The grey blanket above growled at the population of Mistyville before unleashing a harsh torrent of water down.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening was drowned out by the storm outside as a raven-haired young man, his brown parka now dark and heavy from running across the street, walked into his apartment.

"Whaaat?" Jonas could hear before he saw the blonde midget from within the open kitchen.

"I was just about to head out to get some butter! St- oh, you're home," Serena perked up somewhat and untied her apron, left cheek and chin kissed by flour.

He smiled in his usual placcid manner and asked, "Are you making butter chicken?"

"No," the short blonde hung the cloth on the hook right next to the kitchen entrance and redid her ponytail. Part of her baby hairs clung to her sweaty forehead. "I needed more butter to bake some cake for Nelson. More butter, smoother cake!"

"Dad's coming over for dinner? Why."

She snickered at his sullen expression and continued her way towards the bathroom, "Do you need reason to have dinner with family?" He longingly stared at her round rump. "Stop staring at my booty."

"It's a good booty. And forget the butter. Just let him choke on cake."

She exhaled in exasperation and, protest on the tip of her tongue, was interrupted by the door bell cutting the atmosphere with its sanguine music notes.

The door opened with a thump and the sound of hinges protesting as a torrent of rainwater entered the pristine lobby along with a soaked man. Sidestepping to the left just enough to close the now wide open door with a grunt, the brunet cursed softly under his breath as he finally prevailed against the strong gust of wind pushing the polished oaken panel of the heavy door against his palm. The outside world was grey and angry today, and going home was a solace that nearly made him forget the cold clinging to his skin from the now useless weight of his coat.

His task done, he was about to sigh in relief when a soft thump from further along the house made him freeze. Jonas was sure that his girlfriend would not be out of bed due to her cold, so who was making that noise? Raven-coloured eyebrows furrowing in worry, the brunet quickly left his keys on the hook by the door and made his way to the source of the sound; the kitchen. As he approached, more sounds made themselves known, but as he arrived in the usually sunlit room...

He only found a certain blond midget that should be resting making something sweet smelling, her cute face set into a rather intense moue of concentration as she stirred the mixture, her whole body messy with flour. Letting out a soft relieved laugh, Jonas approached the blonde with a gentle smile on his face.

“What are you trying to make here, butter chicken?” Peeking into the bowl, the man's inquisitive finger was swapped away with a laugh as Mandy shook her head, a wide smile on her face.

“No, silly, I'm making a cake, see?” Peering at her work, she suddenly looked worried “Does it look like butter chicken...?”

Smiling once more and ready to reassure her about her baking skills, Jonas was startled by the next words she spoke.

“It's for Nelson, he's out getting more butter for it.” What?!

“My dad?” He croaked, eyes widening in mild horror.

“Yeah! He passed by to see you!” Mandy said, beaming a sunny smile up at him with her cheeks pink with proud excitement.

Shit...

The early morning breeze squirmed its way through what little space was offered to the elements, blowing through the open streets of Heimdall town.

Alucard could taste the faint saltiness in the air, and briefly recalled a memory that included flashes of a sunny beach, revelry of both good food and better company; the recollection was distant, almost on the brink of forgotten, and despite the merry experience, it did little to quell the unease in the pits of his stomach.

His fingers felt like useless extensions protuding from hands that didn't dare reach out to grab the one person he knew would forever miss.

Blue eyes, deeper than the seas beyond the town's frontier, held a sadness deeper still. They shone with unbridled tears of distraught, but the boy's pride drew a line to the display of emotions. He could not allow himself to cry; if he did, the innocent and clueless toddler clinging to the leg of his green, flannel pants would follow suit.

"Now, Alucard, I want you to promise me something," the children's nanny flitted her amethyst eyes onto the young girl, whose face was dusted with freckles and curiosity.

Alucard felt his chest lockdown - it hurt to breathe out. Every time he did, the lump in his throat became harder to shove down. "I'll take good care of Susannah," his coarse voice pierced through the melllow tranquility. Its harshness surprised even the brunet himself. He dared to look up at the nanny who had her unsettling gaze on him.

Her smile was gentle. Controlled, demure, but also gentle, like the touch of a sheep's fleece on his calloused hands.

"I want you to remember to take care of yourself, too," her sultry voice quietly brought away a pinch of misery, "If you fall, Susannah will be sad. You're all you two have now."

He wanted to question her why this was the repercussion they had to pay for, but of course he knew the answer. If she remained, the person who would suffer would be her flesh and blood. It was unfair, but at the same time, just. Where his own parents failed, the blonde woman made up in spades, and he couldn't selfishly demand for her not to go back to her true home.

Alucard briefly registered the sound of the horses' impatient sighing, their hooves clopping on the tiles of the street. The staccato clicks and thuds resounded with the erratic rhythm of his heart.

Before he could interject any comment, the flaxen-haired caretaker ordered the carriageman to move. And thus was the last memory the brunet ever had of their nanny Gertrude.