Authors Note: Thank you for the reviews that was really nice. Hope you like this chapter. It's introducing the vampire side.

WARNINGS: INVOLVES BLOOD DRINKING, SWEARING. SLASH-ISH

Chapter 2: A Vital Pawn

Sitting against the wall, his head down, and eyes closed, Christopher Rhea Saunders counted the minutes once more. There was nothing else to do. No windows and no doors that he could see through, there was nothing to entertain him until it was feeding time. At which point a warm bag was shoved through the slot at the bottom of the reinforced grey door. He only wished he could receive more than five pints of blood once every three days. However, he knew it was to keep each prisoner at his or her weakest. They were not able to fight, to put up resistance and those who had been born vampires were always near a constant state of death. Bloody sadists the council were.

Five thousand, four hundred and sixty three. That had been the amount of minutes since his last feeding. He couldn't even sleep, constantly wired, the blood laced with drugs to keep them awake and repenting their actions. He was treated like a murderer, he was treated like a rapist and he was treated like one who had committed high treason against Cronus himself. All he had done was listen to a very private and confidential conversation. That was it. Now he had been thrown in jail, nothing being said, no questions asked. No one cared that he was in here; he was sure that his sister didn't even know that he was arrested. Instead she would believe the lies that the council often told. Now he understood the corruption in the ministry. This would teach him for often saying that it was not his business.

Moving slightly to sit in a crouch, he placed his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. Five thousand, four hundred and sixty four. There was no sound; no dripping noises to keep him company and it was that silence that often caused many prisoners to become insane. To hear nothing apart from his own breathing, his own movements—it was horrible. He missed the outside world already. Missed the humans brushing up against him, the girls sharing his bed as he drank from them and the feeling of stalking his prey. Now he was weak, waiting for his next feeding, his body tingling in anticipation although it would not be for a while.

"Stand back from the door, and face the back wall, arms behind your back." The voice was robotic, cold and not one to be disobeyed. Standing up, a heavy groan coming from his lips as he did so, Christopher did as he was told. Placing his arms behind his back, he leaned his face against the wall, a strong, reinforced material that was bullet-proof and vampire proof. It was cool even against his cooling skin and he closed his eyes; but whilst his body was screaming in tiredness the drugs kept him awake, kept him in that constant state of unrest and he listened as the door was forced open with a grunt from three different guards.

"Do not move. If you do you shall be killed." They were not lying. Christopher heard the horror stories and he was too tired, too frustrated to move anyway. He would soon be finding out what the problem was, why he had been arrested just for listening to a conversation. That is what he decided to focus on. Finally he might have some bloody answers. He hated not knowing.

He felt the sharp sting of the pewter against his skin. Christopher gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain as his wrists burned and bubbled against the onslaught of the one material all vampires were allergic towards. He allowed himself to be turned and pushed forward.

"Keep moving 794."

"I'm going alright. Tell me Murray how's your wife? The kids ok?" Christopher knew the guard. In fact he had been under his guidance when he started his first job as a bodyguard, centuries ago.

"Marie is doing fine. She's expecting our fifth and Damon well, he's going straight to the top, and Theia herself is his mentor." Pride was clear in his voice although he continued to shove Christopher roughly through the prison. Yet he often helped steady him when he tripped or his body shook in protest.

"That's good. Tell them congratulations from me. I would buy them a present but I'm kind of busy at the minute," Christopher replied, throwing a soft smile over his shoulder. Murray smiled and softened his shoving; just enough so the other guards didn't question it. Christopher knew how to manipulate them.

"So where am I going?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you. All I know is that the order comes from above. A part of your clan."

"Rhea himself then." Christopher sighed. Rhea was a sick bastard when it came to punishment. He was the darkest and cruellest, everyone knew it. The fact that Rhea was the head of the clan that Christopher belonged to meant that Christopher was royally screwed. Rhea hated someone embarrassing him.

"It was nice knowing ya."

