A/N: Here's chapter forty-nine! Back to the Anarchs! I wonder what their next plan will be now that their numbers have shrunk even further…

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

"This is a pretty nice truck." Cissy hummed, sitting in the back next to Catalina, "I wonder if we can dig around the cushions and find any drugs."

Catalina's face was buried in her hands, "My humanity…my precious humanity…"

"Please." Cissy rolled her eyes, "It was all me, alright? I did the jacking, you guys just followed suit." She said, then she smirked, "Well, Skelter did the negotiation."

"Negotiation." Skelter scoffed, "Damn bitch was scared stiff, I just had to knock her out."

"Gee, I wonder why she was scared." Cissy muttered, looking at his leg.

"Probably because she hit a fucking clown."

"I'm not a clown!" Cissy spat.

"Sure."

"This is why you have a damn wolf leg…" Catalina muttered.

Skelter snarled, (a proper snarl, too) deciding to stay quiet about his ultimate plan with it.

Cissy sat back, "Gotta say, it's roomier without him. It's nice that we can all sit inside the vehicle instead of stuffing ourselves in the trunk like dead animals."

"There's a whole lotta things that are good without the kid, but leave it to you to idolize ass-room." Skelter muttered.

Catalina crossed her arms, "So does this mean we'll have to go further than Idaho? It must be…if Killian attracted their attention to us…but…they wouldn't come this far to get the four of us…would they?"

"I don't know. Aside from Skelter, Sirius was the only other one who knew the Jyhad climate well." Anastasia said, "But he was probably just leading us into a trap the whole time."

Cissy shuddered, "That jackass is after us too."

Skelter briefly pondered how they were going to get anywhere with this many people after them. Nines was never hunted after this much, was he?

But that was back when he was weaker. When both of them were weaker, so their foes were weaker. Nines and Skelter could go out as a team and wipe out a threat in a single night. Then Damsel tagged along and it made things even easier, but the threats always caught up. The Anarchs always had numbers, that was something Skelter never counted on.

And now without their numbers, what was left? He drove a little faster. "Only way we're gonna get them off of us is dilution."

Cissy looked out at a vast expanse of land before them, "Dilution?"

"We gotta find other Anarchs. We're down to four…what the fuck are four Anarchs gonna do?"

Cissy chewed on her thumbnail, "Maybe you have a point."

"Of course I have a point." He grumbled.

"We're too concentrated. Just this concentrated ball of attention." She sat up, "I think what Killian did was actually fucking brilliant."

"What?" Skelter narrowed his eyes.

"We need to split up." She said, "Sure, maybe we'll fall, but think about it. We all have the same movement in mind. If we all spread and find Anarchs of our own, then meet back together, we'll have much higher numbers, and we'll be spread thinner, so anyone hunting us will have more trouble finding us."

There was a pause where nothing but the engine roared.

"That's a terrible idea." Skelter's low voice said eventually.

"What? C'mon, why?"

"First of all, splitting us up is asking for trouble. You realize if someone goes out there to find us, they're gonna find Killian and kill him with no drawbacks? The rest of us won't be there to fight back. It ain't gonna be any different if we split."

"Yeah, and what would happen if that same person found all of us?" Cissy challenged, "You think we'd put up any sort of fight? Even the four of us are fucking useless. Not against them."

A short silence.

"There's more problems than that." Skelter said.

"Aright." Cissy kicked her feet up on the center console, no one to stop her, "Shoot, wolfy."

"We don't all got the same movement in mind. You're here to do whatever Catalina says, Catalina's here to kill Tremere, Anastasia's got a general clue about what's going on, but I'm the only one who knows what the fuck's what. I know what his dreams were, I knew him the best."

"Why don't you just tell us what he wanted then?" Cissy asked.

"It ain't…it ain't like that…" He sighed, "Besides, even if we did split up, what's the chance we'll be able to recruit anyone? Two gnarled Kindred from the middle a' nowhere recruiting well-off Anarchs who are already involved in someone else's movement? It was a little more feasible in a group but breakin' us down won't do us any good."

The next pause was uncomfortable.

"I think you're just afraid to be stuck with Anastasia."

Skelter rolled his eyes, "…fuckin' Christ…"

"C'mon, doggy, what's the matter?" She leaned in, "You got a whole harem of girls to yourself now, stubborn to let them go?"

