Disclaimer: I don't own VTM:B

A/N: Hey guys, been awhile I know! I'm not sure if this chapter's gonna make up for the long wait, but I hope you like it. I just had no free time over Christmas between working in retail (which SUCKS during the holidays) and planning my up-coming wedding. I just want you to know I haven't forgotten you guys, or the story.

Happy reading!

Chapter Five

Struggling to keep her temper under control Billie ground out between her teeth, "I'm not doing it Jeanette!"

The woman in question pouted smudged red lips though her eyes narrowed in annoyance at being denied what she wished. "But Duckling, it's only some paintings! I don't see what's gotten you so upset about it, you want to make a good impression on Therese don't you?"

Jeanettes mascara streaks further down her cheeks than originally intended from her tantrum earlier when Billie refused to hand over the locket she recovered for Therese. Therese may have been an asshole, but she seemed like the kind of asshole that got things done – and releasing those spirits from the hotel was something beyond Billies abilities and Jeanettes as well, in her opinion.

"Those paintings are someones creations! They're passion! I'm not going to destroy something that somebody loves!" Billie shot back, the artist in her repulsed by the very idea of destroying someone elses creations. She wasn't a painter, but she still understood just how much passion went into all forms of art and how soul-wrenching it was to see it laid to waste. She refused to be the weapon that ruined someones dream.

She refused to be the cause of someone experiencing what she went through herself.

In an abrupt change of mood, Jeanette cocked her head to the side, blonde pigtails bouncing around her shoulders as she stepped forward into Billies personal space. The older Kindred caught the zipper of Billies jacket between two fingers, jiggling it playfully before slowly dragging it down, her mismatched eyes never leaving Billies blue ones. Long, curved, blood-red nails moved their way back up her torso scratching lightly against the clingy black and white striped sweater Billie wore underneath her jacket before stopping to twirl themselves in a lock of hair curling across her breast.

"Poor lost kitten," Jeanette crooned. "Poor little crumpled paper dancer. Don't worry, your steadfast soldier will put the shattered pieces of your music box back together."

Eyes unfocused, Jeanette began to hum tune of 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy' softly while continuing to twirl Billies hair around her fingers.

Crack!

The sound of Billies palm connecting with Jeanettes cheek echoed around the large lofty room, Billie going stiff with shock at what she'd just done. As her hand fell limply to her side, Billie watched as Jeanette fluttered mascara-laden lashes as though awakening from a deep sleep. Her green and blue eyes focused on Billie, taking in their proximity and the lock of hair still trapped in her fingers, and her lips curved into a coquettish smile.

"Oh kitten, were we about to do something...naughty?"

A plan quickly forming as she realised Jeanette had no recollection of what had caused Billie to slap her, she leaned closer and winked up at the slightly taller woman. "That's right, Jeanette. We're gonna play a little trick on your sister."

"Oh?" Jeanette sounded surprised and then a little disappointed. Stepping close enough that Billie could feel the press of her nipples through the fabric of their shirts, Jeanette continued huskily, "I could think of something much more fun we could do with far less clothing."

"But Jeanette, I respect you too much to just jump into anything like that," Billie said earnestly, catching one of the elder Kindred's hands between both of hers and rubbing her thumbs lightly over the back of it. "I don't just want to spend time with your body, I want to spend time with you. You're very witty you know, I like that."
Brow furrowed Jeanette slowly replied, "You respect my...wit?"

"Of course I do! Your company never gets dull," Billie schooled her features into a mask of disappointment. "Unlike your sister. Am I right in assuming she's always been the sort of person who couldn't appreciate a good joke?"

"Therese has always been a stick in the mud," Jeanette agreed, her signature smirk beginning to reappear.

"So," Billie leaned forward conspiritorially, "Let's play a little trick to show her just why she should treat you as an equal instead of treating you like a child."

As Billie leant over Jeanette's shoulder, watching her type up the email letting Bertram Tung know it was safe to come out and play, she couldn't help but feel a bit sad about how easy it had been to manipulate Jeanette into hacking Thereses email account. The other woman obviously craved acknowledgement for being something other than a sex-starved lunatic – especially by her sister. Something that would be a lot easier to achieve if she didn't dress like a two-dollar hooker, Billie mused.

