Empty Room With A Song

by death-in-the-orchard

Alexander Anderson, the high school senior, quarterback, rich kid; clashes with the withdrawn, troubled teen who goes by the name Hell Dog or Alucard on the streets and by Vlad at school...here is their struggle to survive. Note: This is not yaoi.

9. Chapter 8

Dates are mixed. It is still December (in the story) at the moment, but current (January) news reports were used.

Chapter 2: I found a typo that I will eventually fix. Vlad does not have health insurance. I accidentally put that he does not have life insurance. Walter has health insurance but Vlad, who pays the hospital bills (and some other bills that deal with his uncle) with the money in his uncle's bank account, does not have health insurance.

Sorry about that.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

The hallway beyond the partially opened door was dimly lit by the soft lightened darkness of an approaching dawn. It was the pale sort of light that casts all that it falls upon under a colored shade much like its own. Since this light was a mixture of grey and blue, the white paint on the walls and the threads of the carpet were bluish and grey. The quiet that is only possible within a closed room, empty and ghost-like in the early morning hours, threw its own shadows to mingle with the dawn's light. Vlad observed the effects of these unsubstantial and generally unacknowledged powers of the inanimate, before dispelling their influence for an abrupt moment by widening his door and leaving the room, his bare feet brushing the carpet as he walked down the hall to reach the white railed stairs. He descended them slowly, allowing his hand to run over the cool surface of the rail while his ears listened to the unique quiet. Somehow he could feel that it was not undisturbed. Following this sense, his feet met the much colder touch of the tiles at the bottom of the stairs and he wandered through the house. His presence fitted the early morning time, so it kept him quiet, allowing him to move through it without displacing any of the shadows, the dim light, or the silence.

Vlad entered a part of the house he had never visited before, coming across a room that was not walled off from the rest of the house, yet was distinctly separate from it. Three tiled steps lowered the boy onto the carpet and he stopped there, examining the room. It was an office, homey though, with a couch a few paces from the three stairs. Beyond the couch were two windowed doors that revealed a patio Vlad had never known had existed. In front of the doors was a stationary bicycle, sitting beside the couch, watching the blank television screen that was mounted on the wall over an unused fireplace, surrounded by framed photographs of the Anderson siblings. A few protruding shelves were weighted by various sports trophies and ribbons, some certificates were framed on the wall along with the photographs, praising more of the younger Andersons' accomplishments. Across the room, towards the corner by the two windowed doors, an 'L' shaped desk snuggly fit the shape of the two adjoining walls, creating an isolated space for the woman who had her back to the rest of the office, the light of a computer monitor visible around the outline of her head. Neat stacks of papers and files, along with a plastic storage cabinet, occupied most of the longest stretch of wood that constructed the shape of the 'L' desk, but they were being ignored at the moment as the woman read something on her computer screen. The clicking of the computer mouse disturbed the morning quiet, forcing it to recede, following the dawn's light which had fled when Integra had turned on the lights in her home office.

Vlad took his gaze from the blonde hair, finding the sliding glass door, covered by a black screen, behind her chair. He stared through the glass for a while, hit with disbelief.

The teen would have preferred to tell the woman 'Good morning', or at least 'Hi' to reveal his presence, but the Andersons' back yard, if it was really their backyard, Vlad couldn't tell where he was in the house, distracted him and absorbed all of his attention. So Integra jumped in her seat when Vlad cursed to himself, glaring at her sliding glass door.

"You have your own pool too?"

Eyes on the pale teen, solidifying the fact that he was actually standing there, Integra did not respond to the question that was more of a statement of the obvious. She could only see the edge of the pool when she turned her chair. It was a familiar and uninteresting sight, while Vlad was not, so she looked at him instead, beginning to frown. But there was not enough motivation for the expression, and it fell away as her mouth moved to speak. "You're up early, Vladimir." The boy's attention shifted to her now and she could visibly see his awkwardness, being in such an alien setting. It was as if either he or the office were unable to accept one another. He stood out, unable to blend and become another occupant in the room. He was outside its touch. Seeing this, the woman blinked and tried to rub the vision from her eyes. Then she glanced at the time on her computer and her mouth twitched, caught between amusement, curiosity, and disapproval. "Do you even know what time it is?" She asked the boy whose eyes wandered about aimlessly before he could shake his head. A sigh floated up to a high window and a hand pulled on the knobbed string to lift the blinds. "It's still five." And the sky is still a bluish black…

When the boy didn't show any surprise, Integra watched him, at this distance, able to take in his full form while only meaning to look at his face. Anderson's clothes were baggy on the teen, right on down to the three inches of length that made the legs on the pants too long. They spilled onto the floor, hiding most of the pale feet. Vlad wasn't saying anything, and he didn't seem like he was going to say anything either, but the boy did not show any intention of leaving the office to return to the unlit house. He wasn't looking at her. He was more comfortable looking at her furniture or the trophies on the shelves. Vlad left the three steps that had brought him into the office and moved closer to the awards, to stand in front of them.

His face was blank, both aware and unaware of the woman behind him, sitting in her desk chair. Baseball, football, soccer, lacrosse, hockey, and swimming; red scrutinized them all. Cold, without jealousy, Vlad was affected by awe and the cooler feeling of his own empty 'shelf'. His life felt wasted, all the time he had spent on Earth had amounted to nothing. He could play the piano, but he had not accomplished anything through that single, developed skill. Science fair, middle school and high school accomplishments…Anderson was well-rounded, while Vlad was just plain flat. He moved to Seras' shelves and read through her smaller collection of trophies. Water polo, gymnastics, cheer, and volleyball, then there were certificates, plaques, and ribbons for swimming, essay contests, and overall academic recognition, along with her high school diploma and her acceptance letter into college, framed beside the manila envelope it had come in. Vlad's eyes stayed with the letter, taking note of the font and its layout. He did not read it. He did not feel inclined to, though he analyzed the letter. This would be the only acceptance letter he would ever see, this was the closest he would ever be to actually touching one, he thought in his mind, so he made sure to copy its form so he would not forget what one of these looked like, what an accomplished, well-rounded life looked like…what a good life was. That was it, the feeling of the office with its television and furniture and other things…it was nice, warm, and pleasant.

"Do you always wake up this early?"

Thus reminded of the woman's presence, Vlad nodded to her over his shoulder and returned his gaze to the letter and the trophies. "Yeah."

"Why?" Seras usually sleeps until six thirty or seven and Anderson can sleep until nine (at night) if no one remembers to wake him up, so Vlad's apparent attentiveness during this early hour was strange to the woman.

Vlad took his time responding, going over the different pictures on the wall. "I get bored. Sleeping's boring…you do nothing but lay there. If I'm not tired, I don't like forcing myself to lay there and do nothing."

Boring? Amused, Integra smiled, sliding her hand over to her abandoned computer mouse and clicking it as she swiveled in her chair to see the screen. She let the boy do as he wished in the room, be that staring at the shelves and pictures, sitting on the couch and watching the blank television, or sitting and experimenting with the stationary bike, the little noises all of this activity produced did not bother her as she worked. Without warning, the pale teenager appeared, leaning over the side of her desk to look at the screen as well. She stiffened, considered what she was working on, and then focused on Vlad again.

"What are you doing?" Red was highlighted by the light from the monitor as Vlad continued to strain his neck to get a clear view.

"Reports, paper work you don't have the authorization to read, Vladimir." A glance at the time told the woman that it was not yet six o'clock. Begrudging the boy slightly, she changed the window on the screen and began to look up the morning's news reports instead. Vlad watched, enamored by the routine.

"Why are you watching the news on your computer? You have a big-ass T.V. over there…" Integra frowned at his language, and Vlad paused to chew over what he was going to say next, to make sure that it didn't include curse words. "…and a…very comfortable couch. Why use MSN…?"

