My first time doing an Alucard POV. It may be a little OOC. He is a complex guy after all. Please review!

I rolled a bullet between my thumb and index finger, letting every inch of cool metal make contact with the surface of both finger tips. When I was satisfied that I had touched every section of the bullet, I sat it on the wooden armrest of my chair, making it last in the line of fondled bullets. I had been twirling my gun with my other index finger. I opened the gun to retrieve another bullet and found that the chamber was empty. I guess I had already removed the last bullet.

I closed the gun and began twirling it again. I had no idea what time it was. There was no way to tell from my chamber. I also had no idea how long I had been down there. That's how things are when you exist outside of the realm of time. There's was past, is present, and I'm sure there is a future, but they don't mean much of anything. I exist next to time. I've seen time do its work time and time again, but it doesn't dare touch me. However, such an existence doesn't mean that you never get bored.

Boredom. What a mortal state. A force that drives humans to fill their painfully brief existence with as many acts as possible. It's definitely a drive I could do without. Maybe it was boredom that forced me act as irresponsibly as I did.

I brought the gun down to my lap and sighed through my nose. Or maybe it wasn't boredom, but another equally ridiculous human drive.

I wanted laugh at myself. Craving the company of another, their body, their touch, all because something inside of me told me that I needed them. But I couldn't do it. I was still under the spell of that voice deep inside my chest.

I was reminded of memories I held. They are not my memories, but the memories of a man who lived and died long ago. The man was a leader. He had friends. He had a wife whose beauty still made my cold body burn. He had a child, a son. The boy was willful, adventurous, and strong. The man took great pride in him. That boy's face has been burned into my all of these centuries. It has haunted my dreams. I seem him when I sleep, and lately, I have been seeing him when I am awake. He seems to have been reborn in the form of my new master. Her physical appearance, her demeanor, and her smile she bore a likeness to the man's son in every way.

The very thought of the young master brought a smile to my face. It couldn't be helped. I resented it a little. I don't smile. I mean I do smile, of course, during a battle against a worthy opponent, when I was about to feed on live prey, when I was picking on my master. But I never smiled in the way that the young master made me smile. The man smiled at that boy the same way.

In a way, I saw my feelings for my young master as a strength. I'm not a human, but a monster. I am not naturally caring or docile, but a killer by my very nature. Just as the meek man can rise up against the most ferocious monster to protect his family out of bravery and love, I can become tender towards the most small and defenseless creature. Yes, I do this out of bravery. Yet, bravery is only glorified foolishness. I will have none of it. But love? A creature like myself does not recognize such a feeling. The man felt it and knew it very well, but I am simply not capable of it.

Naturally my thoughts shifted towards my master. Though she wore a fierce persona, to me she too was a small creature. Yet, I was under her control in more ways than one. I'm always in control of the situation. With power as great as mine, I couldn't help it. Around, my master, however, I had nothing. I was compelled to touch her all the time. Her skin was as velvet as the sweetest virgin blood. When I first had her and made my body one with hers, I thought my life would end. Surely such ecstasy had to be accompanied by death. Her companionship has made my endless existence bearable. Even if she only exists for this meaningless instant, the memory of her would always make my dead body burn just as the memory of that man's wife did.

I'm not sure as to the fate of the young master. Few of her kind have ever existed. I do not know if she will grow old and suffer the sweet relief of death or if she exists just out of the reach of time. Though I find my existence to be tortuous, I selfishly hoped that she would be around as long as I existed. Just as the boy haunts me for the duration of my being, I want the young master to always be with me.

I've always known these feelings to be foolish. These are not my feelings, but the feelings of the man. I was becoming more like him. It is excruciating, it is irrational, and it is demeaning, but it can't be helped. When I wipe a tear from my little master's face, I am acting out of bravery, and when hold my master in her bed and let her breath burn my skin, I am acting out of love. Just as the man did in the past. Just as I did in the past.