"It was nice knowing myself as well." He wasn't scared, just nervous about his punishment. It was bound to be annoying, painful and not at all exciting. He wouldn't make the rumours and he wouldn't become a hero. Just another nameless face punished for the 'sake of the vampire community and its protection.' What a load of bull crap.

His head was shoved down at the last moment, his arms pulled back sharply and the pewter pressed once more against his skin. He hissed; his teeth grinding together and his eyes closing as he tried to ride the wave of pain. Large doors opened before him, an ominous thudding sound shook the floor as they landed against the wall. His hair being pulled brought his head up and watering eyes forced to look forward at the desk before him. Large tomes leaned precariously on the left, a computer on the right and a notebook right in the centre.

"We brought him sir."

"Thank you Murray. Wish your wife congratulations from me," the voice was calm and slippery, like honey. A tone of voice that washed over other vampires, that could make them fall asleep and feel comforted. Looking up, his back bent by the force of one of the guards, he watched as the towering form of Rhea loped in from the back of the room. It was for dramatics, for them to know that he was the power, but to Christopher it made him look like a theatrical moron.

"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir." Humbled and a little awed that such a leader could know about his wife, Murray was almost glowing. Christopher rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you just fuck him and get it over with?" he murmured under his breath. He received a sharp back hand across his face; his entire skull rattled and his teeth bit into his tongue. Hungrily, he swallowed his own blood. It helped soothe some of his dry, scratching throat.

"You should show respect Christopher. You are in a lot of trouble after all," the soft voice said as a hand stroked across his stinging cheek. It was to make him feel comfortable and also on guard; to confuse, conquer and all that. Christopher just thought that it made Rhea look old, stupid and redundant. He had learned this when he was young. When he conned his way into the rich courtesans houses, laying with the wives, marrying the daughters, and keeping the money. Yet never being hated. A manipulator could never be manipulated and yet Rhea seemed to have forgotten that. Looking up, his eyes stinging at the force of the angle, he noticed that Rhea wasn't even looking at him as he stroked his face. He was looking at the other guards.

'Clever man' he thought to himself. Rhea was doing it to show the guards his power, to make them think that he only punished for a good reason. That he cared deeply for his own. Clever, clever man.

"Will you be alright with him sir?" Murray was a suck up. He always followed those in power but never led himself.

"Do you doubt me Mr Murray?" his voice was soft and yet controlling. If Murray answered wrong then he would anger Rhea. A dangerous consequence.

"Of course not, sir."

"Then don't you have jobs to be getting back to?" Again it was soft. Christopher closed his eyes; his body almost dropping were it not for the hand holding his chin in a vice like grip. He couldn't sleep, his mind wired, his body tense and yet exhausted. It was so painful. As the footsteps from the guards faded, Christopher squeezed his eyes together tightly.

Five…

Any second now.

Four…

Rhea was going to kill him. There were no witnesses after all.

Three…

Would anyone miss him? He wished that he done something to be remembered for.

Two…

Being a con artist for centuries had its drawbacks; staying in the background and under the radar to constantly go from one place to another. He was going to be forgotten about. Biting his bottom lip, he kept his eyes closed.

One…

As if hearing the inner countdown, Rhea picked Christopher up and swung him into the room. It was like someone with a shot-put, turning and letting go. Flying for a few seconds, Christopher did not open his eyes. He landed painfully against the heavy oak bookcase. His burning wrists pressed beneath the weight of his body causing Christopher to cry out. It hurt. His t-shirt had ridden up and his back was victim to the pewter. He could smell his own flesh burning. It was not serious; it wouldn't kill him from this small amount but he would look sunburnt and blistered for a couple of weeks.

"You stupid little idiot. Do you know how embarrassing it is having one of my own being caught eavesdropping? How are old you—ten?" Rhea's voice was angry, seething and it no longer had that honey like tone. Instead it was sharp, making Christopher cringe from the sound. Like nails on a chalkboard. He wished he knew how to make his voice like that.

