Author's Note: The fic's previous "alternate ending" has now become the official ending.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan. I have, however, grown up.

It only took a few days to reclaim the mansion. Richard had allowed things to fall into such disarray that most of the staff welcomed any sort of authorative change, so that when Integra stepped forward to reclaim the estate that was rightfully hers, they did not object too strongly. Of course, this did not matter as those that had stood by Richard were dismissed and then blacklisted from any other job and so had to try their fortune overseas, and those that had not supported him stayed on board as though nothing had ever changed.

Integra sent letters to her father's old business associates, and they were so delighted by her growth as a leader that they pledged to support her forever after. Only Sir Irons did not welcome her back with a hearty handshake; yet he was the first to respond to her letter. In fact, he responded within the hour, and called upon her the next day. He looked over her with critical eyes, and for the first time since her return, Integra felt small and dirty.

"So, you have finally returned," Sir Irons said when they met in person.

"Indeed, I have," Sir Integra said, with her hands behind her back and her eyes cast down bashfully. At the nudge of the Captain, Integra stood up straight and looked him in the eye.

"I have learned a lot about being a leader overseas," Integra said, without flinching, "But I still have much to learn about running an estate, and I hope you shall help me in the months to come."

For the first time since she could remember, Sir Irons smiled. "I shall be delighted, for the daughter of Arthur."

They shook hands over the gentlemen's agreement, and from that day on Sir Irons remained her most trusted advisor.

I hope you want to know what became of the other boys. They were waiting below to give Integra time to explain about them; and when they had counted five hundred they went up to the study. They went up by the stair, because they thought this would make a better impression. They stood in a row in front of Sir Irons, with their hats off, and wishing they were not wearing their pirate clothes. They said nothing, but their eyes asked him to have them.

Of course Integra said at once that she would find homes for them; but Sir Irons was curiously stern, and they saw that he considered six a rather large number.

"I must say," he said to Integra, "that you don't do things by halves," a grudging remark which the twins thought was pointed at them.

The first twin was the proud one, and he asked, flushing, "Do you think we should be too much of a handful, sir? Because, if so, we can go away."

"Sir Irons!" Integra cried, shocked; but still the cloud was on him. He knew he was behaving unfairly, but he could not help it.

"We could lie doubled up," said Pip.

"I always cut their hair myself," said Integra.

Then he sighed heavily, and the truth came out. He was as glad to have them as she was, he said, but he was not sure he could get all of them adopted.

"I hope you don't think me a cypher," he said to Integra.

"I don't think he is a cypher," Pip cried instantly. "Do you think he is a cypher, Jan?"

"Fuck no! Do you think he is a cypher, Walter?"

"Rather not. Twin, what do you think?"

It turned out that not one of them thought him a cypher; and he was rather gratified, and said he would find space for them all in the drawing-room in the mean time if they fitted in.

"We'll fit in, sir," they assured him.

"Then follow the leader," he said pleasantly. "Mind you, I am not sure where the drawing-room is, but we shall search until we find it. Hoop la!"

He went off searching through the mansion, and they all cried "Hoop la!" and danced after him, searching for the drawing-room; and I forget whether they found it, but at any rate they found corners, and they all fitted in. Integra, for her part, was proud that they had found Sir Irons' inner child at last, however briefly it shined.

As for Alucard, he saw Integra once again before he flew away. He did not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it in passing so that she could open it if she liked and call to him. That is what she did.

"Hullo, Integra, good-bye," he said.

"Oh dear, are you going away?"

"Yes."

"You don't feel, Alucard," she said falteringly, "that you would like to say anything to Sir Irons about a very sweet subject?"

"No."

"About me, Alucard?"

"No."

Sir Irons came to the window, for at present he was keeping a sharp eye on Integra. He told Alucard that he had arranged to find parents to adopt all the other boys, and would like to adopt him out also.

"Would they send me to school?" he inquired craftily.

"Yes."

"And then to an office?"

"I suppose so."

"Soon I would be a man?"

"Very soon."

"I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things," he told them passionately. "I don't want to be a man. O Sir Irons, if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard!"

