A/N – Important that you all know this was a Vorador/Raziel challenge and I would NEVER usually write a fic with Vorador as the main character, let alone a /, but most of you know that anyway. I hope you all enjoy this more than I enjoyed writing it!

Strength to See

Vorador sat on the makeshift throne in the solitary chamber. The chamber that was fortified enough to keep Moebius and his cut-throats out. But it wouldn't hold forever.

They were coming. He'd known they were coming for the longest of times, he just had to wait and hope that when they did come, he would have the power to fight back.

But the centuries of persecution had left him tired. He didn't know if he had the strength to fight back. What was the point? If he won this battle, he'd have nothing to do but to wait for the next one, and the next one and the next…it was an endless chain and the only way to break it was for him to die. Or he could just massacre every human who dared to take up arms against him, but as that was the great majority, he wouldn't last long there either.

At least there was Kain. If Vorador died, the race would live on in Kain. But after centuries of suffering as Vorador had, would the fledgling have the strength to fight on? As Vorador sat, alone in the chamber, he realised with dawning dread and horror, the vampire race was indeed coming to an end.

What of the prophecies? What of the promises of a vampire saviour?

'Fairy tales,' his mind scorned, drawing his thoughts back to that day. The day he had met that creature, outside the ancient shrine. His thoughts always came back to that day, in one way or another, but inevitably he thought of the creature.

He regretted being so blunt and certainly regretted the way he had just teleported away from the creature when he was in so much need of his guidance. There was something about him that had intrigued the ancient. Something had sparked the vampire's interest, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.

What was it about him that caused the ancient's thoughts to dwell on him for at least thirty seconds of every day?

Vorador had tried to follow him. He had sent his ravens after the creature, watching from a distance, ready to aid him if he needed it, but the situation never arose. The creature went into the Sarafan keep and that was the last Vorador had seen of the ragged being.

Was he the saviour of vampire myth? Why hadn't he shown himself since?

Vorador's concentration was broken. Someone was outside. Someone was just outside the chamber and they were gaining entry to the ancient's hideout. How was this possible? Vorador watched the door slid open, with a calm stillness, anticipating hoards of Moebius' men to rush in and beat him to the ground.

They never came.

"So, our wretched little saviour returns."

Vorador watched the figure of the creature fade off on his journey to Avernus, with renewed hope. He believed in the creature, he believed he would be the one to find the heart of his sire and restore it. Maybe he was the vampire saviour after all, he had restored hope that the race would live on. The race wasn't as doomed as the ancient first imagined.

But at the same time, he felt a little…what was it? Annoyed? Irritated? Disappointed? Upset even? Another short meeting, come and gone, and still the ancient knew nothing more of the creature. He didn't even have a name to fit to the creature his thoughts were frequently and inexorably drawn.

He was coming back though. He would come back with the heart of darkness, the ancient knew he would. And when he did, when he had restored the body of Janos, maybe then he could learn about the mysterious creature. He could finally answer the questions that he so desperately wanted the answers to.

Who are you? What are you? Where did you come from? Why do I think about you so? Why do I lo-

Vorador broke off. Shouts. There were shouts coming from below him. He looked down into the courtyard, so they had come at last.

The cut-throats were running up to the entrance, Moebius was waiting, beyond the gate with some more of his hunters, his staff raised, ready to join his men in battle.

Vorador turned to descend, but would he meet them or hideaway again?

They were swarming across the mansion, he wouldn't escape without a fight. He thought back to the wait in Janos' tomb. Would he have the strength to fight back? Why bother if all he had to do was to wait until the next battle? Why preserve the vampire race if it was doomed with his inevitable death?

He drew his sword to answer the shouts of the approaching hunters. His renewed hope burned within him. The vampires would be saved and the creature would save them. Vorador would fight, he had to go on. He had to talk to the creature, to learn of him. He would see the vampires prosper again. He would see his beloved creature again.

End

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