"Because I prefer it." Integra cut in, watching the bar that told her the video was loading. "I can choose specifically what news story I want to hear and I won't be bothered by more than one fifteen second commercial at a time."

Vlad blinked at the monitor as a commercial commanded the screen for a moment before fading away to reveal the news report. "Can I watch?"

Integra couldn't come up with a reason why she would want to say no, so she nodded at her computer, giving the boy a careless, 'Sure, if you want to Vladimir. But don't disturb me if you get bored'.

Vlad smirked at her words, finding humor in her resolute expression of concentration. He watched the internet video, his arms resting on the desk as he leaned on it. NBC News…Egypt in Revolt…

"Focused on looting…people are afraid….basic collapse of law and order….the army has been called in, but the soldiers have not been firing on protestors…government is allowing a degree of chaos to punish them…thousands of inmates were allowed to escape onto the streets…all allowed to happen to show an alternative to a strict state…if you protest, the alternative is chaos…"

Egyptian-Americans…another video replaced the last.

"Calls for Egypt political reform echoed a world away…information isolation left a terrible hole…what about my father, what about my family, what about my sister…boil over…especially the poor people that make up the majority, supply the animal instinct…"

Integra had forgotten the boy as she clicked on a new video, also related the Egypt and the Middle East.

"…we do not want to be on the wrong side of history…Egypt related Tweets…21st century revolution…didn't have anything until Tweeter and Facebook came along…impossible to suppress the views of their people now…military is critically important in Egypt now, you can see them in the streets taking order but embracing the demonstrations…they will oversee a democratic revolution…"

A Boeing commercial came up, so Vlad took this chance to speak. "Is it like an American Revolution, or the Civil War, but…you know…in Egypt? And it's not about the colonies or the representation or slavery…it's about something else? Just government stuff? Do they not like their president?"

The next video was already beginning, so Integra paused it so she could sigh and look at the boy, barely impressed by his broken knowledge, but still able to appreciate his thoughtfulness. "You're on the right track. There's no fighting, as of yet, only peaceful protests against the thirty year reign of their president, Mubarak. Mubarak is a democratically elected president, which, on the surface, seems innocent enough, but when one considers that their government runs as a one party system, this presidency takes on the form of a dictatorship… The citizens are also upset over other issues such as Egypt's inverted unemployment. In the US those who go to college and earn a degree tend to be employed while an individual who only has a middle school or high school education is more likely to be unemployed. People with a higher education only make up one and a half percent of the population that is currently unemployed in the US. But in Egypt, this is not the case. It's the opposite. Educated people find themselves in a position where they can't get jobs because there is simply no industry for them. Many of the college graduates leave the country in search of employment…but they would prefer to be able to find work in Egypt instead... If you watch and pay attention, you'll understand, Vladimir."

"I was paying attention." He mumbled back as her mouse clicked. "I didn't know that they were having a Revolution…or whatever…over there."

"Shh."

Dictatorship, Egypt, Arab world, vacation for one hundred years, has to play rapid catch-up, Mubarak…thirty years…okay, for sure that's their president. Vlad's brain began to fuzz as he continued to concentrate, trying to understand the familiar English language. He would hear the words but then they would slip away and he would try in vain to retrieve them while he struggled not to let the oncoming information escape him as well. But he did not have enough background to understand the significance of what was going on. How did this affect him? He had never heard of this problem before, hence, it was not important…was it? Muslim Brotherhood…it sounded like a gang to him…did they want two gangs to cooperate with one another to help rebuild their government? No. Then WHAT WERE THEY TALKING ABOUT? His brow furrowed as he helplessly frowned at the screen. The people in the nice suites and ties and their fancy tables and their book shelves and giant T.V. screens, made him feel stupid. Well, this was the government's problem. It was up to the elected politicians to deal with it. Even if he knew what was going on, he was in no position to do anything about it. Understanding anything about this, would only quench his curiosity and give him something to talk about with the Chief. But...he didn't get what was so important. Peace Treaty…like the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, and the Treaty of Paris…peace, land, end of war…? He saw tanks but the protestors that, he thought, the tanks were supposed to be enemies with, were cheering the tanks on...and being friendly with the soldiers. Oh…Terror Threat to the United States…he knew about 9/11, and the Taliban, but what did this have to do with them? Was this discrimination against the people in the area? No. It didn't seem like it. A 21st century Revolution….moving quickly…that connected with Facebook and Twitter. Now they were looking at a video about the president of the United States… Vlad gave up, and set to watching and listening to the arguing news people. He couldn't pick up the purpose of their discussions, but that didn't matter. It was nice just listening to the news and watching the screen with Integra. She seemed to understand what was being said. That was good enough.

As they continued to watch video after video, relating to different topics, Seras appeared by the three descending steps, her hand holding the edge of the wall so she could hang over the steps, leaning forward without the fear of falling.

"Hi Mom. Hi Vlad, you're up early." Integra paused the internet video and gave her attention to the girl so she could tell her 'Good Morning'. Her daughter smiled, anticipating their reaction to what she was going to say. "I'm going to make some pancakes. How many do you guys want?"

Pancakes? It's not Christmas, is it? Had he lost track of the days…? Vlad stared at Seras while Integra gave the question some thought.

"I'll have two…if they're the medium sized ones, Seras. Can you put them on a plate and leave them at my spot on the table? I'll be there when I'm finished." She returned to her news, and then waited for Vlad to respond to the question so she could select play. But Vlad wasn't saying anything. He was just watching.

Seras noticed, blinking expectantly. "How about you, Vlad? How many do you want?"

Oh. "Two…I guess." Vlad flinched when the news blared from the computer speakers and Seras left. The teen searched for the time on the computer. It was passed six. Okay…now what? He didn't feel like watching the news reporter people anymore…could he leave? Or would the Chief be mad? But…why would she be mad? She probably wants him to go…

"You can go or stay if you want, Vladimir, but let Anderson sleep for a while longer…at least until breakfast is ready."

She did want him to leave. "Okay…" Vlad watched the back of the woman's head, and then the glass door where the pool was. He wanted to go outside, but he felt like he shouldn't, so he wandered back to the steps and left the office. Might as well see how Seras was going to make them all pancakes... He hadn't watched someone make pancakes…he hadn't had someone make him pancakes since he was ten, or even nine years old. He recalled the mix, the eggs and measuring cups, water, milk, and the frying pan… The teen followed the sound of opening and closing cabinets and the clang of a pan hitting the stove top, so he soon found himself standing by the counter with the hanging lights, where Anderson had been studying one night. He watched as Seras measured out the ingredients and mixed them in a large metal bowl. A few minutes sneaked by before she gasped, discovering the spy when she closed the refrigerator doors. Recovering, Seras laid the milk carton on the counter and unscrewed the pink cap. She smiled at the mixing bowl when she poured some of the white liquid into it.

"I make awesome pancakes."

I'm glad you're proud of that…Vlad's mouth twitched, unable to decide if this girl annoyed him or not. As he watched, Seras moved the bowl to a different counter so he could see what she was doing. Okay, mixing…now checking on the pan…somehow it was kinda boring. Not at all like how his mom used to make pancakes. With her, it had been fun and exciting. He felt no excitement when he watched Seras…it was only slightly interesting. He moved around to a stool and sat down as Seras poured out a half cup of batter onto a pan…but it wasn't really a pan. It was big and flat…what was it called? A grill? No. A…skillet? Maybe. That sounded okay. The big black rectangle thing was a skillet. Whatever, he wasn't a cook…he was a guy, it didn't matter if he knew the name or not.