"Alucard," said Integra the comforter, "I should love you in a beard"; and Sir Irons stretched out his hand to him, but he repulsed the man.

"Keep back, old man, no one is going to catch me and make me a man like you."

"But where are you going to live?"

"With Rip in the house we built for Integra. The fairies are to put it high up among the tree tops where they sleep at nights."

"How lovely," cried Integra so longingly that Sir Iron tightened his grip.

"I thought all the fairies were dead," Sir Irons said.

"There are always a lot of young ones," explained Integra, who was now quite an authority, "because you see when a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are."

Rip answered impudently to this and flew away.

"I shall have such fun," said Alucard, with eye on Integra.

"It will be rather lonely in the evening," she said, "sitting by the fire."

"I shall have Rip."

"Rip can't go a twentieth part of the way round," she reminded him a little tartly.

"Sneaky tell-tale!" Rip called out from round the corner.

"It doesn't matter," Alucard said.

"O Alucard, you know it matters."

"Well, then, come with me to the little house."

"May I, Sir Irons?"

"Certainly not. You have returned home again, and now it is your duty to remain."

"But he does so need looking after."

"So does this estate, my dear."

"Oh, all right," Alucard said, as if he had asked her from politeness merely; but Sir Irons saw his mouth twitch, and knew that if Alucard had his way the madness would begin again, and so he made this handsome offer: to let Integra go to him for a week every year to do his spring cleaning. Integra would have preferred a more permanent arrangement; and it seemed to her that spring would be long in coming; but this promise sent Alucard away quite gay again. He had no sense of time, and was so full of adventures that all I have told you about him is only a halfpenny-worth of them. I suppose it was because Integra knew this that her last words to him were these rather plaintive ones:

"Don't forget me, Alucard, before spring cleaning time comes."

Of course Alucard promised; and then he flew away. He took Integra's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else, Alucard took quite easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.

Of course all the boys were adopted out to Sir Irons' business associates—all but Walter, who insisted on staying in the Hellsing Estate as Integra's butler—and went to school; and most of them got into Class III, but Luke was put first into Class IV and then into Class V. Class I is the top class. Before they had attended school a week they saw what goats they had been not to remain on the island; but it was too late now, and soon they settled down to being as ordinary as you or me or Jenkins minor. It is sad to have to say that the power to fly gradually left them. At first their parents tied their feet to the bed-posts so that they should not fly away in the night; and one of their diversions by day was to pretend to fall off buses; but by and by they ceased to tug at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when they let go of the bus. In time they could not even fly after their hats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant was that they no longer believed.

Walter believed longer than the other boys, though they jeered at him; so he was with Integra when Alucard came for her early the first year. It is a good thing he did, for he would have been late otherwise. She flew away with Alucard in the frock she had woven from leaves and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he might notice how short it was becoming; but he never noticed, he had so much to say about himself.

She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about old times, but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.

"Who is Father Andersen?" he asked with interest when she spoke of the arch enemy.

"Don't you remember," she asked, amazed, "how you killed him and saved all our lives?"

"I forget them after I kill them," he replied carelessly.

When she expressed a doubtful hope that Rip Van Winkle would be glad to see her he said, "Who is Rip Van Winkle?"

"O Alucard," she said, shocked; but even when she explained he could not remember.

"There are such a lot of them," he said. "I expect she has moved on."

I expect he was right, for fairies don't stay in one place long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them.

Integra was pained too to find that the past year was but as yesterday to Alucard; it had seemed quite a long time of waiting to her. She broached the subject of a more frequent arrangement - err, but not too often, as she was quite busy with the mansion and simply could not get away for too long. They discussed a great deal over what should be done, but in the end they decided on spring cleaning and autumn harvest. Twice a year seemed so much more bearable than once that Integra felt a great ease of mind, and she was able to enjoy their visit. He was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely "spring" cleaning in the little house on the tree tops-though because Alucard was early, it was more like winter wrap-up.