"Don't make me pull this fucking car over."

"It's our only choice." Catalina said, "Not necessarily splitting up, but…latching ourselves onto another Anarch group. We don't…really have our own identity anymore…aside from you." She looked at Skelter.

"But where should we go?" Anastasia asked.

"I don't know…as far east as possible…Strauss's Camarilla wouldn't chase us that far…especially if we actually get diluted enough…"

"Pedal to the metal, dog-breath." Cissy locked her fingers behind her head.

All she received was another snarl, which made her snicker.

Then she asked, "Did you really have to kick him out?"

Skelter eyed a squirrel on the side of the road that was contemplating suicide. "You really gotta ask?"

"Nines must be churning in his grave. He was the one who had the boner for him in the first place."

"He doesn't belong here." Skelter said firmly, "And that's final."

Something about that made Cissy uncomfortable, and she stated it as such, "I don't like that." She sat up, "I'm not saying that because I like Killian, because I don't. I'm saying that because it makes it hard for me to trust you."

"Oh, really?" Skelter asked, "I kicked him out for fucking with our movement, and everyone else in between. He was the one not to be trusted. Not after the way he treats his allies. Nines welcoming him in no matter what was a problem. That was bad news. He was so concerned about second, third, millionth chances, when that motherfucker should have been thrown in the Sabbat the first time he lashed out." He tried to calm himself by taking a short but powerful breath, "He was desperate. And I'm not gonna be like that. You ain't good for the movement, you're out. I'm not fuckin' around."

"It's just a phase." Catalina said, "I'm sure he'll come crawling back at some point."

"He ain't welcome back." Skelter said firmly, "I told him from the beginning, as soon as Nines died, this was his last chance. Then he goes and gets high, pretending there's some woman in the woods, fucking hell, he was a waste a' space."

"So even if he comes back, he isn't welcome?" Cissy asked.

"No."

She seemed unsettled, "So if any of us were to have a mental breakdown, you'd kick us out and never forgive us?"

"It was more than a mental breakdown."

"Well, what happens when I fuck something up?" Cissy asked, tears in her eyes, "You know I will. I'll steal something even worse, I'll kill someone, I'll just, I'll do something. Then what, huh? You gonna kick me out too?"

His lack of a response was enough for her to sit back in her seat, cross her arms and look out the window, dabbing at her tears, "Fuck you, Skelter. You're the worst goddamn person I've ever met."

"You got a long way to go, then." He muttered, warily watching as a police car drove by.

"You're both being dramatic." Catalina said, "Clearly, what we were doing before wasn't working. So now things have to change. Anyone could've seen this coming, we lost so bad against the Tremere that things need to change."

"So let's split up." Cissy resolved, her voice firm again, "Me and Cat and Skelter and Anastasia."

Skelter sighed, still not on board.

"The only problem is, we don't have any money." Anastasia said, "Even the four of us together can hardly survive. Splitting up might make things worse."

"Wonder why we don't have money…" Skelter growled.

"Shut up." Cissy said, "It should be easy for us to get cash. It is for me. I already have four hundred bucks."

"F-Four hundred…" Catalina's eyes bulged out, "When did you get that? Where?" She started shaking the Ravnos.

Cissy rattled, "I found a few bucks…I mugged someone, and the rest came from the carjacking…!"

"Yes, this is great!" She kissed her on the lips, "We have money again…"

Cissy's eyes looked saddened, "You mean…I have to split it…?"

"I mean…especially if we split up…we can't just leave them with nothing."

"I still have that twenty from Cadmus." Anastasia said, "But…I doubt he'll be around to financially help us anytime soon. He hasn't been calling much recently…and…I don't know…even if he goes all the way to Idaho…he'll only get Killian…even then…Killian might move deeper into the forest, so he might not even find him."

"Cissy, it's four hundred, just split it four ways." Skelter said.

"Fine, but I want the extra twenty."

Skelter sighed through his nose, "Whatever."

Cissy reached in her bra and distributed the money, Skelter hesitant with taking it.

"Alright, so that's done." Catalina said, "But…should we actually split up?"

"I don't know…it is one of Cissy's ideas." Anastasia said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cissy pouted.

Skelter sighed, "Fine. Let's try it. One week. We meet back up afterwards and see if it's worth it."

"But where should we split up? Where should each pair go?" Catalina asked.

