A/N: Here's chapter five!~ Sorry for such the long hold, we've been crammed! Our process usually entails both of us writing the chapter, than one of us reading it over, but…when the one who does the read-throughs finds themselves extremely busy…it makes it very difficult to publish. That is the reason we are submitting a massive backload of chappies…So, without further ado, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bloodlines, but I do own my OCs. There is also a bit of raunch in this chapter, if you're not a fan, feel free to skim over it.

Fury didn't begin to sum up what Archie was feeling.

His room was dark. All the lights off, torn out of the sockets. Every electrical appliance disconnected, every window sealed and locked, covered by bedsheets, the door double locked. And he knew that wasn't enough.

He sat at the counter, a half-empty bottle of vodka joining him there. Rarely, he drank alone, but he never did drugs alone. Drinking, he could trust himself, to an extent.

She hadn't come back yet. He'd sent someone out to hunt her and was called back a day later. Only, the caller wasn't his assassin. It was her. She'd killed a Kindred.

Turns out ghouling that girl was a huge mistake. She built muscle like a bull, and her will was already a force of its own. He made yet another enemy.

The Anarchs had been kicked out of the state, that much he knew. He was okay with that, but at the same time, he was livid. That just meant the Camarilla had less distractions.

From their last meeting, Archie learned Gideon was still chasing Cadmus into his rabbit hole and keeping him there. That was good. It was exactly what Archie wanted. Well, maybe not exactly. He would have loved it if Vanderbilt was dead, but hidden away was just as good. It took a knife to the Camarilla's shoulder and twisted it around in there. The Sabbat was strong, for now, but the fact that the Camarilla's full attention would fall on them within a matter of days was still beyond daunting.

He took another swig of his drink, pain burning in his heart.

Not for his son.

Not for his questionably romantic inclinations towards Aschat.

Not for fear of the Camarilla.

For Garret.

He missed the bastard. He missed his original sire much more deeply than he would have ever thought. Sure, sometimes they didn't get along. Garret was always a little more casual than Archie ever was. Garret wouldn't mind sitting back in VV's club, paying for a few dances, taking a few girls home to play with before he released them again. Garret would toy with VV's emotions for fun, he'd take his time and dawdle when he was given orders.

Archie himself was very different. He was black and white, 'ascetic', Garret had called him. He didn't spend his 'free time' in clubs. He didn't have free time. He was always at work. Testing his girls to see who would make the most, hunting for a property to purchase, a girl to purchase, something that would get him more money. He'd toy with VV for the river of cash that flowed through her veins and out her eyes.

Part of Archie just found it amazing how easy it was nowadays to come across such wealth, and how so many people struggled. He simply couldn't fathom it.

He missed sitting back with Garret, (usually when his ally had forced him to 'relax'. A waste of time, in Archie's eyes), having a drink, smoking something new, watching his sire laugh when it gave him splitting migraines. In hindsight, every moment he spent idly with his sire wasn't a waste. It was somewhat enjoyable, having someone to talk to, someone to plan with, someone to laugh with.

He couldn't remember the last time he had a good laugh.

He finished the bottle, his head getting a little clouded. He rolled it back and faced the ceiling, leaning back in his chair. Killian came to mind.

He had to be dead. And if he wasn't, Archie doubted he'd ever see him again.

Why did he even feel slightly inclined to care about the son of a bitch? (Quite literally, in Archie's opinion). He was nothing like him, and yet, so much like him. The way they thought was nearly identical. He had an astounding grasp on socialization, he could worm his way into people's heads with unnerving ease.

At the same time, something Killian must have inherited from his mother was his sense of cause and effect. Or lack thereof.

Archie was the king of thinking ahead. Plan A had step one two and three, and each step could be cut at any point for safety. There was also always a Plan B, and C, with at least three steps and safety-routes. It used to take him a few hours to jot down these ideas, think through them and map them out. He remembered telling Killian it was part of his 'job'. It got to the point where Archie could do all this in his head. Come up with three to five plans, with up to ten steps, horde it in his head, and act it out without fail.

