Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing... not technically anyway.

So, for those of you who remember me, my former profile was AnonymousPsychofan, but I seem to have lost the login information, so I resorted to uploading my latest story on this profile instead. It's been a while, and my writing style has hopefully improved. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this story! Please R&R!

Story Summary: A vampire without a voice. A voice without a body. And Seras is the only bridge between them. In exchange for what she desires most, she must act as translator in an effort to reverse an ancient curse, and free her master. AxS.

I wish I could tell you where I got the inspiration for such a strange concept. I think it started with a poorly written Beauty & the Beast [Seras = beauty, Alucard = beast] fanfic, that spiraled into 1001 Transylvanian Nights that eventually ended like this. In past, my AxS stories have been mildly fluffy and unrealistic, so I wanted to put them into a scenario where their relationship could actually flourish in and in-character, realistic way. For those of you who aren't familiar with my work, my main character is always Seras, and she is always independent and capable, the way I see her when I read the mangas. I dislike her being portrayed as useless. Inexperienced? Sure. Useless? No. Timid? No. She struggles with hummanity and moral boundaries, not fear of the dark.

That's one of the reasons I hate the TV Anime. I love the Manga and the OVA, so that is the basis for most of my stories, though as you can probably tell this follows a completely different story line. Regrettable Integra, Walter, Millenium, etc. will not make an appearance in this tale. But I did manage to throw Pip in there. Well, enough of my ramblings. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Waste Not, Want Not

Pain. Hunger. Thirst.

Where am I?

No matter how many times she opened her eyes, all she could see was darkness. The feel of stone beneath her, damp and cold, chilled her very being. How long had she been there? She had lost track of time in the darkness. It might have been hours, it might have been days. She honestly didn't care. She honestly didn't mind dying.

"This is what comes of women in the armed forces! You think his death was an accident? If you hadn't misfired, Sean would still be here now!"

"Sir," Seras replied, fighting back tears. "I resign."

She lost her best friend. She lost her job. In one night. That was cause to leave right? Was running away really so wrong?

"I'm such an idiot," Seras Victoria muttered to no one in particular. "Such a worthless, pathetic idiot."

Of course, when speaking to no one in particular, it is safe to assume that a response is out of the question. Usually, at least.

From nowhere came a low purr, a voice like thunder and silk sewn together with threads of lust and hunger. It made every hair on her body stand on end, made her back curl as a shiver ran through it. It said, "Yes, it does take quite a talented person to walk down a dark alley in a foreign city, where no one could hear you scream..."

Seras was not sure if she should laugh or yell. After time spent alone in the dark, nursing a sore head and an empty stomach, she could not be entirely sure if she had imagined that voice. Certainly, it could have been a very critical, repressed side of her personality, but she had a feeling any of her thoughts would not have been spoken in such a deep (or seductive) voice.

In spite of her doubts, however, she decided that it couldn't hurt to reply. "Might I ask who I am speaking to?" she said plainly.

"You may," the voice allowed, sounding deeply amused.

"But I take it you won't tell me," she said flatly.

A pleased laugh filled the empty air. "Very clever, you worthless, pathetic idiot."

For a moment, Seras bristled at the insult, but then she recalled that she herself had used the harsh term in reference to herself only moments ago. Huffing, she said, "I have a name that I'm willing to share, even if you don't plan to do the same."

Another low chuckle from the voice and it asked, "Very well, human. What would you like to be called by?"

"I'm Seras," she replied. "Seras Victoria."

"What a lovely name," it decided. "I'd commit it to memory if I had one."

Seras frowned into the black. "What do you mean?" she couldn't help asking.

"Perhaps you could tell me... this memory you humans always speak of, as though it is something precious... what exactly is it? Is it merely the past?"

"Er," she said blankly. "Sort of. As in, we can't remember things that haven't happened yet."

"Remember, remember," the voice chided. "What a fascinating word. Very pleasant to say. So continue, girl. What sorts of memories do you have?"

What sorts of memories, she repeated to herself, sighing forlornly. For some reason, she could only remember the bad ones.

"I'm trying to forget mine," she replied.

"Yes, I've noticed some humans try to do that. Only the bad ones, they say. It seems futile. You can never forget, can you? But what I'm curious about... do you have to have a past to remember things?"