"Is there any sort of city nearby? Somewhere we can find other Anarchs?" Cissy asked.

"I guess…" Skelter looked over to the map on the dashboard, "We might have to camp out one more night before we reach one."

Cissy gave a little nod, "Alrighty then. We'll…split up for a week, and then maybe meet back at the motel?"

"Sure." Skelter said, "And if all of us survive…it'll be a goddamn miracle."

It couldn't be considered a lecture, not when he grinned and stuck his tongue between his teeth, his shoulders sloping and arms slinging around her in a playful embrace.

He tried to take the stinger off the bee when the nest still stirred with more.

He'd tip her chin and look her deep in the eye with those terrifying, frenzied bestial eyes of his that were no longer his. He'd ask her then and still get the same answer.

So why was it that he grew impatient with her wall against her past when his was stacked up just as high as hers? Damn him, he was so incredibly transparent but this? How had he been hiding this?

It brought about the same feelings as telling someone 'I told you so'. That bitterness, that frustration, yet the sense of overwhelming satisfaction from having something to stuff in his face. Her delicate fingers thrummed through the letters. There had to be dozens. Her mind clicked and told her one per week.

If he was going to hide something from her, then she was going to dig into it. Just as he had been with her.

Maybe it was vengeance for him disappearing on her so much. He always had such funny smells about him when he came back, and even funnier moods. She longed to seek where his mind travelled without her. Clearly it took him to dark and frightful places, but where?

Her thumb cracked the seal of the envelope and slid the little paper out from the bigger. It unfolded nicely, but whoever did fold it crinkled the corners just a hair.

Green eyes grazed over the sloppy and boyish cursive writing. A letter to him from someone who went by Fletcher. It was nothing more than an updating letter. The address was from New Hampshire. It was a tedium tale about a cat and a broken window.

Maybe this wasn't his wall against humanity. Maybe he was over it. If it was his wall, wouldn't he push against it a little more? Rather than leave them all thrown recklessly in a drawer? It was like his disposal.

Disposal.

No, if he was over it, he would have entirely disposed of them. From the mailbox to the trash.

Well, next time he gripped her waist and teased her tongue with his, digging beneath her flesh for answers about her past, she wouldn't reply with dismissal. She'd answer with one simple word.

Fletcher.

…

The cold air made the cat's fur fluff up, but in a way, it was cute. The food bowl was refilled, the spine was scratched and a chirp was earned from the feline.

Fletcher went back to the desk and grabbed for the photo album. One of the thick pages slit her finger and she gasped, sticking it between her lips. Her eyes were blue, her frame thin and her hair red. She was nothing like him. He had a villain's face and she had a pixie's, he had a muscular build and she had a lithe one.

He was always the one who was tormented. As she opened the pages, her blue eyes softened. It was evident why, at least. Their mother was nearly identical to Fletcher. Soft light hair, light, sweet eyes, tiny build. Petite. The littler version holding one hand, about hip height to the woman.

And then the gangly, dark haired, sinister-looking boy without glasses. Big hands, a square jaw, broad shoulders, even for a boy. He was taller than her when he was six and she was seven. The only thing they all had in common was the darker complexion.

Fletcher rested her jaw in her palm, leaning against the surface of the desk as she reached for her mug, sipping her tea. A page turned.

The disjointed family sat under a tree. Fletcher's lips twitched and she was tempted to smile. She was grasping the camera, her mouth open, her mother completely unaware the photo was being taken, while the little boy tried to cover himself, a blurred hand over half his face. She remembered he cried when she told him she took the photo and it actually developed.

A lot of girls growing up say they never want kids. Fletcher was one of those. She was the self-assured girl with the short hair and the piercings but a bright smile. She didn't ask questions, unlike her little brother, and was the voice of reason for the entire family.

When her mother was killed too, that's when child protective services ripped that away from her too.

She never saw him again. She fought and fought like hell, and never got an answer as to where he went. She was adopted pretty shortly for her pretty face and good grades, raised well under new parents who she generally got along with. The pages in the album showed them. But there were no more photos of her little brother.

After the death of her mother, she found it hard to even stand near men at all.

She was too little to remember it, but her mother was married. Engaged. In the excitement of it all, they ended up with Fletcher before the actual ceremony. She didn't remember her birth father. He disappeared, homicide, and her mother then had another child.