Tonight was a little different.

He wished Killian's mind wasn't tainted by those damn Anarchs. At the same time, he was sure it was his fault. He rested his head on the table and closed his eyes, his ears straining to tune into the sounds on the floors above and beneath him, mostly listening out into the hallways.

If he had raised Killian, maybe he'd be more inclined to follow his footsteps. Killian was no different than a teenage girl who didn't get along with her father. She ran away from him and swore she'd do the very opposite of what her very successful father did. She became a hooker, street trash, throwing herself away to instantly place her father in the failure bin. Killian was no different, running away towards the Anarchs in rebellion. Hoping to stain his father's record. Hoping that, if he died, people would turn to Archie in scorn, wondering what he did to raise such a pointless and futile child.

But the boy inherited too much of him. He was just as much of a cockroach as Archie was. He could have all his arms and legs cut off and find a way to get up and get going the next day. It was beyond infuriating. It was like he was shoving his lack of success in Archie's face.

Archie pulled himself away from his chair, hardly able to stand without grabbing the counter for support. He grabbed the two empty bottles of liquor, though he swore it was only one, tossing them into the garbage bin. The noise was loud, and maybe it gave away his location, but there wasn't much else he could do. He collapsed onto the couch and wiped a hand over his face.

He made no money today. Not a single penny added to his pocket. As a light hangover already started sliding into the back of his head, he urged himself to sleep. He'd likely awake by sunset and have time to slink out, look for money somewhere. As soon as he woke from his dreamless slumber, he spiffed himself up, took a handgun with him, then hit the streets.

Maybe a Nosferatu would be the best bodyguard for him. They could use Obfuscate so he would appear harmless, their appearance would also lead them to search for some sort of task on the surface anywhere. He was sure there were some desperate sewer rats somewhere who were craving to see Archie's lifestyle again. To see the girls who walked in and out of his apartment on a nightly basis, no less to see them completely baked. He doubted he'd have to pay much. They rarely had the chance to be stingy.

A cab slowly rolled over and looked up at Archie expectantly. Archie slid into the back seat, thinking for a moment.

"You good?"

"Hollywood."

"Sure…" The driver started. Archie's mind drifted off again. Most Nosferatu as of late had fallen into the Camarilla's arms. It would be very difficult for him to find one that was willing to help him, being Sabbat. But maybe it wouldn't be nearly as difficult if they didn't know he was Sabbat.

But, if they found out, they might try to kill him. So it was a better idea to stick to someone who wasn't in the Camarilla.

For now, Archie needed cash. If he wanted a bodyguard, he would have to pay well, and in order to do that, he needed a new regular influx of cash.

He pushed the door open as soon as he arrived and let the driver reach back and shut it as he walked towards the Elbow Room. He'd give it a better name, for sure.

The inside of the club functioned rather similarly to the other strip functions in town, though the décor was quite different. Whites and silvers were used throughout the interior of the building, which made the lightning interesting, at the very least. In terms of business, it didn't look any more or less busy than its predecessor, the Asp Hole.

One of the dancers approached him as he was surveying the scene, "Um…can I help you, sir?" She asked in a small voice.

He eyed over her briefly. Too small for his liking. All around. Also a little too quiet, her voice too high-pitched. "Your manager." He adjusted one of his cufflinks, "Where are they?"

She swallowed hard, "I'll show you to his office, right this way." She walked ahead of him.

Archie figured he might as well play along with the role she assumed he was. "Does he treat you and your coworkers well?"

"Of course, sir."

He hummed quietly to himself as he entered the office, a little quieter than the rest of the place. It was as basic an office for a club as Archie was concerned, with minimal decorations of any sort. At the desk was a man in a brown suit, with long brown hair, and a couple golden rings on each hand, "Mister Giovanni…sir, this…this gentleman would like to speak with you…I…I never caught his name, I'm sorry…"

The manager folded his hands and smiled, answering in a thick, Italian accent, "Very well." He motioned towards the door, and the girl scuttled her way out.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mister Giovanni. Mister Fitzroy." Archie held a hand out, "But, you can call me Archie."