"And...done!" Jeanette giggled as she clicked the send button. "Oh, duckling, I'd expect a message from Bertram anytime now."

Billies phone vibrated as soon as the words left Jeanettes smudged crimson lips.

I've heard you've been looking for me. When you're ready to talk, swing by the abandoned oil tank on 3rd.

Smiling wide, Billie swooped down and pressed her lips to Jeanettes cheek in a chaste kiss, moving back before the other woman could attempt to turn it into more. "Jeanette, you are amazing!"
Giggling, Jeanette replied, "I can't wait to see the look on Thereses face when she sees what we've done! Duckling, this was the best idea ever!"

The following evening Billie was halfway to her rendevous with Tung when an arm wrapped around her neck and roughly yanked her into the shadows of a garbage strewn alley-way.

Hot fetid breath blew against her ear, making her hair tickle the side of her face as her attacker chuckled, his other arm snaking around her waist and pinning her arms to her sides as he pulled Billie flush against him. Billie knew he was human, his body heat scalding despite her layers of clothing and his heart thrumming loudly in her ears. He smelled of dried sweat, stale tobacco, and the same burnt chemical scent that had permeated the crack-house at the beach.

Stiffening with anger Billie grit her teeth and lolling her head as far forwards as possible, flung it back with as much force as she could. Smirking at the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking she also drove the three-inch heel of her boot down on his instep, effortlessly shrugging out of his embrace.

Nostrils flaring as the heavy tang of his blood hit the air, Billie spun to face him.

She was Kindred! Not that weak little girl she was before! How dare some junkie Kine attempt to violate her?

"You bitch!" He spat at her thickly as blood coated his lips and chin, splattering onto his dirty white wife-beater as he spoke. "She said to kill you fast, but now I'm gonna take my time."

"She?" Bille demanded while eyeing him up. He was unhealthily pale with dark smudges around sunken eyes and three weeks worth of scruff dusting his jaw beneath the blood, stocky and not particularly tall or short. Average in almost every way. She had to stop herself from grabbing the gun still snug against her side until she found out who – in this particular case – wanted her dead.

"Yeah, the broad with the fancy words and the nice rack. Now hold still, this will only hurt a lot."

He had barely enough time to brandish his switch-blade before a bullet hit him dead on centre of his forehead, blood and brain-matter fanning across the filthy bricks behind him. The report of the gun echoed loudly in Billies ears as her would-be assassin dropped to the ground with a fleshy thump and the rustling of crumpled garbage. Tucking the gun back into her holster she zipped up her jacket, allowing her amazement from the surprising lack of recoil from the powerful gun and anger at Therese Voerman for trying to get her killed to distract her from the fact that she had killed a man. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours! How had she figured out Billies manipulation and ordered a hit on her that quickly?

Stepping back out onto the empty street, her phone began to ring. Fishing it out of her jacket pocket, Billie didn't even get a chance to greet her caller as Jeanettes frantic voice sounded loudly from the speaker.

"Therese has gone crazy! She sent someone to kill you!"

"I've dealt with it," Billies voice was strained but surprisingly steady. There was the sound of something pounding against wood on Jeanettes end of the line. "What's going on?"

"I've locked myself in the bathroom – she's trying to kill me! You've got to help –!"

The line went dead as Jeanette let out a violent scream.

Billie could barely contain the sudden rage effusing her. She had been angry before when she was alive, she was quite well known for her ability to switch from one extreme emotion to the other, but it was different now. It was a violent, almost blind, fury that she could hardly control.

When Billie arrived at the Asylum there was already a line curving down from the speakers reverberating through the cracked pavement. While her body-language appeared casual, her nails wer digging into her palms from their hiding place in her jacket pockets and her jaw was clenched so tightly her fangs were cutting into her gums, as she swept up the steps and burst dramatically through the doors of the club.

Sounds of complaint and protest of her line-cutting skipping died on the club-goers lips once they caught a glimpse of the barely controlled tempest swirling beneath Billies facade. Several people opting to party elsewhere.

The heat and sound of the club hit Billie like a physical wave of sweat, alcohol, drugs, pheromones, and an almost thunderous roar of blood. Enough so that she paused in front of the bar long enough for the large man behind it to notice her. Taking a deep unnecessary breath Billie understood why the Voerman sisters had chosen such a place as their Haven as the violent cocktail of lust and desperation it her tongue. It was just so obnoxiously human.