"Do you want blueberries in your pancakes, Vlad?" Seras asked the boy as she held a transparent box of berries in her hand. She had made two pancakes at the same time…Vlad assumed that they were for the Chief.

"Okay." The girl whipped around and cheerily poured some more batter onto the skillet and then began to stick berries into the pancakes. That was a weird way to do it, Vlad frowned, but then felt bad when the girl hummed and chatted to herself….or maybe she was talking to him, he couldn't really tell. Seras was being nice, and here he was getting annoyed. He sighed and closed his eyes, opening them to view the marble counter top beneath his nose.

"Do you play any sports Vlad?"

A twinge of pain stabbed into the boy, but he ignored it, keeping his eyes on the counter after glancing at the girl. "No."

"Then what do you like to do?"

"I don't know…" He muttered back, but Seras was not to be deterred.

"Well," She smiled at the pancakes, exaggerating the word. "…I like to swim and I used to really like gymnastics, but ever since…" She stopped, blushing slightly as she caught herself. The girl looked at her chest and chewed her lip, flipping over a pancake to distract herself. Yeah…those had made the floor routine a challenge. She cleared her throat to continue. "Since I got to the high school level, I stopped. I was…too tall." She pressed the spatula on a pancake. "How about you? Do you like swimming, or football…soccer or something?"

Vlad didn't say anything so she looked back at him while she waited for the pancakes to cook. "Vlad?" She began to frown, but she recalled the night before and her eyes flew open with another gasp she turned into a beaming smile, startling Vlad who stared at her. "Oh yeah! You like to play the piano, I forgot, sorry. How long have you been playing? Do you still take lessons? Because a lot of people stop taking lessons when they're your age…"

His mother had started teaching him how to play when he was three and a half…and his lessons had stopped when she died…so that was seven…no, six and a half years? "I took lessons for a little over six years. I started when I was about three and stopped when I was ten."

Seras frowned, unable to make sense of why he had stopped if he liked playing so much. "Why did you stop?"

"Just did…no reason." Red was directed to the counter.

"But if you liked it, actually liked it, then you should have continued, Vlad. Why would you stop…? You can't just be like, oh I'm good enough, and then stop…"

"I stopped because I moved in with my uncle and he didn't have a piano and I didn't have the money to pay for lessons." Vlad cut in to stop the girl before she succeeded in making him mad. It wasn't her fault…she just didn't know.

"Oh." Seras was stiff as she tried to take the pancakes off of the heat and transfer them over to a plate where she planned on stacking them all so they wouldn't get cold as quickly. "I'm sorry." I forgot he was poor…Seras' lips quivered as she was overcome with guilt. "I'm really sorry, Vlad. I didn't mean it…I take it back. It's not your fault."

"I got it…I got it, Female Anderson. Just calm down. You're gonna spill the pancake glop everywhere." Seras poured the measuring cup of batter onto the skillet and refilled it again while Vlad watched. He didn't realize he was carrying on the conversation. "How long have you been playing the piano?"

"Oh, um…" Seras lifted the spatula as one of her fingers flicked her cheek, trying to think past her guilt. "My mom got me started when I was five and I stopped taking lessons when I graduated from high school."

"Do you like it?"

"Yup." The girl chirped brightly and checked to see if the pancakes were browning properly. She stuffed another blueberry into one.

"You ever thought of becoming a pianist? A concert pianist?"

Now Seras was smiling at the compliment she found in Vlad's words, and in his social mood. "No, but thank you. I don't think I'm good enough to become a professional pianist." A giggle slipped passed her lips and then she sighed, flipping a pancake while Vlad watched the side of her face, and then the circled pancakes.

"What do you plan on being then, after college?"

"I'm not completely sure…but I might just enroll in the police academy and follow my Mom's footsteps." Seras spun on her heals suddenly, holding the dangerous spatula like a gun, aimed at Vlad. A smug smile showed her white teeth when Vlad gave her a peculiar look. "So you better watch out, Vlad, because one of these days I might arrest you." She laughed after the joke, moving the spatula harmlessly through the air and beaming when she received a crooked smirk from the teen. It was fun making Vlad smile, she decided, and focused on her pancakes for a while, putting on the next batch. Minutes blinked by on the microwave's mini black screen, noted by Seras who had finished off the batter and was beginning to clean up some of the mess she had made. "Hey Vlad, can you go wake up my lazy brother and tell him to set the table? Tell him he also has to remember to get the drinks out too."

"Alright." Vlad slipped off of his stool, spinning the revolving seat as he left the kitchen, and then stretched his arms over his head, trying to crack his back as he walked over to the carpeted staircase. Releasing his arms with a deep breath, he jogged up the steps and pulled on the end of the rail to help propel himself down the hall towards the jock's room. After a rapid knock hit the door, Vlad casually waltzed in and went to Anderson's bed, smirking at the sleeping lump. A lonely pillow was very handy in this situation as it successfully managed to wake up the blonde teen when Vlad smacked the deflating object onto his sideways face. Anderson gasped, eyes snapping open as he jumped out of his sleep, turning over and sitting stupidly with his mouth open. He groaned and threw himself onto his warmer pillow, throwing aside the colder one that had come to cover it, and he mumbled into the soft fabric.

"Go away, runt. I'm sleeping…."

Vlad stared at the boy and found an uncovered foot. He grabbed it and began to tug and pull the teen out of bed, causing Anderson to yell in surprise and come close to falling off his mattress. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" He demanded angrily, grabbing at his sheets to keep himself where he was.

"Pancakes." Vlad dropped Anderson's foot, and a confused face looked back at him. The pale boy smirked. "Your sister made pancakes and you have to set the table and remember to get the drinks. The longer you wait, the colder they'll be…and they have little blueberries in them too."

"Oh…" Anderson blinked, his face split by a yawn a second latter. He got up and shook his head a bit to dislodge his remaining fatigue. "Okay…" Green shot a glare at Vlad who was quietly laughing at the blonde. "Don't do that again…wake me up like a normal person, alright?" He sighed when his growl was dissipated by the chuckles coming from the departing figure. He got up and followed Vlad down the stairs, grumbling when he had to set the table, though Vlad helped him out with the plates and knives. Because Anderson had to get the maple syrup, he forgot about the drinks. At least…that was his excuse when Seras reprimanded him mockingly and pointed towards the kitchen.

"I even got Vlad to remind you, Andy-Alex, but you still forgot? Maybe we should write it down on your plate every meal, and then you'd remember, most of the time."

"Oh, be quiet." The teen muttered back, stifling a yawn. Integra was not yet seated at the table, so Vlad and Seras were alone again, for the moment. But Anderson soon reappeared and he passed around the orange juice, cranberry juice, and finally the milk after he finished pouring himself a glass. He eyed Vlad's cranberry juice as he gulped down some of the milk. "You should really drink the milk instead…it's better for you."

Vlad chewed on a piece of pancake, not having bothered to put butter or syrup on it. He was unscrewing the cap for the syrup as he spoke. "I don't like milk."

"You should drink it anyway."

"But I don't like it."

"But you should still drink it anyway."

"Eat your pancakes and leave me the hell alone, nosey fat ass."

"You're so rude…" Anderson sniped back, but then stuffed some of the soft, sugary breakfast cake into his mouth. Vlad looked down at his pancakes and paused. He stared at them for a while.

"There are faces…on my pancakes."

Seras smiled at the teen's blank expression. Anderson noticed as well.

"They always have faces, Vlad. My sister makes pancakes out of people."

"Alex!" Seras frowned in disgust while Vlad chuckled and took a bite that contained an 'eyeball'. He swallowed.

"Now we're all cannibals."

Anderson grinned and ate another bite while Seras growled at her plate, frowning at the smiley faces.