"Archie, a pleasure to meet you." He shook his hand, "You're here for business, aren't you? I have a sixth sense with that sort of thing."

Archie flashed a bright grin, "Why, yes, it appears that sense of yours is quite sharp. This club of yours hasn't been yours for very long. I suppose you could say I've been…keeping an eye on it."

"Is that right?" He asked. Archie knew that by now, a more hostile clan would have jumped him already, but the Giovanni did like to brag about their spoils and their social achievements, "Correct you are." He mused, "I have many connections, you might say, I wouldn't have this club in the first place had it not been for some careful planning and a secure network of finances, but, one can never come to the city of angels too prepared, can they?"

"Connections?" He asked, "Interesting you mention that." Archie pulled over a chair and sat across from him, threading his fingers together in the classic evil-villain style. If only he had a white cat on his lap. "I'll cut to the chase. I'd like to purchase this club from you. It really should have fallen into my hands to begin with, but I was never contacted about its release." He sat up, "You see, I had a client who owned Vesuvius. She had family ties to the very owner of this club, when it was known as the Asp Hole. Unfortunately, the owner of Vesuvius passed away, as I'm sure you know, and it has fallen into my hands. The owner of the Asp Hole fled and…well, the building was supposed to be given to me." He sat back, "Now, I completely understand that this might seem brash and insulting. You did buy the place, you put a lot more effort into it than I might have, I must say. Therefore, I'm not expecting you to hand it over. I'd simply like to purchase it from you."

"The building is not for sale."

He gave a small smile, "Yes, I understand that. I'd be willing to pay a lot more than if it were."

"Unfortunately, I have no interest in selling the building." He said, "At least for now."

"What can I do to pique your interest, then? I assure you, cash should not be your only fear. I've been in this business a lot longer than you would think."

"What are you offering?"

"Depends what you're interested in."

"You're looking at seven figures, at the very least." He said, "Like you said, I did put work into the place, and relocating is an awfully inconvenient chore at the moment."

"Eight figures shouldn't be a problem. As for relocation, I can handle that as well." He sat back and crossed his legs, grinning, "I'll set you up a new club, if you'd like. I believe there's a high-demand lot in New York I could arrange."

He seemed wary, "Give me time to think it over."

"Of course. It shouldn't be a problem." Archie stood up, "I do have business to attend to. I apologize for the timing as well." He smiled again, "I've always been more of a night owl."

"Yes, we will meet again, Mister Fitzroy."

Snickering could be heard in Skelter's house as the elusive seventh member of their group finally returned after a night of disappearing, he looked around at the other six, at how hopeless and desolate they were, "Come on guys, trouble in paradise?"

"Where have you been?" Catalina asked.

As usual, the moment Catalina opened her mouth, Sirius's smile vanished, he rolled his eye, "What, you and Cissy are the only ones allowed to leave this shithole?"

"No…but…"

Skelter walked in, something a little different about the way he held himself. A little taller than before. "Everyone here?"

Killian looked around, drinking a blood pack absent-mindedly, "Think so." He said.

"We're out of here by Thursday. I booked two motel rooms for us to say in on the edge of the state, should take enough time for a cab to get there before sunrise. I'll catch up the following night, then we move out."

"Thursday…" Damsel said, giving a little nod, "Okay. That should work."

"To Arizona?" Sirius asked.

"For now." Skelter nodded.

"Huh…been a while since I've been there…"

"Any Jyhad nonsense over that way?"

"Not anything that I remember."

"Good." Skelter nodded, before he turned and headed in another direction, which left the impromptu meeting adjourned.

Damsel leaned against one of the counters, "Alright…he seems better, right?" She asked quietly.

Anastasia didn't answer, she just looked out the window listlessly. Catalina shrugged, "At least he's talking again…"

"Yeah, I finally got him talking again the other night." Damsel muttered, "Honestly, he's more of a dog now than a person. You piss him off and he'll growl at you."