"Not exactly..." she decided after a moment's thought. "For instance, what is my name?"

"You called yourself both a worthless, pathetic idiot, and Seras Victoria," the voice replied automatically.

"Right," she said. "Because you remember me telling you those things."

"Ah, I see now!" the voice said, sounding very pleased with itself. "So I have a memory after all. Well, isn't that ironic?"

"Pardon me," she murmured, "But what exactly are you?"

"I?" the voice laughed. "Why would I explain myself to a mortal like you?"

"So you're an immortal," she said, tucking her legs into her chest.

"More or less," it agreed. "It's hard to die if you never existed in the first place."

"Do you know where I am?" she asked.

"Naturally," the voice replied. "You're on the Romanian coast. I've heard it's very beautiful, but physical things are of no use to me."

"Your voice is physical," Seras objected.

He laughed again. "And are you certain of that? Are you entirely certain that I am not in your... imagination?"

Seras nodded fervently. "I would never imagine something like you," she insisted.

"Is that so? And what is imagination, I wonder?"

Seras took a deep breath. "Do you really not know? Or are you just trying to bother me?"

"Am I bothering you?" he asked.

"I suppose not... I haven't really spoken to anyone in days..."

The voice chuckled. "You've only been here for two hours, you silly girl. They're waiting for the master to get hungry, and then they'll kill you."

"Figures," Seras muttered.

"Figures?" he repeated. "What a thing to say in the face of your death! You are fascinating... where are the tears? The screams? Don't you want to live?"

"I wouldn't mind living," she admitted, "but dying isn't so bad either."

"Very, very fascinating," the voice said in admiration. "Tell me more about yourself, Seras Victoria."

"Well," she said, thinking of what to say, "Until recently, I was a Police Officer in London."

"A Police Girl?" he mused. "Why did you quit? Or were you fired?"

"It didn't make much of a difference," she said. "I didn't belong there. Not after what I did."

"And what was that?"

"There was a shooting... in a bar, and we went in to break it up, but one of my bullets... ricocheted. And hit my partner. He was... my best friend... and I... killed..." Her throat closed as fresh tears leaked down her cheeks.

"So that's it," the voice said, sounding disappointed. "I see. Perhaps I misjudged. In the end, you're just like every other human, aren't you?"

"You would have liked me better if I had no emotions at all," she pointed out. "Only a monster could kill the person they love the most and not care."

"You had no family to love?" the voice wondered.

"I was orphaned at fourteen," she informed him, not really caring what he thought about her. "That's why I decided to become an officer, because of the way they died. I almost died that night as well."

"Car crash?" he drawled.

"No. Some men broke into our appartment. My parents hid me in the closet where I watched as they were shot. Then they started to rape my mother's body. That's why I couldn't stay hidden. I couldn't let them do that to her. I was too weak to save her, but maybe I could have stopped them from defiling her like that. The only thing I could find in the closet was a fork... so I ran out, and stabbed one of them in the eye. The other shot me. I honestly thought I had died, but I woke up in the hospital some time later. And yes, being the emotional, pathetic human that I am, I cried for them. You'd have done the same if someone you loved had died."

The voice scoffed. "Aside from the fact that I have no physical body to cry with, love is something I cannot do."

Seras laughed. "And you call me the worthless one. You can't even love? What a pitiful existence."

"You pity me?" the voice snarled.

"Of course," she replied. "You are nothing. You have no feelings, no significant memories, no companions, no body... emotions may be considered weak, but at least they gave me a purpose. You? You have no purpose. Yes, I pity you."

"If I had a body, I would kill you," the voice decided. "You're far too bold for a human. Humans should know what they are; pathetic and weak. Broken in mere seconds. I hear their pain and their misery as they die within these very walls, always begging like dogs for mercy. What a world even in this castle. Hearing their pitiful cries... it's so glorious as though I myself can taste the carnage. I long to feel what he feels as he ends their meaningless lives. I can always sense his pleasure. Is death really so wonderful?"

"No!" Seras blurted out. "Death is... the end. What's wonderful about that?"

