A/N: Here's chapter forty-two! The return of the roommates! How I've missed them…Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bloodlines, but I do own my OCs.

"I've noticed something about you three." Strauss said, "There seems to be a something that…resonates…between you all."

Slade smiled, looking from Dragomir on his left, to Tess on his right, "You could say something like that, yes."

"We've known each other for a very long time." Tess said, "Those two since they were children."

"I see." Strauss said, "And of course, there was the siege on LaCroix's tower. I believe you were all there for that…" He mused, "Fonder times, surprisingly."

"Debatably…" Tess murmured, looking away, while Dragomir gave his deep and haunting laugh.

There was a light, timid knock on the door, "Hmm?" Slade asked, "Who's that?"

"The fourth Kindred I have planned to enter." Strauss said, raising his tone only slightly, "You may enter."

The sound of her heels were light yet sounded firm, "Hello." She said quietly, like she wasn't sure if she should have said it at all.

"Aw." Tess said quietly, watching her enter and tip her hat.

"Delilah is one of the apprentices in the Chantry." Strauss said, "She will aid you on your mission."

"And what is this mission, exactly?" Slade asked.

"Recently, the Sabbat have been taking drastic measures at injuring our forces." He explained, "They've been going to residential areas, trying to eliminate us one-by-one, rather than take on this tower specifically. We are going to modify that strategy, and use it against them."

"Whoa…so…we're gonna go to a Sabbat guy's house and kill him?"

He nodded, "I have many spies informing me as much as they can." He said, looking at Delilah and smiling, "Delilah has informed us that most Sabbat members live in Lafayette's castle, similar to how most of us live in the red tower. But there are exceptions."

The three roommates looked at Delilah, "You went undercover, without getting caught?" Slade asked.

"Yes, that's right." Delilah nodded.

Dragomir, meanwhile, snickered away, "You dirty little thing. You'd better be careful around me." She looked up at him with a bit of nervousness, then turned back to the Prince, obediently waiting for his next directions.

"In the ensuing nights, you will be sent over to Sabbat territory, most likely in Las Vegas…to assassinate their personal. I will gain more information as I am able, and you will be notified when your transport is ready. If you're fortunate, this will only take a few nights." Strauss said.

"Yes sir. It will be done." Delilah gave a small bow.

Dragomir on the other hand gave a slightly irritated sigh, nonetheless he nodded, "Ensuing nights, you say…how ensuing?"

"Once I conclude a few meetings." Strauss said.

"Very well." Dragomir agreed.

Despite how high they were in the red tower, Derek's brow twitched with irritation upon the sound of a nearby firetruck, blaring its horn. Even in the daylight, those pathetic humans couldn't keep their piggish noses out of trouble.

It was a bad habit he had picked up, insomnia. Bad especially for Kindred. He'd lie in bed for hours anyway, gather an hour of sleep in spurs of five minutes at most, so what difference did it make if he paced around the place instead, the curtains shut, the lights off? Ella couldn't hear, or if she had, she didn't care.

He was just fine during the daylight hours.

Today, he sat on the couch, staring at the ceiling, thinking of her. Oh, but when wasn't he thinking about her. He told himself he was guilty as much as he told himself he wasn't. His thoughts weren't always inappropriate, however. Sometimes, and a good portion of the time, he wondered if he was treating her well, just on an intrapersonal level. In all honesty he had no clue what the proper sire-childe relationship was supposed to be. He knew what it wasn't supposed to be. He knew why he never would sire a childe so long as he lived, despite what he'd been taught.

His hands curled into fists. Not fists of anger, or pain. Fear. Why did she always smile when she dropped the burning match in his palm, and why did he never snap back?

Curiosity caused him to look at the flesh there, in the center of his palm. Five mistakes. During his agoge, he made five mistakes that spurred his sire to punish him physically. He remembered the way her gloved hands danced across a thin stack of paperwork as she told him how trifling and meaningless physical punishment was. How she could never resort to something so horrid.