Next year he arrived with a new companion that put Integra in quite a huff. It was Seras Victoria, the so-called picaninny* of the Millennium War Tribe! Integra could barely suppress her indignation at being greeted after being kept waiting half a year by the sight of Alucard holding the little savage like a bride. Alucard explained quite gaily that Millennium had declared war on him and then turned on Seras when she tried to remain loyal. They had hunted her down with one of the Witch Doctor's vampires into a church that was built by Yumiko, and would have surely killed her if Alucard had not swooped in at the last minute.

"I hope you killed the vampire, at least," Integra said.

"Of course, my master," Alucard said gaily, "But now Seras needs a place to stay, as the Neverland is no longer safe for her."

"You aren't thinking of keeping her here!"

"It's only until Millennium is defeated," he said.

Integra agreed, though very reluctantly, and Seras was left with the tender loving care of the Captain while Integra went off to defeat Millennium with Alucard. It was far less glamorous than she remembered, as Millennium was far more savage and repulsive than the lawyers she was used to dealing with at home, and she soon found herself wishing to return to her quiet little office to fill out paperwork and have tea in front of the fire; yet when they returned he had forgotten to take Seras Victoria with him! Integra tried to call him back, but he was long gone; she would have care for Seras until his return in half a year's time.

Seras did not take to being civilized in the least. It took many moons to get Seras to agree to stop stalking around on all fours in the garden, or even to stop dancing naked under the full moon. Dressing her was no easier, as Seras refused to clean off the war paint on her face, or to grow out her hair, or wear outer layers of day clothing, as pajamas and undergarments were far more comfortable. Even the Captain did not have the patience for Seras that he had had for Integra, and after the two got into such a row that Seras walked with a sling and a limp for several weeks, Integra found it a necessity to do what her father never would: to hire a governess. They went through quite a few before they found one strict enough to keep the savage in line, and Seras soon learned to replace her war paint with hair ribbons, her animal skins with day clothes, and her snarls with unhappy whimpers after her meals were withheld; but at last she learned to behave.

Next autumn and spring Alucard never came. Integra waited in a new frock because the old one simply would not meet; but he simply did not come. They were on a schedule, and Integra did not like to be kept at the window when she had more pressing matters to attend. Walter waited with her by the windowsill the entire time, and Seras bounced on her toes.

"Perhaps he is ill," Walter said.

"You know he is never ill."

Seras, who by then was passable enough to share their council, asked despairingly, "Why does he not come?"

"I'm sure he is very busy," Integra said crisply, though her eyes implored the stars to reveal his whereabouts.

Then Seras came close to her and whined, "I want to go home!"

"I want you to go home too," Integra replied curtly.

Her words wounded Seras, who knew by this point that she was not wanted anywhere, and who from then on did not wish to return at all. Why would she? Her own tribe was trying to kill her, her new tribe was trying to get rid of her, and her desired husband did not even remember her. Did she even exist? Was any of it ever real? Was her brother's insistence that he was everywhere and nowhere merely a projection of her subconscious trying to tell her that she was not anywhere?

Then Seras leaned over and whispered, with a shiver, "Perhaps there is no such person, Integra!" and then Integra would have cried if Seras had not been crying.

Walter, Integra and Seras grew very close in the following year, as they were the only children by now who remembered the Neverland and kept its magic alive in their hearts. They enjoyed thrilling talks of old times, and went to the balcony to blow on the stars so they flickered and danced like candlelight. Seras was genius at catching them in jars, and they were able to create a tent from Integra's coverlets, where they laughed and talked of magical times via starlight.

Alucard came next season; and the strange thing was that he never knew he had missed a year. Do not judge Alucard too harshly, for have I not said snon that time works differently in Neverland than on the main land, as there are only suns and moons to tell the time, and there are ever so many more than on the mainland? What's more, you will remember the crocodile's clock was once the only reliable way to tell the time, and it had long run out, as well as the crocodile. To make matters worse, you will remember that the Neverland's seasons depended entirely on Alucard's mood. When he is feeling particularly sunny, the summer does shine; or, when he is feeling quite gloomy, the most gloomy winter settles over the land. Since Alucard is quite careless and his moods unreliable, a single summer on the Neverland can last three years on the mainland; or, perhaps, a whole autumn in a single day, or skip a winter altogether to go straight into spring.