She flipped back to the only two photos she had of her brother. She could remember his face, of course. She knew him up until she turned twelve. When Dragomir's father came back for more.

It was Fletcher's fault, really. Her mother didn't have to die. She didn't have to fight. She could have let the man have what he wanted. But she was the one who told her mother to be strong one night. One night when her mother broke down and confided everything in her.

It was a night Dragomir had been dragged to a party, tried alcohol, and got absolutely hammered. When asked what happened, he simply told his mother he wanted to stop them. He never told her what they said to him, but Fang had long heard them call him a rape child. They called his mother a whore and his sister a slut. God only knew what else they had said to him.

Her small cottage never grew lonely. She had a cat and the wildlife around her. She was a writer. She took half a year of courses in college before she quit that too. A boy asked her on a date once and she felt herself grow sick. She never showed up again.

The house was cheap because it was small and she earned enough royalty fees. She realized how lucky she was to make a little niche for herself, but her chest still hurt.

She wasn't lonely but she wished he was here.

She promised to him that she'd live with him again. And he disappeared too.

The logical portion of her mind told her he was dead. It told her to move on. And the illogical portion wrote a letter every Tuesday. She found an ad for him about a year ago, a sign that he was alive somewhere. She found his number and called him every other night or so.

He was still in California, where his father lived. Her mother lived in New Hampshire, but traveled to California to honeymoon. After Dragomir's birth, they moved somewhere cheaper. She could hardly afford one child without a husband, let alone two.

Fletcher often dreamt of Dragomir's father showing up. She dreamt of breaking his neck and throwing him out for the bears to eat.

She dreamt of Dragomir showing up too. She dreamt of holding him again, just one more time, feeling his larger frame hold her like the gentle giant he always was. But, in reality, she should probably move away from it all, shouldn't she?

The cat jumped up on the desk and laid across the photo album. Fletcher rested her head on the cat's side. She wished he was there so he could forgive her.

"Hey." Phaedra's voice jolted Poe, rabid humans left and right, he thought he had been caught slinking to the shadows, "I'm here."

He gave a slight nod, silently and quickly traversing through the city to find the one man on his mind.

She trailed after him, "Do you have a plan?"

He dashed ahead, going after a portly man in a suit and a bowler's hat. Donatello blocked him with his cane.

"Eh? What's this? More humans?" He asked.

"Don't pretend you don't remember me." Poe said.

He blinked a few times, not understanding, then he grinned, "Oh…I remember…Celia's husband. Here for your revenge or something?" The answer he got was Poe slicing through him. He growled as a searing red scar opened up on him, setting himself on fire immediately.

Phaedra kept her axe on hand, not wanting to interfere right away. There were no humans to muck up the Masquerade, and for some reason, this excited her.

"Huh…looks like you found yourself a replacement, eh?" He looked from Poe to Phaedra. Poe narrowed his eyes and clashed with his blade, trying to knock the cane out of his hand. But because Donatello was on fire, he hesitated, "Listen, you little twerp!" He reached out and grabbed Poe's face, setting it on fire, Poe screamed, "Ya got a-hundred years before you can beat someone like me!" He lifted him up by the face, slamming him into the ground, with such force, that it splintered and broke the asphalt road on contact.

Phaedra didn't hesitate, her eyes flashing red as she ran forward to gouge her axe into Donatello's flesh. He chuckled as he blocked her, looking happier still when Poe wouldn't get up, "Don't you idiots get it? The Baali have mastered hellfire, there's nowhere for you to run now, challenging me is walking into a grave!"

She stepped back, her axe thirsting for blood. She waved her arms about and summoned a specter. She would have loved to speak to this man if hearing him talk didn't make her want to vomit.

He frowned and jumped back, "Little piece of shit, you think you're the only one who can summon things?" He held a hand out, and flaming demon came out of the group. "I can too! And mine are better!"

Poe dashed in again, panting. Phaedra could see how fast he was going, as well as the orange and green glows coming off of him. In other words, he was using all three Disciplines at once.

"Hmm…interesting mix of powers." Donatello said, "But I can hardly feel that Presence." He said, activating his own, "Mine makes kings bow down on their knees!"

Poe felt himself weaken as Donatello's massive Presence radiated throughout the area. He was almost skewered with the flaming cane, but he dashed out of the way at the last second.