His dead lungs filled with cool air as he pictured the sight of ashes.

It should have granted him solace. The night a representative of some sort stopped by the mansion and told him his sire had been burned to death after her dress had caught at the gala. He was about two nights away from being introduced to the Prince.

Of course it caused uproar. It was why he was in the position he was in now. He remembered sitting in that bowed-head position before the nameless elders he was never taught of, listening to the nameless rules they had come up with that he hadn't known.

They gave him awkward pity. Some mentioned similar cases where they simply advanced the neonate regardless of the sire's final declaration, others mentioned killing him off as a waste of their time.

They decided to compromise. An elder Derek couldn't even remember the name of introduced him to the Prince in a highly formal way that made his skin crawl with terror, then he was dropped off the edge of the world in a quiet city and told to either give in and die, or make his name known. He had to establish his influence without the help of any other Kindred.

It was a task he failed. Derek Parker did not wear failure well.

He resented his sire from then on, and still did. He remembered his Embrace well, the night itself, how enamored he was with her. He thought she was The One.

His blood boiled as he remembered the scowl on her face. She'd ask the most trivial questions! She might as well have asked what color her socks were that evening, and she'd be furious in an instant. His snippy and sarcastic answers certainly didn't help. No amount of threats doused that.

Only the strike of a match.

He recalled waking one night in a warm hold of hers, tip of her tongue tracing his ear. She leaned in to whisper something erotic, perhaps, but she only cursed his impure blood and burned his shoulder with the candle on the night stand.

Fire was her favorite weapon because it was so clean and terrifying to him.

Ella came to mind again. How pure she must have thought of him. How impressive he must have seen. He knew some things, but, he couldn't call himself a Ventrue. His heart burned when he thought about it. Ingrates such as Sebastian LaCroix were able to call themselves Ventrue due to nothing but circumstance, but because his twit of a sire decided to light herself on fire, he was left nameless? Oh, what a city would he have, what a country, what a world it would be if he could own it.

It was idiotic. It was all entire idiotic. Working for a Prince, hoping to attain dignitas through respect for a Tremere Prince. Was his apprenticeship of Ella even worth it if the Prince viewed him as nothing but an underling? He would never attain attention until he established his own territory, but by now, he had already muddied his hands with Kindred guidance.

He held his forehead and seethed with the same burning rage that consumed his head for the past sixteen years every night. If he was alive, he was sure his mother and father would have sought out some sort of medication in rabid fear of their son's decline. Derek never approached a frenzy, but he did approach smashing some furniture, cursing something foul and signing his name up for the Sabbat.

If she hadn't lit herself on fire, he would be capable, and it was that feeling of unforgiving that he warped into his arrogant nature. If he couldn't properly be a true Ventrue, what kept him from acting like it?

The man sought control, in life and in death. When he missed valedictorian in high school, his parents took him to a therapist after he nearly broke his brother's arm in a fit of rage. When Harvard didn't accept him and he could only afford Yale, he was prescribed medication. When his first date never showed up, he stalked her, and, that was fortunately where his sire bumped into him.

In death, he sought Ella as his outlet. As his therapy, his medication, his stalking.

The grandfather clock in the corner jolted him. He wanted to throw it out the window. He stood up, his back aching from the uncomfortable position he was in for so many hours. It was when Ella's door creaked open that his anger boiled down, infinitesimally, at least.

He couldn't stand being cross with her. He wasn't sure how Aileen did it.

She crossed her arms, "We need to talk."

He rubbed his brow, "You should be in bed…what time is it?" He stood up to look closer at the clock that he couldn't see in the dark room.

"I should be in bed, huh? The sun just set."

He stared at the clock in confusion, "Oh…it appears I've…lost track of time." He chuckled softly, in his button down shirt and pants, without the blazer or tie. "Another late meeting, I suppose." He bluffed poorly, sitting again, "Were you thirsty?"

"No."

There was a moment where Derek seemed to be reaching in his bucket for polite gestures and came up emptyhanded. "Very well. Did you want to go to the graveyard then? What's on your mind?"