"I don't even know what it was about." He wouldn't swear. To swear would show that he was aggravated and feeling high emotion. He wouldn't let Rhea win although Rhea was much stronger then him.

"You do though don't you my dear Christopher. A smart boy like you knows how to keep information hidden. In your mind ready to use at a moments notice," the honey like voice was back and Christopher instantly opened his eyes. A hand was weaving into his caramel coloured hair, the fingers wrapping in the strands. Blue eyes widened as his head was pulled up. His body following and he wished to reach up to loosen the fingers pulling at his hair. If his hair was pulled out it would not grow back. He would have a constant bald patch that would make him stand out.

Standing out made him a target. Standing out could mean death.

"I don't know anything Rhea," act the fool. Act the idiot. Act Innocent. If he did that then Rhea would go easy on him. Think of him as nothing but an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time; an idiot who could only manipulate and con those younger and weaker then him. Not a threat.

The truth was that Christopher knew exactly what had been said. He knew exactly what each member of the vampire council thought about a proposition to another world. It was just that he couldn't understand what it would mean. Maybe if he acted stupid and naïve about it, then Rhea would let slip what it was about, just enough so that he could understand what it meant.

"You are a lying little child and you know it." A soft, mocking voice floated over him. It clashed with the hand pressing hard against his throat as he was shoved hard into the bookcase. His cuffed hands caught at a harsh angle, his shoulder dislocating itself with a pop.

Agony. Whilst it was hard to kill vampires, almost impossible by an amateur, they still felt pain and could still suffer. His shoulder had popped out, the pain of it telling him so and then numbness spread as his arm flopped. It put pressure on his other arm that was trapped in the same position due to the cuffs.

"Now tell me, my child, what did you hear?" He was let loose, the hand once more coming to stroke the side of his face. Lips drawn together and eyes closed, Christopher ignored the mind entering his. Ignored the feeling of intrusion and hid what he had heard. Hid it below visions of women screaming beneath him, hid it beneath the pain of his wrists and shoulder, and hid it beneath absolute awe for Rhea himself.

Rhea was a genius. Intelligent, powerful, bloodthirsty and feared. Rhea was also a complete and utter egotistical, self centred and narcissistic prat. Christopher knew that once Rhea knew that he was in awe of him, he would pull back feeling good about himself. Too predictable.

"I didn't hear anything, my lord. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Christopher sounded humbled, gritting his teeth as Rhea stroked his hand down the side of his face and down his dislocated arm.

He screamed. A sharp, spine-tingling scream as his shoulder was forced back into place, his body arching and tensing. He dropped. Rhea was no longer holding him, no longer supporting him. Thinking that Christopher knew nothing about what the meeting had been about, Rhea thought of him as non-important and returned to his desk. His large, oaf like form folding almost into half as he sat in an ergonomic, leather chair. Fingers pressed together before him as he waited for Christopher to kneel. His body doubled over; his forehead pressed against the wooden floor as he tried to get under control. The blood was rushing to his pained shoulder, binding the tendons back together so it would be useable and he knew that if he survived this he would need about two humans to fully heal and be back at full strength. The oxygen gained from the blood given was slowly drying up; his mind feeling fuzzy and his muscles having lactic acid building up.

"Get up Christopher. My patience is wearing thin."

Christopher thought that Rhea was worse then a girl on PMS. His mood constantly changed, his voice changing with it. Yet he knew it was a form of manipulation. If his temper kept changing one could never figure him out. Could never get use to him and at worst would underestimate. It was a perfect manipulation, one that Christopher was also getting quite good at; though he preferred a more subtle approach.