Phaedra stood back and summoned a zombie horde, hoping maybe their numbers would tip the battle in their favor. Donatello looked at his demon, "Take care of the undead. I'll focus on these two." He said. He held his hands out, spraying fire everywhere. Even if he missed them, he ended up surrounding the nearby streets with fire.

Phaedra could understand why Poe hated fire so much. She ran in and suddenly dropped her axe low, aiming for Donatello's ankles. Donatello clashed with his cane, "Rotten brat." He growled, but while he was dealing with Phaedra, Poe slashed through him. He fell back. Phaedra laughed, rearing her axe back over her head like a lumberjack, whipping it down to slice into his belly.

Donatello rolled out of the way. Once he sprang up, he shot fire at Phaedra.

She gasped as she felt her entire shoulder catch. All thoughts dissolved from her mind and she was concerned with nothing more than survival, tearing her flaming scarf away and smacking the flames the best she could. Donatello snickered and blasted more fire at her, but Poe ran in and slashed at him, mucking up his aim.

She panted as the last flame was squashed, the smell of her burning flesh thick in the air. It didn't stop her from securing her grip on her axe and running at him again.

Donatello clashed back. He looked at his two opponents. Phaedra was easy to defend against, but he couldn't do anything when Poe was flying around like that. He backed away, out of luck, and defended one of Poe's errant blows.

It seemed Phaedra was picking up on this, and continued to be as annoying as possible. She dodged his attacks and kept acting as if she was going to go in for a hit, stopping to dodge last minute.

Donatello growled, focusing on Poe at this point. He stuck his cane in his mouth briefly, aiming one hand at Phaedra, and one at Poe, as he shot fire at them both.

Phaedra hardly hit the dirt in time, but something grabbed her from behind. Her eyes glimmered in horror as a demon grabbed her by the foot and yanked her back, her boot and foot igniting. Her teeth gritted as she dug her heel into the flame-comprised being without avail. She stumbled back and kicked her boot off, her foot now just as scarred as her shoulder. Part of her dress caught as well, but that she snuffed out with ease.

Another batch of zombies came out to prevent something like that from happening again.

"Gonna run out of blood if you keep that up." Donatello growled, running for her while she was still adjusting her position.

Poe dashed in the way, protecting her. But Donatello was fed up with all this and gave him a big fiery hug. Poe let out a scream of agony, "Hey, how's that back doing for ya, chump?" Donatello screamed in his ear.

Phaedra gasped, rearing her axe back into Donatello's back. Donatello flinched, but he kept burning Poe, "It's time I get vengeance for what you've done! You killed my entire Baali cell! And I've had to dress up as a dumb Tremere to bring back a following ever since!"

"Free him!" Phaedra's voice was deep and strained as she ordered her specter to grasp Poe's shoulders and pull him away. She meanwhile aimed her axe for the back of Donatello's knees.

"Heh, heh, heh! Watch your stupid lover die, useless woman!" He fell to his knees as he was slashed, still having an iron grip on Poe.

When her specter couldn't get Poe, it reared its scythe back to jam into Donatello's skull. Phaedra gasped as the spirit swung its blade down, screaming for it to stop. If Donatello moved just a hair, Poe would be murdered.

"Heh, heh, how stupid to you think I am?" He snapped, "I ain't gonna fall for such an obvious attack!" He said, "Hey…wait…I can't move!" He tried to flail, "I can't move! Someone invisible's holding onto me!"

Sirius's Obfuscate faded, "Hopefully he won't split you down the middle, eh pal?"

Donatello coughed up blood as the side of his face and chest was hacked open, dropping Poe (who was unconscious at this point). "Damn it…" Donatello stumbled back, blood seeping from his head, "Hey…I remember you…you were in the Last Round…and on Natalia's tower!"

"So were you." Sirius said, "Now I think I finally know what the hell you are."

Phaedra scrambled forward as fast as she could, cradling the burned Poe and backing away, "Sirius…"

Sirius faced Donatello, "Get out of here, Nagaraja. Before I change my mind."

Donatello laughed, "You think I'm gonna let those two stupid runts get away! You're crazy!"

Sirius took a deep breath, blowing out a sandstorm to snuff out most of the fire nearby, "Go!" She adjusted Poe, his sword and her axe, then ran off as quickly as she could.

A/N: That part gave me the warm-fuzzies…thanks for reading!