"You guys are horrible. Ruining my pancakes with your…twisted little minds. And shut up, Andy-Alex. Next time I'm not making either of you pancakes."

Next time? That stuck in Vlad's mind, blocking out the siblings' voices as they commenced their familiar banter. The teen's eyes were picking out the details in his syrup coated pancakes while the sweet taste was remembered by his tongue, as well as the fluffy texture… "They're good pancakes."

The sudden statement broke through the others' argument, quieting the table as footsteps drew nearer. Vlad was eating his food with Anderson and Seras watching, when Integra claimed her place at the table. Her eyes shifted among her blonde headed children and then the black sheep Vlad stood out as, when put in the company of the blondes. They began eating, naturally, never noticing her attention. The woman began to eat as well.

She did not look at anyone except her faceless pancakes as she carved into their flat features and readied to take a bite. "I expect you both to clean the house today…" There were groans and grumbles that rained down on the ruined happy faces, but the sullen children continued to eat and did not put their complaints into words. Integra received some sadistic pleasure from their misery, and it showed itself as a small smile on her lips. As she chewed, blue drifted towards Vlad who was concentrating on his pancakes. She returned her eyes to her food. "It would be helpful if you'd clean as well, Vladimir. And since Alexander and Seras are each paid for their 'labor', you would also receive an…allowance that would make all of your trouble worthwhile."

The clinking of active knives and forks ended as all eyes were focused on the woman that steadily returned Vlad's stare. Anderson might not have put his glasses on this morning, but, still, his mother's intentions were as clear as day to him. Vlad had pride. Pride that forced him to feel indebted to their family, owing them for the food and for letting him sleep in their home, and it was a pride that prevented Vlad from accepting donations. If he worked and was paid for his 'labor', while the Anderson children were also getting paid to work as well…then the money was not a donation. It was not pity…on the surface. The proposition could be interpreted three different ways: a) Integra was being entirely serious in her suggestion, and she was doing this because she needed another hand to get the job done b) It was an extension of familiarity, of welcome or acceptance into their family c) It was a poorly concealed attempt at helping Vlad make some money. Anderson knew that they didn't need help, though he wouldn't mind having Vlad contribute since it would allow them to finish faster and Anderson had better things to do with his vacation time. The teen wasn't convinced, after last night, that his mother was ready to take Vlad under her wing…completely. Vlad was a dangerous component that she was not entirely willing to add to her family quite yet.

In Anderson's mind, as well as in Seras', two people who knew this woman better than most, believed this request was based off of pity, more than anything else.

Vlad considered the woman's words as his eyes slowly descended to his plate. He would help out. He had no problem with that, but should he accept this 'allowance' Integra wanted to give him? As long as it was the same as what the other two got, he saw no problem in taking the money. But… "I'll help out if you want me too." Integra smiled and ate her breakfast quietly as she explained to her children that she would be going into work for most of the day, and then began to list off what needed to be cleaned, vacuumed, and dusted before she came home.

"Especially you, Alexander, if you don't finish you aren't going anywhere today, no matter what plans you have with so-and-so. And, this goes for both of you, cell phones must be turned off and put in the kitchen cupboard until the house is clean. If you need to call me, make sure you use the house phone. I will be checking your phones just to make sure."

Vlad was the only one who didn't have a problem with any of this. He didn't have a cell phone to miss anyway. So while the pancakes and syrup dulled in the mouths of the other teens, Vlad was able to thoroughly enjoy his pancakes.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

They were splitting up the work, gathered in the kitchen and debating the serious matters of fairness, sexism, and issues of morality. It seemed morally wrong to make Vlad clean any of the bathrooms, as he would then be assigned to clean something that he would probably not want to clean in his own home. Anderson and Seras would clean their own rooms, so it was fitting that Vlad would clean the upstairs guest room. Seras would clean the office while Anderson cleaned their parents' bedroom and the larger bathroom the siblings often shared. Vlad would be in charge of the downstairs guest room and dining room, as well as the sitting room where the piano was. Now the two blondes were fighting over who would clean the small upstairs bathroom next to 'Vlad's' guest room, who would clean the Master bedroom's bathroom, and who would clean the kitchen and the living room. Anderson wanted Seras to clean the bigger bathroom and the kitchen. Seras claimed that he was being sexist, and that having to clean the kitchen and the largest bathroom in the house was unfair. Anderson was convinced that it wasn't since he had often been traumatized during the holiday 'cleaning day' (day before Christmas Eve) when he had been forced to take out the trash in the siblings' shared bathroom and had come across feminine products he would rather not have seen. Seras called him a baby while Vlad tried to close his eyes and will away the horrible mental images of what Anderson had gone through. As he had his eyes closed he remembered the pool and asked who was going to clean that. Anderson muttered darkly. "I always do that. Now that's being sexist, but am I complaining? I clean the pool. You clean the kitchen."

"Why do I have to clean the kitchen? You do it!" Seras snapped, slamming her palm on the counter. The two glared at each other, sparks cracking through the air.

"No. It's your job. It's not like I'm telling you to make me a sandwich." Anderson scowled at the girl and she scowled back at him.

"I'll clean the kitchen." Since I obviously don't have any problems with my masculinity, while the lady-bug fag over there does… Vlad was becoming impatient with the drawn out squabble as he leaned dully against the granite countertop, watching the two.

The storm dissipated and an awkward calm settled over the kitchen as the siblings looked away from one another, glancing at Vlad and mumbling, 'That's not fair for you'. But the case was closed. The rooms were, for the most part, split between the three, and Seras went to a cabinet and pulled out some old rags while Anderson went to the doors beneath the sink and took out the Windex and other cleaning chemicals that they would be using. The last thing to be done in each room, Vlad was informed, was the vacuuming, since the dusting and everything else would make the floor dirty. Seras had departed to start on the Master bathroom, leaving Anderson and Vlad behind. The two were ascending the stairs as Anderson attempted to explain how Vlad was supposed to clean, what he was supposed to clean, and in what order.

"I know how to clean, Anderson. My uncle's a clean-freak, so I was put to work cleaning the house when I was younger, too." The teen smirked, lifting up a bottle of Windex, handling it like a gun. "I know how to switch it from 'OFF' to 'SPRAY'."

"Oh…yeah." Anderson stopped before the door to the bathroom, watching as Vlad walked towards the room he had slept in. Through the door, Anderson could see the blinds lift and he heard the Windex bottle spray its bluish contents onto the window that was skillfully cleaned away by a ratty cloth and a pale hand. When he thought about it, it made sense that Vlad would be good at cleaning, in an unpleasant kind of way. The boy had probably cleaned countless windows to earn a bit of money… Anderson watched as an arm came into view, observing the practiced motion. No. Anderson shook his head and turned to open the door to the bathroom, setting down everything he had carried upstairs, as a frowning face was reflected in the mirror that stretched across the wall. Vlad wouldn't be a janitor or something like that when he grew up…even if he didn't go to college. Anderson could only see Vlad as either being the student he currently was, or as a pianist playing on a stage with an orchestra… As seconds of this 'movie' carried on, the scene degraded to a classy restaurant with Vlad wearing a suite and sitting at a piano, and then Vlad was not wearing a suite and he was playing for a less expensive looking-restaurant...and then Vlad was playing the piano, tutoring a kid…and then Vlad was playing an old looking piano by himself, and then Vlad wasn't doing playing…and there was no piano. He saw Vlad standing before a window, wiping up the Windex he had just sprayed on the glass. Anderson chose to ignore this picture as he dumped powder into the sink and left it there to sit and do its job while he went to the bathtub with a bottle and a sponge.