Shifting his legs, he brought his bare feet up. They had not allowed him to wear his shoes. To wear shoes was to be individual. They all wore the same; black cotton trousers and a black t-shirt. That was it. Every single vampire in the prison wore the same thing and as such lost all individuality. All tattoos were burned or cut off so that when the skin grew back it would be unmarked. No one was allowed to be anything other then a number, an inmate. It was only in front of the leaders that they were given their names back. It made them lose all of their fighting spirit. It was perfect.

"What are you going to do with me?" his voice was croaking and he gave a dry cough. From the screaming and the lack of blood, his throat was red raw.

"I'm going to use your talents to my own advantage, of course." The tone was honey like once more, the smirk cat like and Christopher, gingerly moved forwards.

"Maybe we should get those cuffs off you—should we not?" without an answer from Christopher he pressed a button under his desk and Murray once more came in. He did not look at the broken bookcase. He did not look at the bruised Christopher, for vampires could bruise like humans with enough force; he just nodded and saluted Rhea briskly.

"Please take the cuffs off the prisoner 794 and bring in a fresh blood bag. Wizarding OB negative if you don't mind." Murray saluted and quickly took the handcuffs of Christopher who gingerly brought his aching arms around to his front and rubbed at his burnt wrists. The thin red line circling them was blistered and although the redness was not as bad as it should be, he knew the blisters would be there for a few more days. The one on his back even longer probably.

Taking a seat, which was uncomfortable and imposing in its own right, Christopher said nothing. He chose to wait, with saliva collecting in his mouth at the thought of wizarding OB negative. It was a blood type that all vampires wished for. A blood type only the rich and powerful could get. Perfect, strong, with a punch that would wake you up. At the same time it could make even the most battered vampire heal quicker and survive a pewter stake through the heart. Christopher knew this was a peace offering. Telling him that he could have this, that Rhea would look after him if he did as he was told. For now he was willing to go along with it.

"Drink, then we shall talk." Rhea's voice was calm and once Christopher was handed the warm bag, he didn't need any prompting. Curved, wolf like canines extended, his blue eyes turning into a frosty, early morning colour, and lifting the bag to his lips bit into it.

It was like a firework, like that moment at the very peak of climaxing. He closed his eyes as the blood rushed down his sore throat. He could almost envision the blood singing and dancing in his veins as it reached his wrists, his back, his sore shoulders and tired muscles. His whole body was tense, taut and feeling stronger then ever. Sex couldn't even relate to drinking this blood. It was why killing and drinking from a wizard was illegal. Once you had that drop of fresh, heart beating blood you lusted for more. You couldn't stop yourself and that was why some vampires who had not learnt this rule had shown themselves breaking all rules of privacy and secrecy to get one more taste, one more fix.

"It's delicious isn't it? The feeling of the blood singing in your veins. Imagine what it could be like from a freshly beating heart." Christopher could hear the voice but he would not open his eyes. Although the bag had been finished, although he let it drop, sagging and empty onto the floor, he could still feel the blood singing in his veins. Licking at his lips and finally feeling as if he could breathe once more, Christopher decided to ignore Rhea for a little bit longer. His mind was finally functioning properly, his eyes opening returning to their natural, bright, fire blue. His teeth returning to normal, mortal size and he looked at Rhea, a lazy smirk on his lips.

"Now my dear lord, tell me what it is you wish of me to do," he was mocking the leader and Rhea nodded. His hands like a steeple under his chin; his amber eyes narrowing in a predatory smile.

"So you finally understand."

"Why else would you share with me such an expensive vintage, if you did not wish something of me in return. That blood is forbidden to ones such as myself."

"My dear Christopher I knew there was a reason why I chose you."

"Not because I was supposedly listening to a conversation?" He leaned back, his arms resting on the chair's arms and feet flat on the floor. To cross his legs or arms would show a defensive stature and would tell Rhea that he was the more dominant.

"That is neither here nor there. You will do what I wish of you. If not then you shall go down with the nosferatu."

Christopher grimaced slightly. The Nosferatu were the made vampires that all mortals imagined them to be. The type of vampire Bram stoker and the first vampire movies made them out to be. Drawn, creature like and constantly thirsting for blood. They had no voice, they had no thoughts and they had no reason for living apart from that one drop of glorious blood.