"No…we need to talk about you…" She gestured her hands out, "And your various episodes."

He looked confused, offended, "I do apologize if I kept you up, but there is nothing you need to concern yourself with." He stood up, and for some reason, the difference between talking to him standing and sitting was a little more daunting than she had thought. He looked like he could walk across the room and hit her right across the face.

But of course, she knew just as well that he would rather die than think about something so disgraceful.

"Oh yeah?" She raised her brow, "Then why are you that one Kindred's slave? The other two hardly seemed to like you either. What's going on?"

"Oh." He sighed through his nose, "That." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, darling, I'll explain at a later date, alright? For now, the cretin seems tame enough to stay away from you…if that ever changes, then I'll handle it…you're safe, is all I'm saying."

"But what happened?"

"That…that is what happens when you abuse Dominate." He paced towards the counter, his eyes drooping briefly with exhaustion, but they snapped open like nothing had happened, "I…had influenced him to…consume the vitae of an Anarch. To kill two birds with one stone. I did not know, however, that there was a very, very, and I mean extremely trivial." He turned and looked at her like it was of upmost importance, "Tiny, tiny tie to the Camarilla in his head. So…in order to not provoke the Prince or the Primogen or any…of the upper branches of Ventrue, we settled upon a…compromise. That is all."

"A compromise, huh?"

"That's right." He opened the tiny refrigerator and took out a bottle, pouring himself a glass, and another for her, out of habit more than anything else. "He tells me to jump…I ask how high…"

She sat down and took a sip, "So your life is in his hands?"

"I wouldn't go as far as saying that." He snorted, "It's not quite that serious. You saw the effect of it, I loan money, complete…trivial tasks for him. It's really no different than a jobs a childe would do for their sire, but, in our case…" He shook his head, "He's been a Kindred for perhaps one year, and I've already made him one of the most powerful Kindred in the entire tower."

"They all hated you."

"Yes." He took a sip of his glass, then stepped over towards her, "You act as if that bothers you."

"No, it bothers me that it doesn't bother you."

"Of course it doesn't bother me." He scoffed, "In the grand scheme of things, why does it matter if a handful of fledglings dislike me? Do you think when the Prince my age, when he was at the bottom rungs of the ladder, he was a saint? Do you think everyone viewed him as a god? Of course not. It took time and patience, practice and respect. I'll gain that with or without them. They are not important. None of these people are. The people I need to impress are those above me. The same goes for you."

"Phaedra doesn't like you either, and she's above both of us."

"Phaedra doesn't count either. Her clan isn't part of the Camarilla, and she wasn't raised into it. She's here, the Prince granted her a stay, but she could leave and become Sabbat tomorrow and no one would give a damn."

"She killed a high-ranking member in the Sabbat…" She said, "Doesn't sound too flaky to me…"

"Flaky…" He repeated, never hearing the word used in such a way, "That is exactly how I would describe her. The only reason that woman is here is for the benefits. Real members of the Camarilla aren't riding the waves during the good times. They're facing the force of the storm, standing tall when it caves in. She was raised in an environment where running is ideal, and clinging to the healthiest host is the key to survival. That is how Independents work." He said, "They run, hide, and cling." He sighed, then shook his head, "I've had enough thinking and talking about politics." He drank most of his glass, "Simply put, my path to Princedom is set. It will take time and a considerable amount of work, but…I will get there, regardless of how…odd things seem now."

"You're going to be Prince?" She humored, "How?"

"Many Ventrue become Princes eventually." He said, "Consider this…consider this an internship." He said, "I will gain respect from this Prince, my work here will go on my record. I'll take that to the upper classes and they'll grant me a city, if I'm lucky, and from there…" He shrugged, "I've always been a leader, Ella. It's just a matter of somebody finally giving me the position. I've never had the opportunity to take it. There's always something in the way. Displaying my skills as a mentor and a teacher through you is a fantastic way to attract that sort of attention. A Ventrue, teaching an extinct clan how to be loyal to the Camarilla…" He practically sighed, "They might as well hand me New York." He lauded, "Especially if they knew of your temper." He sat beside her.