Vlad was going to do something significant with his life, Anderson convinced himself. He was going to do something great. There was nothing stopping him.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Vlad was berating himself for being distracted as he cleaned the window for a second time, having had to do so after remembering to dust the blinds. Now he was done and was moving on to swipe away the grey dust that was collected in the corners of the windowsill. This was fine. This was easy work that allowed one to choose to either focus their thoughts on their hands or on something else. It didn't require much concentration, but it was just enough movement and attention to detail that it was possible to whiten the mind and think of nothing while one worked. Vlad covered a bedpost in Pledge mist, enjoying the citrus scent as his rag gave the wood a pleasant sheen.

This wasn't a strange custom, cleaning for the Christmas holidays. His uncle had showed him how to carefully empty the shelves and then dust off the grime that had gathered during three weeks of relative neglect. The only difference about holiday cleaning, were the standards that had to be met in order for something to be deemed acceptable by the man's sharp blue eyes.

A bare finger was purposefully dragged across the back of a shelf, skimming the wall as it journeyed over the wood. Anticipating red eyes gazed at the gloved hand as the young Vlad held his breath and stopped his heart by pressing the cloth he had used for dusting, to his chest. The finger broke away from the shelf and was turned over for inspection. A streak of grey marked the side of the man's finger tip, pulling Walter's lips into a hard scowl that, when it was thrown to the boy, forced a hurried apology from the child.

"I'm so sorry Uncle! I'll do it again! Please let me do it again! I'll do all of them again, just to make sure!"

"Hmph." Walter's fingers snapped faintly as they dusted off the dirt. He said nothing as he left the shelves, moving towards the front door while Vlad dashed forward to find any other spots he had missed. "Don't be so lazy and careless, next time, boy." The voice from the door froze Vlad's joints, leaving him paralyzed with his arm stretched out over his head, reaching for a corner of a higher shelf. Walter had the door open and the crisp winter air drifted towards the boy, and then passed him by as it saw that it could do nothing more to chill the child. The blue eyes were colder than this seasonal breeze, and their absence left a thawing Spring in their wake, melting Vlad's joints so that he could command them once more.

Those were nice memories, Vlad smiled as he worked on the headboard. It had always made him happy when his uncle said he did something well, or just nodded, acknowledging his satisfactory results. Vlad hadn't needed an 'allowance' or any form of reward. His uncle's word was law, and positive recognition from him was worth more than the Buddha's weight in gold. Warm memories brightened the black haired teen's face as he finished cleaning the guest room, aside from vacuuming which he planned to do later, and kept the corner's of his mouth tilted upwards as he walked down the stairs, noticing that Anderson was still hard at work in the bathroom while he was in the hall. His next destination was the dining room, since it was relatively simple to clean, and he knew where it was. The teen was stacking up the placemats as he moved about, clearing the table.

Finished with the shelves, little Vlad positioned all of the trinkets back into their normal arrangement after dusting each one of them off. He turned around with a sigh and began the task of removing the placemats and anything else that was on his uncle's table. Vlad had never seen his uncle use the table to eat anything, but he had found his uncle reading a book under the lights that hung over the table, sitting in one of his many mismatched chairs.

The chairs around the Andersons' table, Vlad noticed as his hand polished the wood with the rag Seras had given him, were all uniform in design and color.

Vlad had been in the middle of dusting the mismatched chairs that belonged to his uncle when the man came home. The man's eyes searched for the child, and found it kneeling beside a chair, watching him anxiously. Walter's finger tested each of the shelves while the red eyes followed him. No dust was discovered. Once this was done, Walter gave a nod to the boy and moved to enter the kitchen, but was sidetracked when he glimpsed the boy's thrilled response. Vlad gave a weak gasp and beamed at the man, before quickly hiding the smile in the gloom hanging over his work space, within the shadow of the table. The boy was ignorant of the prolonged presence of the man as Walter watched the white hands enthusiastically perform their cleaning duties. The man went to his kitchen and pondered, for a fleeting moment, whether or not he should give the boy a frozen strawberry for his efforts. But he decided against doing so. If he gave the boy a strawberry once, the child would demand, or at least expect, to get one every time he did his chores. So, Walter never did give Vlad a strawberry, through the years, but he gifted him with many a satisfied nod.

"Uncle?"

Walter looked at the doorway that presented him with a view of the front door and the divider that separated it from the space that contained the table with his many mismatched chairs. He would not answer unless the boy came to him to speak while looking him in the eye. It was a matter of respect and disciplined action that would keep the boy submissive to the man as Walter grew older and was obviously not as strong as a younger man in his prime. Walter C. Dornez planned to never allow Vlad to look down on him, even if the child outgrew his six-foot one stature. That was the case for everyone else, as well. No one, including Jake and his father, ever noticed that Walter was not an exceptionally tall man, or that they had to look down in order to speak to him. They were always looking up.

Vlad scrambled out from behind the divider and went to the kitchen to speak to his uncle properly. Excited curiosity had forced him to speak before he had intended to, so he spoke again, peering up at the blue eyes. "Uncle?" The gaze told him to continue. "Why are all of your chairs so different? I like them all, but why aren't any of them the same?"

The man blinked, laying his hand on the counter as he considered the boy and his question. Confessing that the furniture had been jacked from several different houses might not be appropriate, because of the child's age. But then again, Vladimir was eleven, already enrolled in sixth grade. He was old enough to know how to keep his mouth shut. And if he wasn't, Walter would have to train the boy eventually, anyway. "They come from different places."

Vlad was wearing an 'Oh' expression as he looked up at the man, taking a breath while his little mind digested the explanation. It made sense. The child smiled. "Which one is your favorite, Uncle? I like the black one with the little trees and leaves carved on the back part."

No thoughts were wasted on the man's answer as he frowned at Vlad and returned his hand to his side. "I don't have favorites, Vladimir. I like them all the same. Now finish your chores so you can eat something tonight."

Vlad ran back to the table and disappeared behind the divider while the frown followed him and lingered in his direction.

The teen now knew that the chairs had been illegally acquired by his uncle, but the knowledge didn't bother him while he worked on a tall cabinet with prettily decorated glass, detailed with a large white flower with a vine-like stem and wide leaves. He realized that his rag was damp, through and through, and that it wasn't cleaning as well as it should because of the amount of Windex and dirt it had collected. When Vlad examined his dusting rag, it was also caked with dirt. As were Seras' instructions, Vlad returned to the kitchen to place his damp rag on the counter, starting the 'dirty pile', and he stuffed a clean rag into his pocket. His dusting rag was beaten clean over the sink, to limit the number of rags that would have to be loaded into the washing machine later, and then the teen returned to the glass doors of the cabinet. Painted dishes and figurines, similar to the glass one his uncle owned, were on display on the shelves. Vlad cleaned them off before setting them on the table so he could dust the individual shelves. A few Christmas decorations amongst the figurines called forth the spirit of the holiday and it played with the boy's mind as he worked.

It was cold and the breath trailing from the people walking on the sidewalk, condensed into a misty steam as it left their lips. Vlad was warming his hands in his pockets as his eyes wandered over the various display windows they were passing. Some contained trees surrounded by wrapped boxes, decorated with magnificent bows. Others showed off seasonal merchandise, arranged in a blanket of snow. Vlad knew that the snow was fake, that the trees were plastic, and that the presents were empty, but the Christmas music that pervaded every child's mind as it poured from the open doors, made the displays seem like they were real, for a heart-throbbing moment. Christmas was full of magic.

Little Vlad blew out a cloud of steam as his face directed his gaze to his uncle who was walking before the boy, alongside Jake's father. Jake was busy, so he wasn't present at the moment and Vlad was just a tad bit lonely as he trailed the two conversing men. His black sneakers hurried the child up to his uncle's side, breaking off their concentration as the red eyes watched them patiently. Walter easily let his expression form a scowl, and his face demanded a quick explanation.