The made vampires all feared to become like them, which they did if they did not drink blood within three days. The longer they starved, the more they became like the nosferatu. The Sanguinatus vampires had no such fear. After three days of thirsting they would die. Just like a mortal without water. Yet if a Sanguinatus vampire was within ten feet of a nosferatu they were considered a food source. Especially the still aging vampires who were still living; their hearts beating and their lungs taking in air.

"What is it?"

"Cronus himself has decided that it's best for us to join with the wizarding world," he said it bluntly and straight to the point. There was no small talk.

"The wizarding world? Doesn't that break all of the codes of privacy and secrecy from the first Cronus, all those millennia ago?"

"Yes, well, apparently the blood reserves are getting low and Cronus feels that if we join with the wizarding world, then we can gain more power. More reserves of the special blood and of course a powerful ally should our enemies decide to declare war."

"The wizarding world is our enemy. They hate anything different. They believe us to be exactly like how the mortals believe. Cronus can not be serious?"

"He is. He has in fact had Coeus already contact the wizarding ministry and they have agreed a precarious treaty. One of our own will go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for one year to prove that we are no danger," here Rhea stopped, looking at Christopher straight on.

"So you chose me. Why not one of Theia's lot?"

"Theia would not allow one of her own to go to the mortal world. She likes her secrecy more than Cronus himself. No, it must be one of mine and you are the lucky participant." He stopped, his smile once more like a cat as he stood up and walked around his desk, to tower over Christopher.

Christopher did not bend his neck to look up. He looked straight ahead at Rhea's stomach and thought it through. He had no idea what the Sanguinatus leader was thinking. At 1000 years old, Cronus was slowly losing the plot as was Rhea and the rest of the council to even consider such a bad idea as this. Mortals were not good at accepting those that were different and much more powerful then themselves. The vampires were such beings. That was why they had disappeared from the eyes of both worlds back in the times of the Titans and the Olympians.

Allowing the mortals and wizards to think that Zeus the first great wizard had defeated him, Cronus had gathered his children into his arms and ushered them underground. They built their own society, co-existing with the mortal world and blending in, becoming invisible. The children Sanguinatus went to mortal school, they got mortal jobs and decided what age they wanted to stop aging after 25 when their bodies had fully developed.

It had been that long since anyone had known of more then the childish made vampires who, not understanding what they were, would kill a wizard and lust for the blood after, killing more and more. That was the only way they were known about in the first place. Looking at the man in front of him, and not even twitching as a hand once more came and stroked the side of his now warm and rosy skin, an effect of drinking blood. He thought it all through. To do this would put him in good stead with Rhea and the rest of the council. It would put him in the frontline, knowing all the information and knowing the best way to save his own arse. It would also protect his sister.

Allowing his face to be turned and his neck on show, he did nothing as Rhea bent his body and extending his own fangs bit sharply into his neck.

"I'll do it." He could feel the lips almost smile around his neck. He could feel Rhea's happiness with him as he was lifted and crushed against him. The fresh wizarding blood he just drank being withdrawn from him once again, so that his wounds returned. Rhea was taking back what he had given him; showing that he had absolute control. Not for long. Christopher was eyeing the position. He could see himself being the next Rhea but for now he would let the leader have his way.

As the lights went out and he was pushed onto the table, fangs still in his neck, he shut his eyes. Soon, very soon he would play a game with the council. No one messed with him and got away with it. That little conversation would be very dangerous if Cronus himself found out about it.

"You leave tomorrow." And with that Rhea pierced the other side of Christopher's neck, wrapped his hand tightly in his hair and trailed his other hand.

Just a little longer and it would be him in control.

Just a little longer and Rhea would be dead.

Just a little longer and Cronus himself would be begging him for forgiveness.

Just a little longer.