"Hey, sweetcheeks," the bartender called out. "Isn't a good time to visit the boss right now. She's squabbling something fierce with Jeanette again. Pull up a stool and I'll make you a drink while you wait."

"I'm done waiting." Billie all but growled.

Using the side of her fist to call the elevator, she adjusted her jacket to make sure her gun was concealed. Not wanting Therese aware of it, preferring the deranged Kindred to assume she was unarmed and underestimate her again.

As the elevator ascended the booming of the club lessened and was replaced by barely articulate screeching and the sounds of ripping fabric and smashing glass.

Billie stormed into the room and froze as she tried to process what she was witnessing.

The office was a shambles, splintered furniture and shattered glass littering the floor, the heart-shaped bed in the corner an eruption of white feathers and torn pink satin, the bathroom door kicked open from the inside. The giant painting of a man and who Billie always assumed to be the Voerman sisters as children was slashed down the centre, the canvas gaping open like a wound, and Billie found it even creepier than she had before.

Standing before it were Therese and Jeanette Voerman.

It was the weirdest mash-up of the two sisters that Billie had never imagined to witness. The right side of their face was quite obviously Jeanette, smudged ruby pout, raccoon eyes, and sloppy pigtail. The other side was all Therese with a bare face and her hair pulled into half a chignon. Her clothing was Thereses, except her grey suit skirt was hiked up several inches higher and her breasts were straining against her unbuttoned white blouse.

All this time the sisters had been the same person. And it became abundantly clear how Therese had managed to find out about Billies manipulations, and also that neither personality was aware that they shared a body.

What caught Billies attention the most though was the thirty-two Therese currently had levelled at her chest while Jeanette struggled to gain control of the gun herself.

"You!" Therese shouted accusingly. "This is all your fault! You and your meddling!"

"It's your own fault, you homicidal bitch!" Jeanette screeched, coming to Billies defense. "If you weren't such a control freak –!"

"If you weren't such a vindictive whore!" Therese cut Jeanette off. "Willing to rub up against anything that will warm your bed, fornicating with Kine – you disgust me!"

Jeanette laughed, the sound bubbling high-pitched and unbalanced over her crimson lips, "Oh, Princess Purity, don't talk to me about cleanliness...you and Daddy Dearest were about as unclean as a confessional!"

"Shut up!" Thereses voice was shrill and her hand shook as she gripped the gun so tighly her already white knuckles were practically translucent. "Cease your slanderous lies! Father loved me!"

Bille was working hard on keeping her features smooth and impassive, but the more she heard the harder it was to keep her eyebrows from creeping up her forehead in disbelief. No doubt she was still furious, the dull roar in her ears reminded her of that, but this was still the most bizarre situation she had ever been a part of. And that included discovering she was Undead.

All she could think was that she had only been Kindred for less than a week, did she really want to deal with this weird shit for the rest of forever?

Five days old and a sunrise was already starting to sound good. Well, shit.

Grinning wickedly, Jeanette winked at Billie. "You know, duckling, Therese wasn't always the pillar of Kindred society she so desperately presents herself as today. Actually, Baron Stuck-Up-Bitch was quite...what's that word you love to throw in my face, sister dear?" Jeanette paused dramatically before rolling the words off her tongue as though savouring the taste of them, "that's right...depraved."

Running the tip of her tongue along her lips, Jeanette continued, "Therese was Daddys favourite, you see, followed orders, never questioned anything – yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir!" She affected a pretentious accent before giggling.

"Don't listen to her, she's lying!" Therese interrupted, as though Billies opinion of her still mattered at this point. "You're just jealous, you spiteful little Jezebel, because Father loved me more! You were a constant stream of pain and disappointment! Bringing home men, rolling up your skirts, painting your face like a common whore! I was a source of comfort –!"

"You were a source of something, sister dear. Sometimes twice a night!" Jeanette interjected. "Did Daddy find something particularly comforting about white lace?"

"Shut up! You're pathetic!"
"Do you want to know her deep, dark secret?" Jeanette slyly asked. "One day Daddy came home practically wreathed in whiskey and mistakes me for Therese. I guess my painted mouth didn't offend him that much when it was wrapped around his –"

"Father would never!" Therese gasped as though personally offended by Jeanettes implication.