"Uncle? Are we getting a Christmas tree?"

"We?" Walter caught onto the word before taking in the whole question. "Would you be paying for it as well?"

"No…" Vlad confessed to his shoes and then looked at the blue eyes. "Are you going to get a Christmas tree, Uncle?"

Walter watched the direction in which they were moving. "No."

Vlad blinked, amazed by the answer while Jake's father watched the child's response. "Why not?"

"Because I have no need, nor any desire to bring a tree into my home, boy. They're a fire hazard, and they're messy and expensive, and I don't want one."

"Oh…" Vlad sighed out in meek disappointment. "But…Uncle…" The man frowned at the boy as he timidly brought his eyes to his uncle's glare. "But…where is Santa supposed to put the presents if there's no tree, Uncle? He's not going to know where to put them."

The glare and annoyance had fallen from the man's face, dropping like clattering stones onto the sidewalk as his steps ended and he stood still. Jake's father had halted as well, while Vlad carried on for a few more paces before stopping. Confusion filled the boy, twisted with a touch of fear as he watched the blank look coming from Walter and the man beside him. The moving crowd behind them, broke over the stationary obstructions, and they passed the three without paying them much mind.

"Santa?" Walter finally spoke to the wide red eyes. The boy nodded slowly, mumbling a 'Yes Uncle'. "You still believe in Santa Claus?"

Vlad stiffened, standing straighter as his chest filled with breath and his eyes blinked rapidly. "Santa is real, Uncle. He always eats the cookies and milk and he leaves a few presents under the tree and a handful of candies in everyone's stocking. Some people don't think he's real, but I know, Uncle. I know he is."

Jake's father sucked in a breath that split over his teeth and whistled faintly through his lips. Walter was still staring at the child, but now he looked away with a grimace, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eye. He looked at Jake's father with a tired sigh. "How did you tell Jake?"

The man shook his head, occasionally glancing at the watchful child. "Didn't have to. He figured it out on his own, bright boy that he was. He was about eight, though…" The men stared at the boy.

"You believe in Santa Claus, Vladimir?" Walter gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes to the side with another sigh when Vlad nodded vigorously and began to recount all of the amazing attributes owned by the large, red wearing man.

"But I don't believe in Rudolph. That's only a story."

"Good for you." Walter muttered through his cigarette as he leaned into his hand, shielding his lighter from the breeze and the air being pushed around by the moving humans passing them by. Walter puffed the cigarette a few times and snapped his metallic lighter closed. He tossed it in the air once before stuffing it, along with his hand, into his pocket. His lungs sighed out a seeping cloud of smoke that made Vlad edge away from him and shorten his breaths. "Santa Claus isn't real, kid."

Vlad eyes bulged and he gasped, taking in the cigarette smoke that irritated his throat and made him cringe. "Wh…what do you mean…he isn't real? Uncle, he is real."

"I'm saying he's made up, imaginary, boy. He doesn't exist."

Walter's legs moved forward as he began to walk again. Jake's father kept by his side, while the astonished child hesitated before jogging after him, rarely blinking. "But he is real, Uncle. He is!"

"Don't raise your voice." Walter growled back impatiently. Jake's father appeared as if he were going to discourage the man, but Walter spoke too quickly. "Santa is a fraud."

Vlad's chest grew with heated emotion, and he in turn frowned at his uncle and furrowed his little brow. "You're wrong."

The men's faces slackened, then Walter's stiffened with fury, stabbing a undiluted glower into the child, breaking Vlad's own anger immediately, and replacing it with terror as a fist yanked on his clothes and Vlad was forced to stand against a hard wall while his uncle stood over him. "What did you say…you little brat?" Walter hissed in a deep voice, his knuckles feeling the rapid beat of Vlad's distressed heart, held against the boy's chest as the man's fist remained holding the front of the jacket the child was wearing. Vlad's chest jerked with shallow breaths. Jake's father stood at an angle cutting the two off from the eyes of the night crowd. No one even blinked at the two men. They could not see the child in the dark shadow given off by the overhanging canopy that was fused to the face of the building that owned the wall Vlad felt against his back.

The pale face trembled as quivering lips were stilled for speech. "Santa is real, Uncle."

"So you're calling me a liar?" The man growled, hating the stupidity of the child and the subject that consisted as the momentum behind this conflict.

Vlad stared up at them man, giving no answer for this question. "My mom told me that Santa Claus is real, Uncle. Maybe your mom told you he wasn't, but my mom told me that Santa is real, and my mom never lied. Never, since she was born. She never lied, because she said it was wrong…and that lies are bad."

Walter's temper had cooled some, but he was unamused as he moved the cigarette between his lips. "The fat bastard is fake, boy. She lied to you."

Vladimir stopped breathing and his eyes dilated, staring at the man's cold face. A flame flitted into the crimson eyes, brightening the blue ones above them. "My mother was not a liar, Uncle."

The rigid voice was alien to the men's ears, at least, for it to be coming from the shy little boy that was being held against the wall. Walter glared. "I'm saying she lied to you."

"She was not a liar." The red narrowed into a pointed glower as lips receded from the boy's teeth, slightly, showing their white forms. "I don't care what you say, Uncle. My mother was not a liar."

Knuckles cracked and veins bulged on the man's fist, still grasping the black jacket that was keeping the boy warm. The child was steadily becoming less of a child, and more of a demon as the red eyes burned and the white teeth hissed at the man. Walter pushed against the boy, adding pressure to his chest as his rage boiled in his own veins. But they were in public… "We're going to have a talk, Vladimir." Walter snarled, and turned his eyes to the man beside him after spitting out his cigarette, not even bothering to grind out its burning tip. "I'll get back to you after I take care of this brat…" Walter broke off his own sentence by dragging the boy down the sidewalk, pulling on Vladimir even as the child attempted to keep up with him. They disappeared around a corner.

Walter shut the door after ordering the boy to enter their home before him. Now he stood, glaring at the child that returned the look. Infuriated by the red eyes, Walter's hand shot out to claim the b lack hair and twisted it painfully, tightening his grasp when the boy did not show any signs of fear or submission, like he should have. "You're in for quite a rude awakening, boy." The man spat out his words with growing hatred for the red eyes.

"My mother was not a liar!"

Walter snarled, marching forward so that Vlad had no choice but to shuffle his feet backwards, snagging them on the flat floor at times. "Don't talk to me like that, boy."

"She wasn't a liar! You can't call her a liar!"

"I can call her whatever I want, you insolent little shit! You don't know your place!"

They were passing the table with its mismatched collection of chairs, and the pain from Vlad's scalp was beginning to radiate with heat. He closed his eyes against the pain and the fear he was hiding. "You can't call her a liar!"

"You can't tell me what I can or cannot do, boy! I'll call her a liar! I'll call her a bitch, if I want to!"

"YOU CAN'T CALL MY MOTHER NAMES!"

"Shut up!" Walter hissed as he pushed the boy onto his couch, and stood, looming over it. He touched his belt. "Do you want me to belt you, boy?"

"YOU CAN'T….MFF!" Walter's hand was a vice, clamped over his nephew's mouth as the man hissed through his teeth.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it! I told you to shut up." His volume had dropped as he spoke, and he tightened his hand over the boy's mouth with a snarl. "Don't you dare try to bite me, you fucking brat. I am sick of this behavior. I will not stand for it, boy."

The boy's glare was weakening as he seemed to gradually calm, so Walter scowled at the smaller face and released the child.

Vlad breathed in heavy, angry pants. "Do not call my mother names." He whispered.

