her face grants me a smile and I forget to resist the urges she awakens. My hand traces over her face, her smooth neck, to finally rest on her collarbone. Delicately, I pull the girl closer. I lean close and taste her mouth, soft and luscious beneath my own. She folds into my arms, resting against my thin shirt and moans softly when my tongue flicks out to taste her skin. Her kisses are gentle, yet I can tell she wants more, and shamefully so do I. I wish to feel her body quake and moan beneath my fingers but have enough sense to stop at a kiss. It appears the girl may have some power. I lean away, inwardly reluctant, and hold the small girl before turning to the door. "Be safe, little Willow," I whisper at her. I`ll be watching.

She stands in the middle of the room clad in only her underclothes and my coat, trembling still though I walk away. I smell her want, but also the slight undercurrent of fear. This should be fun. . .