"And he's our new leader? We're letting a dog-person lead us?" Cissy asked, "Why don't you take over?"

Damsel shook her head, "Skelter spent a long time with Nines. Longer than any other Anarch, I think. He knows how Nines would think and…hopefully…he'll embody some of that. Regardless, he's been in the movement the longest. He knows what's best for us…we'll just have to make sure he keeps on top of himself."

"He better know what he's doing." Sirius said.

"I know he doesn't." Cissy muttered, "Did you guys want to go get some more blood with me?"

"I guess it isn't a terrible idea…" Damsel looked over her shoulder towards where Skelter went, "Anastasia, you stay here."

"We'll be quick. Just grab it and go." Cissy said, then she grabbed Sirius's coat, "We definitely need you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm basically indispensable." Sirius shrugged, following them.

Killian started following the others, then turned over his shoulder and saw Anastasia. He knew he should leave her. He knew she would be better off alone, better off crying by herself, better off wishing she was dead by herself.

He stopped and let the door close in front of himself, taking a step closer. But it was nothing invasive, there was a reasonable gap there. Reasonable enough for Skelter to dismiss if he came in.

"We'll be alright." He finally found his voice.

"I know." She stood up.

He looked away, "I mean, part of you has to get it. You're both the same clan, you both have that same voice inside that kinda…can drive you off the edge." He crossed his arms, "They always slump Gangrel and Brujah together, but…it goes without saying your clan has a harder time controlling it." He thought for a moment, "He was really close to Nines, it'd…it'd be like if Cadmus died. I'm surprised he hasn't…you know…" He shook his head, "But look, I…I have no room to lecture you. You don't have to listen to me, you could…kill me here, right now, if you want…really, you could, but…all I want to say is…" He looked back at her, "Your heart is yours. Don't let anyone take it. Not him, not me, not Prince fucking Charming. You hold onto it and keep it safe, and you'll be alright. No one can keep that shit safe forever except for you, regardless of promises and golden rings." He looked back at the floor, "And…forgive yourself, too. I know you're blaming yourself for something in this fucking mess."

She gave a slight nod, one that he could barely see. She sniffed, brushing a fresh set of tears away.

He pulled another blood pack from the cooler and tossed it on the counter, it slid and landed a little distance away from her, "Talk to him if he's pissing you off. He's not giving you a thought right now, I can tell that much. It's never gonna get addressed if you don't say anything."

She looked down, giving an empty sigh. Maybe he had a point. But would she give him the satisfaction of grabbing the blood pack he had more or less given her? Or give him the satisfaction of marching up to Skelter right now to have a talk with him? What would the point even be? Skelter would just tell her what she wants to hear next, and then Killian. Skelter. Killian. Skelter. Killian. She clenched her hands into fists, apparently destined to be nothing more than a duo's rebounding hacky-sack.

His eyes flickered down to her fists, "Or tell him to fuck himself." Killian said, "And me too, but, I already got the message. Tell Sirius, Damsel, Catalina, Cissy, it doesn't matter. Your heart is yours, you have control of it, don't let them toy with you and just rely on your easy-going nature. You can't be easy-going when you're being used as a doormat. Giving in just means you just have no resolve, it's different than who you are." He leaned against the wall and looked outside, "And just because all this Nines shit is going on doesn't mean you don't matter."

"I know."

He gave a little nod, "Alright. I'll go outside and watch the place…call if you need anything. I think he's inside, right?"

"Pretty sure."

He nodded and headed outside, grabbing Damsel's shotgun on the way out. There was a little bit of silence, and then some puttering sounds from downstairs in the basement. The peace was nice, until she heard his footsteps upstairs.

Skelter seemed quite confused, "The hell did everyone go?"

"They went to get supplies." Anastasia said, her face dry of tears at this point, and she was all the more thankful. She wanted to confront Skelter like Killian said, but she didn't know she was going to have to do it now.

