Soooo, I'm doing a little character throw in. I hope it works. I love The Strain T.V series, it's amazeballs. I just wanted to play around with the characters a tiny bit, so naturally I chose Abraham. 'Cause he's awesome! I just thought... what if Abraham had family? Then I thought... too much. Everybody would be dying all over the place, and then he'd be far too distracted to kick butt. Soooooo, what if Abraham had a member of family? Like a grandson? Only I don't like writing about guys with dramatic paths, girls are so much cooler. So enter grandaughter Setrakian.

Enjoy!

The Strain: Bloodline

~ Prologue ~

Thirteen years ago...

Skin painted in sweat, her heart racing, and finally sweet, doe-like eyes snapped open.

The room was dark, but whatever had woken young Cassandra Setrakian, was quiet now, it's silence louder than the warning horn of an oncoming train.

Tentatively, she placed a curious toe outside her covers, crossing the cold wooden floor in a flurry of footsteps, as her pale hand reached bravely for the door handle. Cassandra poke her head out onto the landing.

Nothing.

Just darkness.

"Mom? Daddy?" She called, her voice barely louder than a whisper, as she made it to their bedroom door.

She peeked inside.

Empty. The bed hadn't even been slept in.

"Where are you?" Cassandra wondered, her little face crinkling prettily, as the shadows of her nightmare crept tauntingly down her spine.

A faint light caught her eye, and crouching down, she rested her forehead against the stair railings, discovering that the light belonged to nothing but a silent T.V screen. Perhaps they had fallen asleep downstairs?

Reaching the top step, Cassandra was able to switch the landing light on, happy to be bathed in it's artificial warmth, as she slowly began her the decent to the family room. Was that a splash of red she saw? Had her mom dropped another wine glass? Dad had warned her against the beige carpets, she was far too accident prone.

"Mom, dad, I had a bad dream." Cassandra mumbled tiredly, happy to find them curled up on the sofa together.

They didn't answer.

Cassandra glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, a gift from her grandfather, and raised her eyebrows. Half-three in the morning? No wonder her parents were out cold.

"Mom?"

The girl stepped forward, but stopped, her feet sinking uncomfortably into wet carpet. She grimaced at the sensation. More wine? Cassandra glanced back at the staircase. Was that a crimson hand on her dad's newly papered walls? And the carpet... the red was looking less and less like spilt wine, and more like wild track marks. Track marks that lead directly to the sofa...

Was that her mom's necklace?

Cassandra bent down, lacing the delicate chain of her mother's 'Star of David' carefully through uncertain fingers.

It to was flecked with red, she realised, and suddenly Cassandra knew she did not want to look 'round the edge of the couch. She did not wish to see her parent's faces any more. She could turn back, go upstairs and face only the horrors her dreams would provide her. Not this. Not this red room, and it's stench of iron.

How had she not noticed that before?

"Calm yourself, Mäuschen. Can't you see they are only sleeping?"

Cassandra turned, her gaze meeting a set of piercing, dark eyes, and though she tried to scream, her words only abandoned her.

The monster in front of her resembled a man. He was dressed like a man, he sounded like a man, but that was where the similarities ended, and the horror began. For no man could mimic the being in front of her. His skin was whiter than her own, dead, he had no hair, no nose, and his lips were crudely stained scarlet. A red that matched her parent's walls and carpet.

"Strigoi." She breathed finally, though she might have imagined it.

Her realisation only seemed to please him, and the cruellest of smiles began to twist his lips , but Cassandra did not wait to see more. She ran, she ran as her grandfather had always taught her.

To find silver, to find something to protect herself with

But what?

The necklace in her hand – that was silver – but nowhere near a worthy enough weapon, so she burst into the kitchen, throwing draws to the floor in her haste to find what she needed. In the chaos she somehow happened upon her mom's occasion cutlery, and from it hazardously grabbed the long handled carving knife, cutting herself in the process.

Luckily with the adrenalin in her veins, she barely felt it, but it did open other doors for concern.

"You have hurt yourself, Mäuschen, you should be more careful. We wouldn't want to waste you."

Cassandra extended the knife out shakily in front of her, pressing her little body tightly into the corner counter. Her lip trembled when she spoke.

"I know what you are! Don't come any closer." She ordered loudly, angry, frightened tears streaming relentlessly down rounded cheeks.

The Strigoi grinned, clasping his hands together loudly. "Oh, 8230385, you have been passing your knowledge onto the younger generations. How very predictable of you." His hand swooped down, snatching the knife from her fingers in a heat beat, before carelessly tossing it aside. He sighed loudly. "And how pointless."

"N-n-no." Cassandra whimpered, pressing herself painfully into the work top, as his icy fingertips reached out and subtly grazed her pulse point. "Don't..."

He ignored her, of course, and his gaze wondered over her slowly.

"You have your grandfather's eyes, Mäuschen. It is like looking into the past. Tell me, what has he said to you of my kind?"

"Just stories." Cassandra whispered, her throat dry as she struggled for her voice once again. She swallowed hard. "Stories that his Bubbeh told him."

"I see. And you like these stories? Do they amuse you?"

Cassandra shook her head, her dark tendrils tumbling messily over her face. "They frighten me. Mom and dad disapprove."

"And yet you listen anyway."

Her face hardened, her little expression suddenly very intense, her eyes narrowing as they slowly met his.

"Grandpa says they are meant to frighten me. That they are told as warnings to whoever hears them. So that... that when the time comes, I will know what to do."

The Strigoi laughed, flashing his bloodied teeth widely. "Really? You are most amusing, Mäuschen! So very serious, just like your grandfather. And what is it that you need to do?"

"Kill you all."

Without thinking, and acting purely on instinct, Cassandra plunged a different knife into the Strigoi's chest. He fell back, surprised, and she wasted no time rushing for the yard door. She threw it open, running screaming into the cold November night. It was snowing again. She yelled louder, praying that the monster wouldn't follow her, her feet slipping on snow and ice, as she rushed blindly forward in a worsening frenzy.

Suddenly cars were around her, blurring her vision with harsh lights, and shouting at her with their garbled horns. Did they not know her parents were dead? Did they not realise the danger they were all in?

Her eyes found his once more.

Time stilled, and from across a snow blanketed patch of grass, she caught the gaze of the Strigoi.

He was mocking her.

Their connection lasted only for a moment, before, quite violently, her body collided with an oncoming car.

R&R!

Sooooo, what are we thinking? There aren't many stories to do with The Strain T.V series, so be gentle with your thoughts. I don't know why there aren't more. It's amazing!

I'd like to carry it on, I think I will regardless, but would be nice to see if people are enjoying it.

Peace out! X