So, while Alucard was arriving during the appropriate seasons for the Neverland, he could not help how time does move on the mainland.

Never the less, Integra demanded that he aim for every season rather than merely spring and autumn, as his tardiness was becoming increasingly unprofessional and she simply would not tolerate such behavior in her house! She was on a schedule and would not suspend important business ventures for his careless antics!

"You sound just like a grown up, Integra," Alucard laughed, and flew on.

This gave Integra pause. She did, indeed, sound like a grown up.

That was the last time the girl Integra ever saw him. For a little longer she tried for his sake not to have growing pains; and she felt she was untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. But the months came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met again Integra was a grown woman, and Alucard was a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys. Integra was grown up. You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.

All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely worth while saying anything more about them. You may see the twins any day going to an office, each carrying a little bag and an umbrella. Luke and Jan's parents moved to build railroads in America, but the two returned a year ago to open a Jazz Dance Club in the heart of London. You see that soldier standing outside the club waiting to dance the night away, and the young lady with bobbed hair and a flapper dress? That is Pip and Seras. Pip became a mercenary for a French company and returned to find Seras working as a lady's maid for Integra. He laughed to see the once "proud picanniny princess" reduced to a prim, proper, prudish English lady, and she was so vexed by his mockery that she broke his nose in response. They were married within the year.

As for Walter? He remained by Integra's side all the way to the altar.

She was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange to think that Alucard did not alight in the church and forbid the banns.

Years rolled on again, and Seras had many children. She had married young and started breeding early. Much to everyone's surprise, she was a loving wife and a doting mother, despite her upbringing in the savage war tribe and rather cold Hellsing household. Most expected her to tie a rope to their ankles and sling them on her back as was custom in her tribe, or to make them track her down after leaving them out in the wild, or weeding out the weak ones with a scythe. Heavens to Betsy! She could not have been further from the Millennium mothers, and without even trying!

She was an exceedingly affectionate mother that treated all of her children like they were the most precious treasures in the world, and it was hard not to admire her for it because it seemed she was bringing new children into the world every spring. She and Pip had so many babies that his men often joked that every time their captain hung up his trousers, his wife spontaneously conceived. Integra secretly thought of the old saying "the rich get richer, and the poor get more babies." Never the less, the two did not seem to mind having more children, and through careful planning they managed to live quite happily with all them, with plenty of milk to spare.

How they managed to afford them all was anyone's guess, for, apart from the occasional visit to the Hellsing Estate, the two refused charity of any kind. It was hard to believe that once they could barely think of having one, let alone two or three.

"We're going to keep this child no matter what," he assured her, "But we will have to be careful with every penny. Now don't interrupt," he would order. "I have one pound seventeen here, and two and six at the army; I can cut off my coffee at the office, say ten shillings, making two nine and six, with your eighteen and three makes three nine seven, with five naught in my cheque-book makes eight nine seven - who is that moving? - eight nine seven, dot and carry seven-don't speak, mon cher-and the pound you lent to that man who came to the door-hush, mon bebe-dot and carry child - there, you've done it! - did I say nine nine seven? Yes, I said nine nine seven; the question is, can we try it for a year on nine nine seven?"

"Of course we can, dear," Seras cried. But she was prejudiced in her daughter's favour, and he was really the grander character of the two.

"Remember mumps," he warned her sternly as a military captain warns of bombs, and off he went again. "Mumps one pound, that is what I have put down, but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings-don't speak-measles one five, German measles half a guinea, makes two fifteen six-don't snub your so pretty nose-whooping-cough, say fifteen shillings"-and so on it went, and it added up differently each time; but at last their child just got through, with mumps reduced to twelve six, and the two kinds of measles treated as one.

There was the same excitement over the next child, and the third had even a narrower squeak; but all were kept, and soon, you might have seen the three of them going in a row to Miss Fulsom's Kindergarten school, accompanied by their beaming mother.