"Supplies?" He asked, then he gave a little nod, "Alright, guess that could be worse…" He took a deep breath, "Do you know what exactly they were looking for?"

"Blood."

"Oh, good. Alright, that's good then, we could use more of that." He flipped open the cooler then closed it, pacing back and forth in the small kitchen, which nearly left her motion-sick.

She crossed her arms, taking a deep breath, "So this thing you have to take care of, it's Victor, isn't it?"

"Course it is."

"By putting a bag over his head?"

"Look, unless you got ideas, I don't want to hear it. I know it's dumb, I know it's stupid. Whatever happens, happens. I'm gonna stay on my feet. It's gonna be spontaneous and dangerous. If I come up with a plan, it's gonna be a waste of time, because he will find a way to screw it over."

"Fine, you never listened to me anyway."

"I'm not doing this because I don't want to listen to you. I'm not trying to rebel. I'm doing this because that jackass needs to die." He turned and looked her in the eye, "Nines isn't the only guy he wanted dead, remember? He wants you and me more than any a' the other Anarchs."

"That doesn't mean we should just take him head on in a fight."

"Then what do you suggest?"

She looked away, "Just forget it." She said, "Go do what you have to do. Go…get yourself completely destroyed by Victor, if it's what you want so badly…"

"I'm doing this for us."

She closed her eyes, "Fine…"

"I'm not gonna just let him get to me." Skelter said, "I'll be careful."

"Okay."

He paused, closing his eyes, "This is what we're set out for now, you know. Without the Last Round, without a state. This is what it was like when I was Embraced. You took huge risks, and by some mysterious power of hell, you survived. That's what Nines and I did for years before he told me about California and we finally settled down. The Last Round was a comfort bubble. That's why Nines was never on edge. That's why Nines was never in a bad mood, or nervous, or scared. He had no reason to be, that was home for us. What we're doing now, this new movement, it's got nothing. We have no base, no supporters, no stock or weapons. It is dangerous, but this is who we are. It's practically in our blood to survive times like this. This is our Anarch movement now, until we can find and ally with another."

"Okay."

He rested his hands on the counter and looked over at her again, "It means we gotta stick together more than ever. I'm not doing this to upset you." When she started to leave the room, he said, "Hey!" He followed after her, "Now you're the one who's not listening." He reached out to grab her by the wrist.

She whirled around with a snarl, "Just get away from me!" She said, pausing in half-surprise at her own volume, then she lessened her tone, by only a hair though, "Don't you have work to do?"

He took a step back, "I don't know what you want from me." He said quietly.

"Some time alone would be lovely."

His eyes flickered around before he turned away and gave her space, going back into the basement.

A bored sigh left Angel's nose as he lay sprawled on the couch, his head on Prospero's lap, his butt on May's.

Prospero figured if it were any other dog, May would be throwing a fit.

She looked just as bored as her dog, flipping through the pages of some playboy magazine, muttering little things and judging every girl inside, saying how her hair would be better here or how her hips would like nicer there.

Reruns played on TV, a glass of wine sitting there beside it that May had only taken one sip of. She must have forgotten about it. She turned a page. "Did you want me to get you something to drink?"

"Nah, it's fine." He said quietly.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, saying one of the only things she could really think of to help him, "I love you."

"I love you too." He said, even quieter than before, no doubt he had been getting more and more disheveled with each passing day.

As she reached forward to hug one of his arms, Angel grew uncomfortable and got up, prancing off elsewhere. She scooted in closer and kissed his shoulder, rubbing a hand over his chest.

He sighed, "I hate that there's nothing I can do about this…"

"I do too." She said, "Slade and April keep telling me they're planning on it. But…I don't know. I don't know what I can do to help."

"It's alright, it's impossible…there's nothing anyone can do…" He said, "I guess I'll never be able to kill Giuseppe…not with Vaska lying in wait…"

"Stop saying that, we will sort this out." She said firmly, closing her eyes slowly, "That bitch will die."

"But we both just clarified that we don't know how she would."