The voice cackled. "A human through and through, little police girl. Your vision is narrow. The end frightens you when it is the beginning you should have avoided in the first place. You come out of this life with what? The death of your family, the death of your friend. Do you really feel as though you've led a good life? Do you really think you've done anything worthwhile?"

"Of course," she said so instantly that a long silence followed her words.

After a few moments, the voice spoke once again, "And what, pray tell, might that have been?"

Seras closed her eyes, smiling to herself. She could remember happy times. Laughter and warmth, comfort from those she loved. The success when they apprehended a criminal or saved a person in danger. The feel of arms about her even as she cried at her parents graves. Late nights drinking coffee, talking about life as they watched for speeders.

It certainly wasn't nothing.

"Life," she said quietly, "Has it's ups and downs. I've done good things, and felt wonderful emotions that made me happy. I've seen sunsets, and smelled the grass. Life is anything but meaningless. For every time I made someone smile, and every embrace I ever received... that made life worth living. And that is why I pity you the most. Because you don't know what it is to live."

The following silence was not to be broken. The minutes quickly changed to hours, and again Seras slipped into the void of sleep, now more confident than ever that the voice had been nothing more than a hard bump on the head.

And then she woke.

For a moment, the world was a blur. Lights flashed around her, licking at the darkness. Voices coming in and out of focus. They weren't English anyway, so she made no attempt to hear them. She merely blinked again and again until her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings.

The first thing they saw was a high, painted ceiling, gilded with gold. Then walls came into perspective, followed by tapestries, and torches, and a large roaring fireplace. From her height, she realized she wasn't lying on the floor, but the place seemed to high for a bed as well.

Shaking her head as she did so, she forced herself into a sitting position.

A table, she realized. Of course. I'm dinner afterall.

Carefully, she turned until her eyes met with the only other figure in the room. He was sitting in a chair, his legs crossed elegantly, his eyes trained on hers. Seras bit back a gasp as she looked him over, and tried to recall if she had ever seen such a beautiful, frightening man before.

Webs of silk like hair cascaded down his face and shoulders, drifting across his sharp, pallid features. His lips were thin, and spread in a slight grin that revealed razor sharp teeth, and abnormally elongated canines. But what captured her interest most were his eyes, which smoldered a deep, bloody crimson.

Not human, she told herself. He can't be human.

In spite of herself, Seras rather feebly called, "Who are you?"

The "man" in the chair, rested his head in his hand, now grinning at her a bit more fully.

Seras sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't expect an answer from a man who intends to eat me, but it helps keep me rational, and I always planned to be in my right mind when I died. And who knows; perhaps having your dinner talk to you will make it seem less appealing."

The man rose from his chair, his full height stretching before her, his smile leering and cruel.

"Or not," Seras allowed, trying to keep a conversation going, if only to keep herself from bursting into tears. "Maybe it has the opposite effect. After all, if I were you, I'd want to eat me, too."

What am I saying? Seras wondered incredulously. Her captor seemed to be wondering the same thing. He had an eyebrow cocked as though curious to see where she was going with her ramblings.

She took a deep breath and continued, "I mean, if I was a killer, I suppose it would be rather difficult to resist fresh bait when it was right in front of me."

Who said I wanted to eat you?

Seras nearly jumped in surprise as words formulated in front of her face, made of something like smoke, but denser. "Er," she stuttered, "the voice in the dungeon."

Waste not, want not, the words replied.

"Huh?" she said in confusion as the words dissipated.

And suddenly the man was right in front of her, his hands sliding along the edges of her face, pushing it upward to look at him. She went rigid as icy fingers glided over her skin, lingering on her lips and the corners of her eyes, as though taking in every inch of her expression. They slowly drifted downward, along the curve of her neck and across her shoulders, down to her waist line and then upward once more.

"H-hey!" Seras gasped, jerking away from him and covering her chest defensively. "If you're going to eat me fine, but keep your hands to yourself!"

The man leaned over her, pinning her to the table with his arms.

More words began to scribble across the air. Don't resist.

"Like hell!" Seras growled. "Get off of me!"

She tried to push against his chest, but found him as immovable as steel. His arms, with the strength of a giant, wound around her, pulling her tight against him. She knew it was futile to struggle, and instead went limp in his grasp, allowing him to explore every inch of her unwilling body.