By the sixth child, Pip had quite thrown up his hands and said, "We'll make it fit."

Integra secretly wondered how they managed to fit all of those children in such a small apartment. Perhaps they had space for them all in the drawing-room if they fitted in. Then again, Integra was not sure that they even had a drawing-room, but she suspected they pretended they had one. With Seras and Pip being who they were and where they came from, she figured it's all the same to them. The Neverland never did go completely out of them.

As for Integra, she went about running the estate with an eye forever at the windowsill. She told herself that this was the life she wanted and could desire nothing more, yet every night she found herself looking out at the same star that winked at her on that fateful night so long ago. She kept the nursery in order despite having no use for it, having no children of her own. She sometimes let Seras bring her brood into the Hellsing Estate for visits and holidays, for she now regarded the girl as family, and let them play in the nursery, where they all retold the stories that kept the magic of the Neverland alive in their hearts.

It was on one such a visit that things changed in the Neverland forever. It was a warm spring night, and Seras had just finished putting the last to bed, and Integra couldn't help making a wry face as she watched her coo over them.

"I must say you don't do things by halfs," Integra said, thinking of Sir Irons long ago.

"Thank you!" Seras cried, with a glowing smile.

Integra hadn't the heart to tell her that wasn't a compliment.

"If they're too much of a handful," Seras said, helpfully, "I could take them home before putting them to bed, if you like."

"Nonsense," Integra said, "This old house has gone without the laughter of children for far too long. Besides, their smiles keep me young."

Seras smiled sympathetically, "I take it master hasn't returned yet?"

"No!" Integra burst out, "It's been years, and that little git hasn't shown head nor shadow of himself!"

"You could go to the Neverland without him. Second to whichever right you wish, then straight on till morning."

"I tried, but the magic quite failed me."

"I see."

"I wish you had told me that when I was still young and able to fly," Integra continued peevishly, "Now I can't lift an inch."

"I thought you already knew!" Seras cried, "Besides, there's no reason it shouldn't work for you. Mind over matter, as my husband always says. It's all in your head."

"You and I both know that only children can fly."

"Only those who believe can fly, you mean," Seras grinned. "And all of those young at heart can believe. You're just so hard on yourself. It's hard to let happy thoughts lift you up when you feel so weighted down. Just let your worries go away; go on. It'll be like releasing a balloon."

"… I suppose that's how you rediscovered the magic of Neverland," Integra grumbled, a little childishly. "You elope with that mercenary, took a right on Picadilly Circus in the wee hours of the morning, and there it unfolds for you, like the sun rising."

"You mustn't say it like that!" Seras cried, "It could work for you too! You just need to be open to it!"

"… No, it's for the best," Integra finally said, "I'm quite sure he's forgotten all about me, and if he hasn't, then I'm sure there's a reason he no longer returns to me. I have too many responsibilities to discard for a careless boy who cannot keep track of his own shadow."

"Aw, come on!" Seras cried, "I could take you to the Neverland! See? I can even dress up like Master Alucard—"

Integra boxed her ears.

"OW! What was that for?!"

"Don't even joke about something like that! And where is Alucard, anyway?! It's been years! How long does he intend to dally? I thought you said he was coming back?!"

"He will," Seras assured her kindly, "He will come back. I know because I am a native of Neverland. See?" she pointed to the pale skin of her neck, with veins that seemed to have a silvery sheen, "I can feel its magic coursing through me, as though it were my own blood."

Integra was quite silent. "Be that as it may, I am not descended from the Neverland, and I cannot go back now that it's over."

"Don't talk like that! How you do go on. One minute you think that he is better off gone and the next you are impatient to have him back!"

After Seras had finally coaxed Integra into bed, insisting that she was just cranky because she was tired and just needed a little nape, for, like the Captain before her, knew that children rarely truly threw tantrums over the things they were truly upset about. Integra had stubbornly insisted that she was not the least bit tired even as her eyes drooped with it, and she finally relented, rather petulantly, that she would rest her eyes only for a moment. Seras agreed that it would only be for a moment, and then smiled in rather self-satisfaction when Integra fell dead asleep in the same bed in which Alucard had discovered her long ago.

