He watched her in the darkness, after the chaos was over. His blood-red eyes were almost sympathetic as he studied the fragile, terrified girl within the confines of his soul. He'd graciously allowed her a patch of light to sit in, though her silver swastika pendant glinted unpleasantly at him.

It astounded him how much could happen in so little time.

When she'd fought him, her eyes had contained nothing but fury and purpose, and her words had held only venom and hatred. Her intentions couldn't have been clearer; she was going to change her own destiny and kill the man who was bound by fate to bring her down.

Now, she looked as she had in the minutes during which he'd killed her: trembling from fear; long black hair nearly standing on end (not counting the one long, stubborn curl); eyes wide and paranoid behind her glasses, as though the monster who'd attacked her was going to jump out of any corner and cause her even more suffering and pain.

He sighed inwardly. Yes, he'd subjected her to a worse death than anyone he'd fought in the last twenty years, but it had all been for a reason. He was surprised and furious that Millennium had let her die so easily. She was a skilled huntress, and she had only fallen because her prey was too powerful. But now, it was time for her to hunt again. He needed her as she now needed him, and he'd make sure she knew the truth about the people who'd thrown her away like a scrap of meat to a dog.

...

Rip van Winkle's eyes were practically forcing their way out of her head as she eyed the shadows around her. Where was she? More importantly, was he here? Something had happened when he'd sunk his teeth into her neck, her helplessly writhing on the end of her own musket, the flames roaring around them. She'd slipped into darkness…all she could hear were her own gasps and a strangely familiar voice…had it been her comrades? Had she been on the brink of salvation before the darkness consumed her? She didn't know, and she wasn't sure she'd ever want to find out. All she knew now was that wherever she was, he couldn't be far away.

She couldn't have been more correct.

The huntress made a noise between a gasp and a scream when her tormentor, her murderer, her Samiel melted out of the shadows and into the room. His hat and glasses were gone, having disappeared during their battle, and his messy black hair had gone back to its normal length. His long red duster was open in an almost nonchalant manner, allowing her to see the night-black tuxedo underneath. His cocky smirk revealed the point of a gleaming fang, and his crimson eyes studied her carefully, as if he was trying to predict how she would react to seeing him in the milliseconds before she did.

He didn't have to wait long; Rip scrambled away from him screaming, that lovely soprano voice twisted into something simultaneously awful and wonderful to hear. "GET AVAY FROM ME!" she shrieked, jumping to her feet and watching his every move.

Alucard chuckled quietly, a deep, musical sound. "Do you really think I could put you through anything worse than what you've already been through?" he asked. "There's no need to be afraid. It's all over. You're my charge now. And truly," he said, smirking wider, "I'd say you're better off like this than with them." At this statement Rip's blue eyes narrowed, and her own terror began to pale in the face of her remembered fury. She was a huntress, and she couldn't keep the mindset of prey for very long. Her fear and anger began to mix, and gave power to her words.

"And just how am I better off DEAD? Is this funny for you, you sadistic freak!" she spat at the other vampire, snarling. "I vas being KIND vhen I said you vere riffraff! You are less than wermin! Less than trash!" Alucard's grin only seemed to grow. So, the girl he'd fought was still in there after all.

"Is that so? Then what of the people who really forced you to go through all this pain?" he inquired. Rip's chagrin burned brighter now, her fear completely obscured. How dare he mock her! How dare he try to pass on the blame when even now his suit was stained through with her blood! And now he was stupid enough to challenge her unarmed? She would make him pay!

"Vhat are you talking about? YOU did this to me! You punched me, you impaled me, you laughed as I died! YOU KILLED ME!" she shouted, running forward and taking a swing at him.

But rather than make contact with his body, her fist met his gloved palm. Quick as lightning, Alucard spun Rip around so her arm was pinned to her back, then he forced her to the floor. Thank you, Police Girl, he thought, watching Rip's response to this turn of events. The swiftness with which she'd been subdued had left her temporarily immobile, it seemed. That was what he'd hoped for. He lowered his head so his lips were by her ear, close enough to see the surprise and fear fresh on her face. The closeness was only to show her he was serious; he couldn't hurt her now even if he wanted to. All he needed was her undivided attention, without her fury rendering her deaf. He didn't expect her to listen so soon after the fact, but now she had no choice.

"Yes," he said quietly, not a trace of amusement left in his tone, "and no. I did put you through horrible things. I made you suffer and watched your pain, and I can't deny that as it was happening, I enjoyed it." She struggled fruitlessly beneath him, and he tightened his grip, moving in a little closer. "But you are not dead, and I am not your true target. I brought you here so I could tell you exactly what you have become, and what I want you to do for me. And I swear to you that unless you try to kill me the moment I stand up, I won't harm you again. Now, are you going to listen to what I have to tell you or not?"

She struggled again, and again his grip tightened. He pressed her more firmly into the ground. "Answer the question, Rip van Winkle." His voice gained a slight growl as he spoke.

The dark-haired ex-Nazi shuddered, and paused before giving a small nod, still looking away from him. When he still didn't release her, she added a quiet "…Ja."

"Good," said Alucard, letting go of her wrist and moving off of her to sit on the ground beside her. As the girl pulled herself up to sit also, he looked at her face. She looked submissive, and a little sad, but far from broken. That was exactly what he had hoped for. She would listen to him now. Maybe she wouldn't really hear him, but she would listen. There was a lot for her to understand, in a very short amount of time, but it would all benefit her in the end. And once she heard, she could get the revenge she so truly deserved.

After all, being killed is one thing. The true crime that had been committed on her was being lied to about it.