"Derek, you sit in your room all night and watch porn. I think you need to be a bit more realistic with what you really amount to here."

He scowled, "Your abysmal opinion of me is what I find most offensive."

She gave a bored sigh, "It isn't an opinion, it's fact."

He sat back and crossed his legs, "I never liked my sire either. I'll take it as a compliment. It means I'm teaching you well if you're growing irritated with me. The best teachers are the most demanding."

"Get real. In the Society of Leopold, the generals were strong, brave men, who were capable of strategy and sticking to their values, their morals." She looked him in the eye, "And they're made up of humans, things you hate. So it's a little sad to see the smelly apes get it right before you do."

"You still cling to your humanity." He looked away, "You'll see my side of the story in due time. My sire said the same things to me."

"If I'm anything like you, anytime soon, I'll consider myself a failure."

He turned to her, a light glare in his eye, then he said, "Good. As you should feel. It is my duty to raise you better than I am."

"Yeah, well…maybe I should opt for someone else."

"You can't just…select another sire…" He chuckled, "Not anymore, at least. You chance for that has come and gone." He sat up, "Rant and rave all you'd like, but you can't change anything. You're going to have to get over it, am I understood? Too much of this attitude you're displaying now and you'll find yourself in deep trouble."

She stood up, "All I have to do is tell Strauss that the Kindred he selected for me is dysfunctional, and I'll be transferred."

And just like that, he snapped.

He stood up and forcefully set his glass on the table. She wouldn't be surprised if he had activated some form of Presence. She could hear the silence. It was a high pitch buzz that rang from the sharpness of his movements to the flick of his glare. "You should be thankful." His voice was softer, it was different, very, it was uncomfortable.

"No. I'm not. There are tons of other more capable Kindred—"

"You should be thankful you aren't a Ventrue." His voice boomed over hers without any sort of strain at all. She had never heard him raise his voice, and after this, she didn't want to. "You should be on your hands and knees, thanking me for not raising you in the same fashion every other Kindred in this building has had to go through!" He snapped, stepping up just an inch before her before he stopped and seemed to hang there, suspended.

"There is no agoge for you. There is no trial, no tests, no questions or answers, no examinations, no dinner halls, no meeting places, no formal introduction to Princes!" He continued, shouting in her face, "You have nothing, and yet you spout out more flagrant disrespect to the kindness I've granted to you than any of the fledglings I've met!" He tore himself away from her in a rage, balling his hands into fists, "God, if you had this audacity! If you were a Ventrue and you did act like this, the amount of hell you would go through for just the look on your face! Just that tone in your voice, moving your hand the wrong damn direction, you'd be lit on fire by now, hell, the building would be burnt to ashes!" He shouted, the silence dead from the hanging he gave it. His heels were deep and constant as he thudded back over to her, "So before you decide to open your mouth and speak to an elder, a step-sire in a fashion that an irate teenage girl would use to her disorderly father…" His face loomed in inches above hers, "I would consider your position in this scheme." His eyes narrowed, his voice a cruel whisper, "Am I understood, Miss Ella?"

"No one likes you here." She said, "So it stands to reason that you've been complained about to the Prince a fair amount of times." She said, "So if I say you're incapable of teaching me, then that'll probably be it for you." She concluded, "Checkmate."

He grabbed for her wrists, "If you complain to the Prince, then you have no right to be in the Camarilla at all."

"Ew, get your grubby hands away from me!" She backed away, "I want someone normal! I don't want you!"

"You can't pick and choose everything in your life, you must deal with the cards you are dealt." He snarled.

"Not this time." Her voice went cold, "Since the second I walked in here, I've been more important than you. You've done this to yourself, bury yourself, burn bridges, cut yourself off from your fellow Kindred. If I make just a little bit of noise, you're dead meat."