Walter's eyes exploded with light and he snarled with bared teeth, startling a yelp from the boy as he grabbed Vlad and violently turned him over so that his face was buried in a couch cushion. A splayed hand pressed on the boy's shoulder blades, keeping him still as Walter's other hand undid his belt and caught its two ends to hold it as a comfortable oval-shaped loop. "Don't resist, Vladimir, or I'll belt you until you can't sit down."

Fear stole reason from the child as his wide eyes beheld the belt, and the fear jerked his limbs, desperately struggling to escape. Walter grasped a moving leg and the belt collided with the back of the boy's thigh, producing a yell that was ended by a hiss as Walter ordered him to be quiet. The belt snapped against the boy's jeans again. Vlad yelped. The third time, Vlad stifled the sound the best he could, but the forth time tore a whine from his throat. Walter let go of the boy and held the belt in both of his hands as he watched Vlad's reddened face struggle to hold it the tears that were forming when his thigh continued to sting.

Walter snapped the belt in his hands to get the boy's attention. He was wearing a deep scowl. "If you want to continue your behavior, the pants come off. This will hurt a hell of a lot more on bare skin, brat."

The child took in deep breaths, blinking with his watery vision. His body trembled, so he tried to make it stop, and did, before he spoke in an airy, stumbling voice. "U..Uncle…but…"

The man's eyes narrowed automatically and he moved the belt. "You want to continue?"

"No." Vlad gasped, rolling away from his uncle to cover his leg with the back of the couch. "I'm sorry…"

"Good." The belt lowered to the man's side and the scowl become shallower.

"But…" Red fell to the couch as the boy slowly brought himself to sit up, flinching when his leg stung a bit. "But…Uncle…"

Walter waited for Vlad to continue.

"…please…can you please not call my mom a liar…please?"

Now that it was a question, now that the boy was practically begging him, Walter considered the plea. His gaze narrowed slightly when he sighed. "I have no reason to cal your mother names. But you will not speak to me in the manner that you did, boy. Understand?"

"Yes…"

"See? It isn't that hard…but now you've wasted my time and disrupted what I was doing earlier..." Muttering, Walter began to fit his belt through the loops of his pants while Vladimir watched sullenly from the couch cushions.

"I'm sorry Uncle. But…my mom told me Santa Claus is real, so he is real."

The man paused, in the middle of pushing the black leather belt through the last loop on his waist, and he observed the hunched child that was nervously tugging on his sleeves, and then his pants, and then the pockets of his jacket. Walter looked at his belt as he worked it through the loop and buckled it. "I told you that he is not real. Your mother told you a white lie, a fib a lot of parents tell their children. But she should not have kept this going for so long, Vladimir. Most children learn that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny…" Vlad's head snapped up, and then he ducked it to his chest as he chewed on his lip. "…are not real, before they're eleven years old."

Vlad was quiet for a time, and his uncle waited for a moment, and then went to the open door.

"We'll see if Santa comes tomorrow, Uncle."

The man looked back from the doorway, and then continued on his way, and left the boy alone in the room.

The next time he saw the boy, Vladimir had his face buried in his arms on the table, slouched in a chair. It was Christmas morning. Walter stood in the doorway that led into the room containing the couch. He watched the boy move his shoulders and then give up on fixing his posture. His throat was thick with spent tears. "My mom did lie to me, Uncle."

"So you're crying because Santa doesn't exist, boy?"

"I'm crying b…because she lied to me when she said Santa Claus was real, a…and she lied to me when she said she never l…lies." The boy let out a sob that darkened the man's face with distaste, but Walter let him cry for a minute.

"It's not the end of the world. If that's the worst thing she's ever done, you're pretty damn lucky." Steps brought the man to the table where he made sure the boy had stopped crying. Vlad was rubbing his face with his sleeves, making it redder as he tried to hide his disheveled appearance, not wanting to anger the man more than he already had. He sniffed with his nose a few times, and let out a deflating breath.

He continued to hide his face. "Merry Christmas, Uncle." Vlad wiped his hands on his jeans and then leaned over to pick up a red, tissue wrapped bundle hidden on a different chair, and the boy stood it up on the side of the table, closest to the man, and then dropped his arms into his lap and stared at them as his bangs veiled his face. "I didn't have any money, so I couldn't buy you anything, but we made stuff at school…so I made you a present. But…I don't think you'll like it." The boy mumbled as a hand appeared by the gift. "I don't know what you like…" The little red ribbon at the top of the gift, which had blended with the tissue paper, was undone and the noisy, crinkling paper was untwisted. In the midst of the red wrapping, stood a thin, almost vase-like cup made out of clay, with a thick base stabilized further by four clawed feet that were attached to a dragon whose tail lifted and curved back to form a handle while its neck wrapped around the cup, just under its rim. There were folded wings occupying the space left near its hind legs. It wasn't perfect. There were a few fingerprints hardened in the clay, accompanied by a sprinkling of trivial scratches and imperfections, and it appeared as if one of the clawed toes had fallen off. When Walter flicked his eyes to the tissue wrapping paper, he found the missing toe, and then looked at the cup again, and then the glum boy that had made it.

Vlad's shoulders slumped when he heard the man return the cup to the tissue paper and then walk away, but a moment later an arm reached over his head and laid a familiar box in front of the boy. Vlad sucked in a quick breath, gaping at the blackened hand he could clearly see through the glass display window. The gape traced the progress of the man as he picked up the cup, took the missing toe and dropped it inside, and then walked over to the shelf and added it to the collection. "Merry Christmas, Vladimir…" He looked back at the boy, but was stopped when a growth attached itself to his stomach. He frowned down at the boy, staring as the child hugged him warmly with a sniffling smile. Gradually, Walter permitted his hand to pat the boy's head. When the growth detached himself from his uncle, the man nodded to him with a finger indicating the box. "It's yours, but it's not a toy. You keep it on the shelf and you look at it. Nothing else." The boy nodded happily, and then Walter took his leave.

They were all nice memories, Vlad smiled as he headed for the kitchen. He heard some noise down the hallway, and figured Seras had decided to start fixing up Integra's office now. Once in the kitchen, the teen went to the counter and read the different labels on the cleaning chemicals, determining which one he would use to clean the cupboards, the sink, and the counter. He was in the middle of finishing up with the cupboards when Anderson threw his dirty rags onto the counter and dragged his feet over to the clean ones. The teen stopped, gazing emptily at the sloping row of dishes, platters, bowls, and glasses that Vlad was beginning to organize, placing them back in the confines of the cupboard. Vlad glanced at Anderson over his shoulder, pushing a stack of plates onto a shelf.

"What are you staring at, fat ass?"

Anderson flinched out of his stupor, and broke his gaze away from the hidden counter top. "You don't have to do all that too, Vlad. I mean, no one even looks in there." He stared as Vlad ignored him with a developing frown.

"No wonder there was so much dirt in there. I found dead moths in the corners, Anderson….along with crumbs and dust…"

"Oh, shut up…" Anderson mumbled bitterly and snatched up a handful of clean rags. He glared at the back of the sweatshirt. "I hate cleaning, so it's not my fault…and Seras is supposed to do that…" He received no response, so the blonde stalked out of the room, to finish with the smaller upstairs bathroom, but he stopped by the stairs when he heard Vlad call to him.

"Where's the other guest room you wanted me to clean?"

"Near the laundry room, just down the hall, on the…" Anderson turned, as if he were walking down the hall he spoke of, and he lifted his left hand. "…on the left. It's the only other door over there."

"Got it."

Anderson began to ascend the stairs while Vlad continued to put the dishes away, filling the kitchen with the sound of clinking glasses and other objects. While he was polishing the faces of the cupboard doors, Seras wordlessly entered and left the kitchen, dropping off a full bag of trash by the sink before she left. Vlad didn't know what to do with it, so he just left it there and worked around the white obstacle.