Good girl.

Seras did not meet his gaze as his hands roamed up and down her torso, along the length of her legs, under her shirt, and across places that made her face burn. It was humiliating, to be so thoroughly dominated; a small part of her began to seeth with hate that she had not felt even after being locked in a dungeon.

In her mind, she could understand if she was "dinner". Was it any different than being killed by a lion or a wolf? But to be violated first? That meant that he didn't just see her as food. And if he wasn't keeping her for food, then he was no better than the criminals she had spent years working to put away.

The police woman inside of her was buzzing angrily, thinking of ways to persecute such a man. However, the rational side of her brain said again: not human. He was clearly stronger than her, and who knew what other advantages he had over her. Years of cool thinking in hot situations cleared her mind and made her see that it truly was futile to resist, that she didn't have a hope of escaping while he had his hands on her, and that she would do less damage to herself if she just lay still.

She relaxed and shut her eyes to the world around her, forgetting the invading hands, the aches from sleeping on stone and the hunger churning in her stomach. Her thoughts soared away from this wretched place to a time when she was happy.

"Mum, look!" the girl of twelve cried, pointing to a flower. Upon it sat a tiny purple butterfly, flapping it's wings in the rare English sun.

"Beautiful," a tall, lovely woman agreed, her long blond hair falling around her face like a curtain as she bent forward to her daughter's find.

Suddenly the butterfly took flight, fluttering it's lavender wings through the air before it came to land on the young girl's shoulder.

"That's good luck," said her mother brightly. "Whenever a butterfly lands on you, it means there are good times ahead."

The young girl smiled as she watched the tiny creature rise into the air once again, and glide off over the field of wildflowers.

WHAM!

Seras was jerked back to reality with a painful yelp as something hard collided with the side of her face. Her eyes flew open in alarm, as her hand rose defensively to the injured spot. She could already feel it swelling.

You will pay attention when you are in my company, words began to write across her cloudy vision. It took her a minute to realize that it must have been her captor who had hit her.

Reflexively, to avoid further pain, she replied, "Yes, Sir."

As he bent over her once again, she was careful to keep her eyes open, locked on his, though her body she shut off to feeling. Her mind roamed, but not as deeply, straying to more recent memories.

"Oi, you're in my seat," said a deep, rugged voice.

Seras, smiling, spun around in her chair, her arms folded across her chest. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Sean put on a thoughtful pose. "Well, I suppose I could bribe you to go elsewhere," he decided after a few moments.

Seras raised an eyebrow. "It's going to have to be something pretty spectacular," she said.

"Would you call Harrod's spectacular?"

Seras snorted. "As if I can afford anything there!"

"It's my treat," he said, ruffling her hair. "You've been needing some new clothes anyway."

"I'm not letting you buy me stuff!" she said quickly.

"You don't have a choice," he replied. "Happy nineteenth birthday, Ser."

"Seriously, Sean, Harrod's is-"

"Seras, I'm buying you clothes whether you come or not," Sean insisted. "The least you can do is come along to make sure they fit. And maybe thank me a few times."

Laughing, Seras rose from the chair and through her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you," she said in his ear.

WHAM!

Seras let out a low, wounded cry as another blow connected with her skull, this time to the opposite side of her face.

She realized her eyes had slipped shut and slowly opened them again to find herself face to face with a very terrifying sight. Her captor towered over her, his face contorted with rage, his fangs bared and his eyes blazing like hellfire. She shrank backwards, her heart hammering with fear.

He brutally grabbed her shoulders and slammed her down against the table. Seras felt the wood splinter and give way beneath them, sending bits of wood into her arms and shoulders. She bit her lips to hold back her cry, forcing her eyes to stay open, to see her coming death.

Cold fingers closed on her neck, slowly adding pressure and cutting off more and more of her air supply.

So this is it, she thought, staring up into the face of the man who was about to kill her. Already darkness was clouding at the edges of her vision. What a relief. I get to die after all.

She watched his fierce face, the anger in his vision, the hate behind his eyes. He has nothing at all, she realized groggily, like the voice in the dungeon. Empty, lonely. I sort of... feel... bad...

And then everything dissolved into the black.