"Oh, did he ever!" Jeanette claimed smugly. "It was around that point that innocent Therese realised what was happening, I've always struggled with keeping my enjoyment to myself you see, and quiet as a mouse slips out of the room without Daddy noticing. When she returns, calm as anything, she levels his hunting rifle at his head and blows his brains all over the silly clown wallpaper!"

"That isn't what happened!" Therese protested. "You drove Father to drink, you may as well had put his finger on the trigger when he killed himself!"

"As I recall, he died with a smile on his face!"

During Jeanettes tale Therese had become highly agitated, and it appeared that Jeanettes quip was the final straw.

"I never should have Sired you, you ungrateful conniving whore! But now I'm going to fix that mistake!" Wisps of blonde hair curled around her temples and her hand shook with the force of her fury. There would be no reasoning with Therese, Billie realised.

Two options lay before her: one, she follows through with her earlier wish of vengeance and murders both of them, risking any punishment that might accompany the killing of an established member of the Camarilla. Or two, ensure the altercation resulted with Jeanette becoming the dominate personality.

Injecting as much fear and panic into her voice as possible, Billie reached out imploringly and cried, "Jeanette, she's going to kill us – grab the gun!"

After a split-second hesitation Jeanette grappled with Therese over the gun, and almost instantly it fired, the echo of the report deafening in the silence that followed.

Straightening, staring at Billie with pink stained cheeks and large eyes, Jeanette sobbed, "Duckling...what have I done?"

Jeanettes voice was lost, vulnerable...heartbroken. At the sound of it all Billies anger started to trickle away, pushed aside by the remarkably human urge to comfort the woman in front of her. She had gotten her vengeance, the cunning older Kindred essentially ended by her own hand, now it was left to her to pick up the pieces.

Dark blood bloomed across the left side of Jeanettes blouse, the side that Therese had been portrayed and it became clear that the Therese persona had been silenced by a bullet to the 'heart'. As Billie rushed forward she noticed that the bullet had passed through Jeanettes shoulder, only inches from having been one of the fatal wounds Jack had warned her about after the 'trial'. Hands curling around Jeanettes upper arms Billie peered up into her vacant eyes, the shock caused by her actions keeping a firm grip on her.

"Jeanette," Billies voice was quiet but forceful as she addressed her friend, maintaining both eye and physical contact. "You're hurt, do you have any blood-packs you can drink? You need to heal."

When all Jeanette did was gaze back at her blankly Billie broke eye-contact to quickly scan the trashed office. Catching sight of a mini-fridge turned on its side on Thereses side of the room Billie ran her hands down Jeanettes arms to twist their fingers together as she gently tugged the unresponsive woman towards the fridge. Disentangling one hand Billie bent down awkwardly and forced the door of the fridge open, letting a soft growl of frustration roll from the back of her throat when she found it empty.

Realising this meant she would need to find an alternate source of blood for Jeanette, Billie grew nervous. She had managed to avoid 'hunting' so far, surviving on blood-packs as the idea of...feeding on a person still made her uneasy. The part of her that was still that young human woman repulsed by what she saw as a monstrous act.

But as Jeanettes grip on her fingers tightened, Billie came to the conclusion that allowing her friend to suffer would be just as monstrous. Besides it would be Jeanette feeding, not her, she attempted to rationalize to herself.

Making her mind up Billie sat Jeanette down on the tattered remains of her bed and slowly began to extricate her fingers from Jeanettes grip. When they were almost loose Billie informed her, "Jeanette, I'm going to go bring you something to drink. Just...wait here a moment."

This was, apparently, the exact wrong thing to say as Jeanette let out a strangled sob and grasped at Billie like a person drowning. Her voice was barely a whisper as she frantically repeated, "Don't leave me alone, please don't go!"

With a bit of creative manouvering Billie managed to wrap one arm around Jeanettes shoulders, her face resting against Billies chest as the fingers of her free hand ran through Jeanettes hair, gently tugging the strands free of the mis-matched hairstyles. These attempts to sooth the frantic woman appeared to work as the crushing grip Jeanette had on Billies waist began to relax. Just in time too, as Billie was fairly certain a few broken ribs on her part wasn't going to help the situation.