"And what would you get out of that?" He asked lowly, "You think you can escape pain? Escape, what, discomfort? You haven't even thought about the guilt, have you?" He laughed, "Let me tell you all about it…"

"Anything would be better than you." She snapped, "Everyone else is so happy and content, even though we're at war…you just skulk around like a rat!"

A grin suddenly jolted onto his face, "Do you want to know what would make me stop sulking?"

She backed towards the door, opening it, "Don't make this any sadder than it already is."

"Don't you dare go to the Prince."

"…goodbye Derek."

"Ella." He shouted, "Don't make me do it."

"Do what? Dominate?" She held her cross out, "Doesn't work on me."

One of his eyes twitched. He tried Presence instead. A minute or two went by, as she raised a brow, then she left the room.

"Ella, come back!" He called, taking a few steps after her, "We'll sort this out in here like adults." He looked away, then looked back, "I don't even know what this is about! Just come back and talk to me!"

"You're not even an adult to start with."

"Oh, come now. Let's talk." He kept the door open for her.

"No."

"Ella. Please."

"No, accept your new fate with dignity."

"Ella…"

"What's this about?" They heard a voice, Phaedra stood in the doorway in her robe, "Some of us are quite busy not having domestic troubles."

Derek sneered, "Get your nose out of this, witch."

Phaedra looked over towards Ella, "Do you need a distraction while you run?"

Ella's eyes lit up the second she saw Phaedra, she gave a quick nod.

"What's this about now?" Phaedra stood in Ella's way to give her coverage if Derek tried to chase her, "Did you try and rape her now? I hear that's surprisingly common in Ventrue."

"I would never—"

"Especially Ventrue who are having trouble with power management."

"That isn't—"

"What's the matter, Derek?" Phaedra cooed, "I just don't think you're ready for a childe. It isn't something for everyone. Especially those who aren't even capable of caring for themselves. I'm sure the only reason you really wanted her was so you could have someone hold your pieces together, hmm?"

Derek looked away, then went in his room and slammed the door shut. Phaedra chuckled and looked back to Ella, "Looks like one less nuisance for the Prince…though I wonder who he'll give you away to next." She strolled back down the hall towards her room.

She looked back, her face rueful as she heard the sound of both doors closing. The hallway was so quiet with her, all by herself, cold and alone. She went back and knocked on the door, "Derek?"

There was a slight pause, then it creaked open. She saw him there, properly looking scared.

She slipped in through the tiny crack, then closed the door behind herself, "Hey…maybe…things…uh…escalated…"

"Yes, I agree wholeheartedly." He looked away from her, "I'm terribly sorry. Please don't leave."

"I won't." She said, her voice was gentle, "I just…you're very distant…compared to everyone else…but…it's because you were burned, and treated horribly by your previous sire…"

He rolled his eyes, "It's just the agoge, the other Ventrue endured the same treatment."

"You need help."

He crossed his arms, "As do you."

She scowled, "Shut up! You're about an inch away from death's door and you don't even care! You just wanna pout in here like a goddamn child!"

"I am not pouting."

"Yes you are! Even a hunter-turned-vampire like me doesn't need glasses to see that you're the disgrace of this tower. You'd be the last Kindred to be Prince of this place!"

He looked away, paced over to the couch, sat down, then rested his head in his hands, "What makes you say that?"

"I already told you…what…too busy ogling to pay attention?" She raised a brow, "It's all about the group dynamic and the respect the leadership carries. If a beloved Prince was replaced by someone everyone hated, the Camarilla in this state would collapse in on itself."

"How am I supposed to build rapport if those I'm supposed to respect are fools?"

"…and that's why I can't learn anything from you."

"It's coincidence…"

"No, it isn't. You're mine now. The moment you piss me off, you die." She smirked, "So I guess you could say your life belongs to two Kindred now."

"This isn't anything new." He mused, "I gave my life to you the second I adopted you."

