D" for Short

One thing Seras (and the rest of the household) had learned early on was that Dante despised bath time. The discovery had been made within the child's first month of life, by virtue of the fact that he cried and struggled every time someone so much as got near him with a damp washcloth. At first, various members of the household had attributed the quirk to inherent obstinacy from his father's side of the family. In a way, they had been right.

Surprisingly, it was one of the soldiers who finally helped the family realize just what was going on. “You know, I always read in books that vampires don't like running water. It'd be damn funny if we could just go after them with a fire hose instead of shooting the hell out of them all the time.”

The man's simple remark, overheard by Sera's on the firing range, had provided the bolt of inspiration needed to explain Dante's aversion to getting wet. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to make bath time any easier. Four years later, the boy was still adamantly opposed to getting in the bathtub.

“Not gonna!” he shouted at his caregiver for the night as he ran down the hall, wearing not a stitch of clothing and not caring in the way only a four-year-old could manage. Seras sighed and gave chase. The boy was fast, and he could also be ridiculously difficult to locate unless you were Alucard, whose connection with the child was eerily similar to that between master and fledgling.

Really, the entire operation would have gone more smoothly if it were Alucard watching Dante tonight, but the vampire had finally driven Integra to the point of distraction with his repeated pleas to be sent on just one tiny mission. Seras had been more than happy to volunteer as Dante's babysitter, both for the change of pace and because she adored the child nearly as much as his parents did. Alucard had been quick to ensure that the most difficult aspects of caring for the boy were left for the younger vampire to see to while he was gone. Seras fully intended to shoot him when he got back from gunning down ghouls.

First, though, she had to catch the unofficial heir of Hellsing before he decided to run downstairs and streak through the kitchen while the staff was cooking dinner (it had happened before, much to his family's mortification).

“Dante, get back here!” she shouted in her best big sister voice, which sounded a lot like her best military commander voice. The only trouble was that the boy did not listen to her nearly as well as the troops did. “It's just water! It's not going to hurt you!”

“No!” her charge shouted back as he hung a left towards the staircase.

Seras skidded to a halt and smirked. Now she knew exactly where he was going to go, which meant that she could cut him off. She slipped into the shadows as her master had taught her, a clear destination in mind. Dante crashed right into her open arms when her upper half materialized at the head of the stairs.

“No!” the dhampir shouted again. He struggled against Seras's hold and kicked her twice in the thighs as she carried him back to his bathroom. “I don't want it!”

“You need it.” Seras wrinkled her nose at the dirt that was clotted in Dante's hair and smudged on his cheeks and hands. “You're filthy.”

“Am not!”

The protest went unheeded as Seras continued her progress towards the child's bathroom. “I know you don't like the water, but it's not that bad. It doesn't even move as much in the tub as it does in the pipes when people are washing dishes.”

Dante didn't answer, too busy trying to squirm his way free from Seras's arms. He gave up about three steps away from the bathroom door and hung sulkily in her hold, defeated.

That was why it came as a complete surprise when the boy sank his fangs into the vampire's forearm. Reflex caused Seras to drop him, and Dante made another dash towards freedom.

“You little sneak!” This time, Seras gathered herself quickly and phased right through the walls to head the child off in the hallway. Seeing his way blocked, Dante quickly reversed direction. He would have made it around the corner and into another hallway that lead to some stairs if not for the wall of dark-clad legs that suddenly coalesced in front of him.

Alucard plucked his child up from the floor and raised an eyebrow at Seras. “Having trouble, Police Girl?”

The younger vampire glared at Alucard and pointed at the pair of small puncture wounds on her arm. They were nearly closed over by now and would soon be gone. “He learned that trick from you,” she insisted. “I thought you were busy with a mission.”

“I was,” Alucard replied smoothly as he adjusted his hold on Dante. The boy had pressed his face against his father's chest, as if by doing so he could hide from Seras and from the threat of a bath, even though it was usually Alucard who oversaw the dreaded procedure. “They can manage without me for a few minutes. Dante was distressed, so I came to see what the trouble was.”

Seras scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. Dirt from Dante's hands streaked the front of her powder blue sleeveless cardigan. “You could have just asked, and now you're putting my men in danger because you didn't think to.”

“They're perfectly fine.” Alucard stepped up to Seras and practically dropped his son on top of her. She had to scramble to catch him before one or both of them hit the floor. “Though I do find it remarkable that a pack of human men are more capable of destroying vast numbers of ghouls than a vampire of your stature is of getting a four-year-old clean.” He tapped his index finger on the top of Dante's head to get the boy's attention. “Behave yourself,” he said once the blue eyes were focused on him, “and no biting.” He smiled that infuriating smile of his, and disappeared.

A moment later, Seras nearly screamed in frustration when she heard Alucard's voice in her mind. I expect my son to be clean and fed by the time I get home. If you can manage that, perhaps I will start calling you Nanny Seras instead of Police Girl.