"I feel so empty. Why am I so empty? It's awfully lonely in here."

Billies ears picked up the words Jeanette was murmuring against her breast and her feelings of guilt intensified.

"Jeanette," Billies voice was firm though her touch remained gentle. "I'm going down to the club. You need to heal, so I'm going to bring you back something to drink. I will come back, I promise, but this wound won't close properly without some fresh blood."

The wound itself had begun the steps of healing over, blood had long since stopped sluggishly oozing from the bullet-hole, but it seemed as though it was straining to finish the job. All Billie could come up with in explanation was that neither of the 'sisters' had fed this evening. Taking into consideration how emotionally high-strung the pair had been this seemed like a pretty likely speculation. Like people who work themselves up so much they forget to breathe and pass out.

"You promise you'll come back?" Jeanette asked in a soft little-girl voice, one that was vulnerable rather than dripping with sexual innuendo.

"I promise."

Billie didn't let her nerves surface until she was in the relative safety and privacy of the descending elevator. She began compulsively scrubbing at a bit of Jeanettes blood that had started to dry on her jacket, unconsciously bringing her fingers up to her lips to lick them clean afterwards. Her eyes widened as her mouth was flooded by the taste of something decadent and sickly-sweet. Staring at her fingers in shock she wondered if all Kindred blood tasted that way, but just as quickly she pushed the thought from her mind as she had a quiet feeling that it wasn't the sort of thing 'polite Kindred' would discuss.

Rolling her eyes at her actions, but doing them anyway, she unzipped her jacket and adjusted her bra so that more of her breasts were exposed above the neckline of her draping gray silk shirt.

Tossing her hair she exited the elevator with a swagger to her step that hadn't felt natural since before the accident.

Scanning the room she almost instantly found the perfect target.

A guy was leaning against the wall near the stage staring at the throng of gyrating dancers on the floor with a look of self-conscious longing. He was no where near unattractive, Billie observed, and she would describe his clothing as 'geek chic' complete with black-rimmed glasses. He just wasn't as self-confident as the friends he had come with tonight, who had more than likely forced him to join them. The same friends who had left him all alone.

Lucky for Billie.

"Don't dance either, huh?"

The guy jumped in surprise, not noticing that Billie was standing next to him until she spoke.

Nervously clearing his throat he replied, "It's not exactly one of my talents."

Leaning into him, Billie smirked and gazed at him through her eyelashes, "So, tiger, what exactly are your talents?"

Staring at her with a dazed expression on his face he pulled nervously at his collar, "Um – I uh – well, that is..." He stammered at her.

Smiling at him, Billie took the drink from his hand and placed it on a ledge near them before wrapping her fingers around his wrist. She felt a shiver of anticipation run up her spine as she felt his pulse thrumming against her touch.

"Why don't you tell me all about them upstairs? It's not as loud up there." She suggested, leading him back to the elevator when all he did was nod dumbly at her.

As the doors slid shut behind them his pulse suddenly spiked and Billie did the only thing she could think of to make him think that there was nothing untoward going on.

She kissed him.

When they arrived at the office he had red lipstick smudged on his lips and shirt collar and his glasses were slightly askew. He was so dazed he didn't even notice Jeanette upon him until it was too late, and didn't even register Billies soft, "Sorry tiger."

Billie forced herself to watch while Jeanette buried her face in the crook of his neck, wincing when she saw that the emotional Kindred was not being gentle. As it was, she had to intervene towards the end when it looked as though Jeanette was going to bleed him dry, coaxing her off the poor mans prone form on the floor. She took responsibility for him, running her tongue over the ragged puncture wounds Jeanettes zealous feeding had left until they healed, and then sucking lightly on the skin until the blood rose to just beneath the surface and left him with a hickey he would be able to show all his friends.

Billie put him in the elevator and sent him back downstairs to his friends with strict instructions that he go right to the bar and drink a glass of orange juice, not that she expected him to pay any attention to her in his barely coherent state.

I am not a monster, she repeated to herself like a mantra as she returned to Jeanette.

Billie spent the remainder of the night and the day with Jeanette, comforting her with gentle touches and soft words as she lulled her to sleep, the older Kindred curled up in her lap amongst the feathered remains of her bed.