"No you haven't, you've only done it as a pretense to boss me around." Her grin grew, "But I'm a rare Cappadocian. And you're just garbage. So I get to do whatever I want now."

"And what is it you want? You wish to kill me?" He sat back, "Then what?"

"Then I could be taught by Phaedra. She'll actually teach me."

He stared at the floor, shaking his head, "Where did this all come from…this argument?" But she wasn't there to answer, she slammed the door.

"Are we almost there?" Slade asked, most of them felt like they've been cramped in the taxi for a while.

"Nearly there, just another few minutes." The driver said.

"Remind me why I have to sit in the middle." Dragomir growled.

"Delilah's sitting up front because she knows the place…I like the window seat and so does Slade." Tess said.

"That doesn't…ugh…" Dragomir moaned, closing his eyes, "Never mind."

Tess sighed, "I think it's nice to go out on jobs again."

"Reminds me of old times…" Slade said.

Dragomir shifted between them. Tess winced, "Ow, you're pinching me."

"Then move your ass over just another inch."

"I can't."

He quirked himself over a bit, elbowing her in the chest, "Ow…"

"I hate this…"

"Next time we're putting you in the trunk…" She muttered.

"We're here." The driver stopped at a dilapidated old house, "Uh…are you sure this is the place?"

"Yeah, we're sure." Slade said, as the four of them got out. When there was the sound of uncivilized hissing and grunting, Slade got his swords out, "Damn it, I should've known that this place would be guarded…"

Dragomir stretched, his pants squeaking along with him, "Let's get this show on the road."

Tess drew her blade, "Where do we start?"

"Let's try this way." Delilah spoke for the first time, leading them forward.

Sure enough, a horde of Sabbat enemies came out, both ghoul and Cainite. Most sprang from the bushes, or through the broken front windows of the house. "Crap!" Slade dashed at them with Celerity, "Alright…we'll kill these losers, and drain who we can! We gotta save our strength for the Sabbat general who lives here! We gotta get in the house!"

Slade and Tess wasted no time cutting through people, while Delilah held her hands out and used Purge, essentially turning them into sitting ducks.

Dragomir chuckled, standing idly by with his hands in his pockets.

Slade panted as the three of them did away with the Sabbat enemies, "Alright…the front lawn is clear…is stands to reason that they'll be more of them inside the house itself…"

Delilah looked up at Dragomir, "Were you planning to help?"

"Yes, in fact, I was, thank you for asking."

She rolled her eyes, tipping her hat and entering the building.

They entered the household, standing in the entrance, "Jeez…the place is gross…Sabbat standard…I guess." Slade said, "Maybe we should split up…"

Delilah looked unsure about the idea, "I would be careful if we do."

Slade started to look around for a staircase, "I bet this guy'll be upstairs. Unless he ran away already…then this mission would've been pointless."

"Is your nose any good?" Tess looked up at Dragomir.

He started sniffing the air, "It all smells the same."

Once they found a staircase, they went up the stairs. "Damn it…how high up does this house go? It didn't look this tall from the outside…" Slade muttered, "I say when we get to the top, we split up. But…it'll be fine, we'll be within earshot of each other. House may be a couple stories up, but it's kinda cramped, honestly."

Delilah nodded, "Yes, I think that's a good idea."

When they reached the top, the hallway forked four ways, "Oh, this is perfect." Slade smiled.

"I wish you all good luck." Delilah said.

"I think we'll need it." Dragomir adjusted his glasses as he cackled and walked forward.

There was a sudden explosion from Slade's room. The explosion was so big, it caused the house to topple on its foundation, for the most part. Flames, smoke, and blood burst out of the room, as Slade screamed out in pain. It was more than one keg of Astrolite, that was for sure, and while the house was now falling apart, Slade seemed to have taken the brunt of it.

Dragomir scrambled closer to Slade, pulling him up to his knees, "Hey, hey, Slade!" He shouted, "Don't die yet…"

A/N: What's with the Sabbat and all these explosives? Talk about lazy…Thanks for reading!