Beastie

Discalimer: I don't own the song, Janos Audron, Vorador, or Uschtenheim.

If one was to look into the retreat in Uschtenheim that night, they would not see anything. Or, unless you have a keen sense of hearing you would not detect any sound. But if you did possess sensitive ears, you would perhaps hear the short breaths and stifled sobs of an Ancient vampire.

From early days of infancy,

Through trembling days of youth,

Long murky middle age,

To final hours long in the tooth.

How often he had reassured firends with brief, forced smiles and soft voice that he was perfectly alright. How often he had laughed and thanked the few who had asked after him. How often he had laughed off the idea of being scarred by the device and his time as a different creature.

He's the hundred names of terror,

Creature you love the least,

Picture his name before you,

And exorcise The Beast!

How often he had sat alone in the dark, yellow eyes shining with silent fear, trembling, breathing coming short and panicked. How often his broken nerves had forced him to flinch from the slightest sounds and constantly glance over his shoulder for an enemy that wasn't there.

He roved up and down through history,

Spectre with tales to tell,

In the darkness when the campfire's dead,

To each his private hell.

No, Janos Audron was really very accomplished at hiding his emotions. It was only when he was alone then he would let the calm, reassuring façade drop and spend hours at a time curled up in a chair, staring with hollow, haunted eyes into the depths of a dying fire.

If you look behind your shoulder

As you feel his eyes to feast

You can witness now the ever – changing

Nature of the Beast!

Beastie!

He still did wake in the night, panting and shivering after dreams of pacing endlessly on weak and weary limbs in a space that closed in on him. Closed further in on him, further, further till he felt, even though he had no need for air, that he was going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen. He couldn't console himself from dreams like this, and had to resort to staring anxiously round into the darkness while his clawed hands worked the fabrics of his quilt into tattered shreds.

If you wear a warmer sporran,

You can keep the foe at bay.

You can pop those pills and visit

Some psychiatrist who'll say:

There's nothing I can do for you,

Everywhere's a danger zone.

I'd love to help get rid of it but

I've got one of my own:
Beastie!

And he would never admit his inner torment to anyone. He was too proud for that. Besides, who would really want to listen to the strained ramblings of a confused old vampire…? Even Janos couldn't make himself believe that. He knew that Vorador would want to know, and that Vorador should know. Had the right to know. He knew that his vampiric 'son' would understand what Janos was going through better than anyone.

There's a beast upon my shoulder,

And a fiend upon my back.

Feel his burning breath a heaving,

Smoke oozing from his stack.

And he moves beneath the covers

Or he lies below the bed.

He's the beast upon your shoulder.

He's the price upon your head.

But Janos Audron wasn't going to let memories get the better of him. He had a duty to perform, and for his sake and everybody else's he had to perform it. Endless vigilance, endless determination… the vampire smiled into the darkness.

He's the lonely fear of dying,

And for some, of living, too.

He's your private nightmare breaking,

He'd just love to turn the screw.

So stand as one defiant,

Yes, and let your voices swell!

Stare that Beastie in the face,

And really give him Hell!

God, that was a depressing load of crap. Sorry – R&R please! Oh and if you're wondering about the song, it's called 'Beastie' and was written by the band Jethro Tull. It's a song all about fear.