"That doesn't mean it won't happen. I don't understand calculus but it still exists."

He snickered, every time she thought he would stop laughing, he just kept going.

She smirked, "If there are thousands of teenagers figuring that out on a daily basis, I think someone can figure her out too."

"I'm not so sure about that…but…we can hope…"

She took his hand with both of hers, closing her eyes as she rested her head against him, "I…I really like how big and muscular you are…" She said quietly, "Muscles always look so hard and strong but…they're so soft and comfortable when they're relaxed…"

"Hmm, I'm glad I can be of entertainment."

"Mmm hmm…" She leaned over so she was lying in his lap now.

He rubbed her side, "Hey…thanks for dealing with me…when I'm like this…"

She rolled over so she was facing up and could meet his eye, "Dealing with you? We're going through this together. I don't understand."

"I know…but…I feel like I'm unintentionally cutting you off or something…" He said, now rubbing her stomach once she turned, "We don't joke around or chat as much…"

She closed her eyes, feeling a bit of heat between her legs from his touch, "I know…not everything can be happy all the time, and I'll be there for you even when it isn't…"

"That's why I was thanking you. I'm…I feel…great that I have you around, to be there to help me." He said, "You're like an angel…"

She smiled and sat up a bit to kiss his lips. He kissed her back, giving her a hug, "It's funny how you get turned on at the drop of a pin."

"W-What?" She held herself back an inch or so.

He moved her back to where she was, slipping a hand through her robe and pressing at her waistline, "This?" He raised a brow.

Her head moved back, "Prospero…" She murmured.

"Yes?"

The look on her face was a huge turn-on, she was already so desperate and thirsty, "Prospero…" She begged.

"Yeah?"

She shook her head a tiny bit to dismiss him, clawing at him a bit. One of her hands pushed his downward towards her panties. He tackled her over on the couch, laying on top of her and getting his shirt off, then his pants, as he started making out with her.

She did her best to kiss him back, but it seemed she wanted to put her lips all over his neck and shoulders. Her hands desperately grasped at his back and her legs flew around his so she could initiate some sort of friction between them.

He reached up and grabbed a breast with one hand, squeezing it mercilessly while he squeezed a butt cheek with another, only stopping to take his underwear off and reveal his throbbing member.

Her narrow eyes burned with lust as she bit at his shoulders and pulled her panties down. She then paused, "Prospero…can we do doggy-style…?"

"Sure." He got off of her to give her some room to reposition. She rested her forearms on the arm of the couch, her knees on the cushions.

She turned over her shoulder, "Do you have enough room?"

"I think I should make out fine." He smiled.

She pulled her robe off and faced forward, shuddering with anticipation. He rubbed his shaft against her bum a bit to enlarge the erection a bit further, before he finally moved in and pushed her forward, holding onto her with both arms to make sure the penetration could both be felt and last.

She gasped as he pushed through, then cried out with pure ecstasy. Her body caved in towards him, her back arching downwards as she moved her hips back to meet each one of his thrusts, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster, in a sputtered, high-pitched voice.

One arm was wrapped around her legs, trying to keep them stable, and the other was on the small of her back as he kept humping her relentlessly. Groans and gasps continued to pass through her lips as her walls shuddered around his length. Finally, as she gave a nearly earsplitting squeal she was able to reach her climax. She panted afterwards, still riding it out as long as she could before her legs grew weak and she could hardly handle him.

"I think I found out your favorite position." He said, a smug grin on his face.

"I think so too…" She collapsed there, peeking up at him with her dark blue eyes, "I think I just…love you doing anything remotely near my ass…"

"That's a logical conclusion."

She tangled herself around him as soon as she could, kissing his jawline, "…honestly just thinking about it gets me all hot and bothered…"

"I mean, we could go again."

"I don't know if I could handle that…"

"Then let's just go to sleep." He kissed her cheek.

A/N: Just when you thought the Giovannis had slipped out of relevance…(I really wish they had…) Thanks for reading!