With all of her children and Integra thus put to bed, Seras stayed up the night and was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, so as to see to thread, for there was no fairy light in the nursery tonight; and while she sat she heard a crow. Then the window blew open as of old, and Alucard dropped in on the floor.

He was exactly the same as ever, and Seras saw at once that he still had all his first teeth.

"Hullo, Seras," he said, not noticing any difference, for he was thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light her white dress might have been the nightgown in which he had seen her last.

"Hullo, Alucard," she replied softly, keeping as still as possible.

"Is Integra asleep?" he asked, with a careless look over his shoulder.

"Yes," she answered.

"Hullo, is it a new one?" Alucard said, pointing to the bed.

"No," she said truthfully.

"Really? She looks bigger."

"That's because she is."

Silence fell between them. Seras hoped he would understand, but not a bit of it.

"Alucard," she said, faltering, "are you expecting Integra to fly away with you?"

"Of course; that is why I have come." He added a little sternly, "Have you forgotten that this is spring cleaning time?"

She knew it was useless to say that he had let many spring cleaning times pass.

"I don't think she can come," she said, "At least, not at present. I think she has forgotten how to fly."

"I'll soon teach her again."

"O Alucard, I think you'll need much more fairy dust than the last."

"What are you on about?" he demanded.

There was no way this was going to be easy. Well, better tell him sooner than later, she thought.

She rose; and now at last a fear assailed him. "What is it?" he cried, shrinking.

"I think it will be easier if I turn up the light," she said, "and then you can see for yourself."

For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Alucard was afraid. "Don't turn up the light," he cried.

She smiled at him fondly, and let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She was not a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a married woman with children of her own, and smiling at it all.

"Trust me," she smiled.

Then she turned up the light, and Alucard saw. He gave a cry of pain; and when the tall beautiful creature stooped to take his hand he drew back sharply.

"What is it?" he cried again. "Where's Integra?"

She had to tell him.

"Integra grew up, Alucard."

"She promised not to!"

"She couldn't help it. None of us could. We waited and waited and you never came."

"Yes I did! She's an old nanny, Alucard."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is. She and I and Walter. And Pip and I have married now."

"No, you haven't!"

"And the great tall woman in that bed is Integra."

"No, she's not."

But he supposed she was; and he took a step towards her with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down on the floor instead and sobbed. Seras looked pained by his grief, yet smiled knowingly, as a mother who knows the grief of her child now is a necessary step to discovering an even greater joy.

When Alucard had finally ceased to cry, he discovered to his dismay that he had not forgotten it right away, and felt himself truly desolate. Grief like this was why he had chosen to cast off the trappings of adulthood like a cumbersome suit of armor, yet here it was, forever sinking him.

"She's been waiting for you for the longest time," Seras said, the kind one, "And there she is, asleep in the bed."

And that was how Seras brought Alucard to Integra, the same way she had done for him and the Never bird long ago.

Alucard looked on Integra, and found, for the first time, just how beautiful she was. His sorrow was instantly forgotten. He stared at her long and long.

"I shall give her a kiss," he said, and pulled out the acorn button she had worn on a chain, long ago.

A sudden fear seized Seras.

"No, Alucard! No buttons, no thimbles! If that's all you mean to give, I can't bear to think how her heart would break anew when she realizes she can't keep you!"

"No, I mean…" Alucard said, and lost himself to Integra. "A real kiss."

And then, just as he had wanted when he first looked on Integra years and years ago—before Sir Hellsing and the Captain had stopped him and kept him perpetuating the same unhappy cycle that left him feeling even more sad and empty and alone after the children he sought as friends were long dead and grown, and so sought out more children only to later feel even more sad and empty and alone when time brought them children of their own—Alucard leaned over Integra as she slept, and gave her a kiss on her lips.

While he did so, Integra dreamt that the Afterlife had come too near and that an unhappy man with the heart of a child had broken through from it. She saw that he had rent the film that obscures the Afterlife, and she was peeping through the gap.

When Integra opened her eyes, he was as big as his shadow.