The downstairs spare guest room was…Vlad didn't want to admit it, but it was obviously much nicer and more accommodating than the up stairs guest room. The upstairs room was…blander, while this one had the atmosphere of a real bedroom. He cleaned a dark, mahogany bedpost, admiring stolidly, the luxury contained in every piece of furniture in the room. He might have thought that this room was nicer than the one he had slept in, but he preferred the up stairs room. He was more comfortable being in it, while this one was a little overwhelming. As he passed the laundry room door, a short feeling of pity for the neglected room passed through him as the teen made his way towards the white sitting room. He left the piano for last, and while he was tempted to play it, he resisted the weighing desire and closed the cover over the keys, spun on his heels, and left the room. Wandering around, Vlad opened a door that appeared to be a closet, and then wandered over to another door, and in this closet he found a vacuum cleaner which he hauled up the stairs and proceeded to vacuum the stairs and the hallway in addition to the guest room. Down stairs, all he had to vacuum was the 'luxurious' guest room. Afterwards, Vlad set to wandering again, searching for one of the Anderson siblings to figure out how he was supposed to mop the tiles and polish the wood flooring in the dining room. Anderson was found descending the stairs, and the green eyes blinked at the question. He remembered the sound of the vacuum cleaner from earlier, and he had noticed that the hallway and stairs had been vacuumed.

"Did you do the stairs and the hall?" A tan thumb jerked back at the end of the stairs. Vlad's eyes followed the direction.

"Yeah."

Anderson's hand dropped to his pocket and he scowled at his socks as he began to walk down the rest of the stairs. "You don't have to do all the extra stuff, okay? You can just let us do it…"

"Where's the mop, Anderson?" Vlad cut in as they continued to walk when they reached the tiles.

The teen sighed away his irritating guilt, and spoke. "I'm showing you right now. You use the Swifter for the tiles, switch the pad, and then use it for the wood with a different spray I'll get for you."

Vlad nodded, though Anderson wasn't looking at him. Once the Swifter was revealed, Anderson left to tackle his parents' room while Vlad started to 'Swift' the tiles in the kitchen. It was kind of fun, so he continued down a hall, to the stairs, and down the corridor that led to the laundry room and the other guest room. He changed the pad, and continued on with the piano room. Then, he concluded with the dining room floor. When he had returned all of the supplies he had used to their rightful places, the boy stood in the kitchen and gazed at the stools while he leaned on the counter before the sink. As minutes ticked by, his fingers tapped restlessly on the granite counter top and he shifted his weight from one leg to another. With a sudden huff, he pushed himself off the counter and strolled away from the kitchen, burying his hands into his pockets. He skipped one of the three steps leading into Integra's office, and moved directly to the sliding glass doors. He paused when he saw a figure working under the blaze of the cool winter sun, holding a long, metallic blue pole with a net fixed at the bottom of it, skimming leaves and dead caterpillars and bumble bees from the surface of the pool.

Anderson looked up, surprised when Vlad opened the sliding glass door and walked towards the edge of the pool. "What are you doing out here? Taking a break?" Anderson had had to take a few liberating breaks so far, so he didn't blame Vlad. These were pretty strenuous chores…

"No. I'm done."

The pole stopped moving and the green gaze stayed with the black clad figure as it crouched down to analyze a caterpillar that was twisting about in the water. It was too far away for Vlad to scoop it out, so he just watched the drowning, fuzzy insect. You have the damnedest luck, Vlad thought to himself as he watched. You could have been born in a meadow out somewhere, where there aren't any pools or pesticides, but no. You had to be born here so you could drown in this freaking chlorinated pool…

"What do you mean you're done?"

Red looked up at Anderson and noticed that he had stopped working. Vlad blinked.

"I'm done. I did all the rooms you told me to do, and the kitchen. I cleaned all the floors, did the dusting. There wasn't any trash to pick up, though, so it was fast work." He was reminded of the trash bag Seras had left in the kitchen. They had given him relatively easy rooms to clean.

"Oh." The net pushed the chlorinated pool water as it swam about, picking up a few drifting particles. It was quiet for a while and Vlad returned to watching the drowning caterpillar, and then a few nomadic leaves. He heard the water move and saw the ripples travel to his end of the pool as Anderson worked. Vlad spoke to his reflection.

"Can I try?"

"What?" Anderson stopped again, lowering the pole so that the net was resting on the bottom of the pool and he could gently lean on it.

"Can I clean the pool for a bit?"

Anderson gave the pale teen an incredulous look, then frowned and bent his head as he began to clean again. "No. You've done enough. My mom's going to get mad if she thinks we made you do all of the chores. You've already done a lot, Vlad." Now I have to check and see how much he actually did. The blonde sighed regretfully at the water. He probably did a sloppy job…he had to have done a sloppy job, to get done so fast… Darn. And how am I supposed to clean all that before Mom gets home without him noticing? Maybe I can take him home really fast…no, that'd take too long. Anderson worked one of his shoulders that seemed a bit stiff. Maybe we'll get out of having to do those rooms… It was Mom's idea, getting Vlad to help. She can't punish us by making us do those rooms again… But the guest room…she always checks that one, and the dining room. Darn it…I really…

"Can I just try for a sec, Anderson? Come on, don't be so stingy. I rarely ever get to be around pools, though I've cleaned a few. People don't mind having me in their backyards, there's never that much to take, anyway. Except inner tubes, and floaties…and nobody wants to buy those used when you can get them so cheap at the store."

"I said no." Anderson grumbled impatiently as he dragged the net around the corner of the pool. Vlad watched him quietly for a while, and then redirected his eyes to the clearing water.

"Do you think the pool's too cold to swim in?"

The jock grumbled again but consented to give an answer. "Not really. We can warm it up a little, or we could heat up the Jacuzzi."

"You have a fucking Jacuzzi too?"

"Don't cuss!"

Red stared at the moving figure now, taken aback by his biting tone. The eyes narrowed. "Sorry." He glared at the pool, wishing away his own growing bitterness. "You don't have to act so goddamn bitchy…"

Anderson blew out a growl, fixing his glasses and then stepping along the perimeter of the pool. "Sorry…I'm sick of cleaning." He paused. "Do you know what time it is?"

"No."

"Can you go check for me?"

Vlad waited a moment and then shrugged as he stood up and went to the glass doors. He came back and crouched beside the pool again. Anderson had moved closer to his spot now. "It's almost one." The sound of splattering water drew the boy's eyes and Vlad watched Anderson lay the pole on the ground with an easy smile. "Great. We can take a break for lunch."

"Fat ass and his food." Vlad mumbled to himself as he stood again, but then he chuckled at his words and cracked his neck as he passed into the office. In the kitchen, Anderson opened the fridge and looked through its contents. He flipped a bag of tortillas onto the counter, followed by a bag of shredded cheese. As he got himself a plate, he spoke.

"Do you want a quesadilla?"

Not expecting the question, Vlad hesitated. Now Anderson was looking at him, holding a plate in his hand as he waited for Vlad's 'yes' or 'no'.

"Sure."

Anderson retrieved another plate and commenced the process of making their lunches. The prepared tortillas were popped into the microwave, one at a time, while Vlad was told to pick out a drink and to pour some cranberry juice for Anderson 'while you're at it'.

When they went to sit at the stools under the hanging lamp lights, Vlad was looking at Anderson's brown, leather flip flops. They were nice… He focused on his hot, cheesy, quesadilla, his mouth beginning to water with the thought of more food, though he wasn't especially hungry at the moment. Anderson was on his third bite when Vlad took his first.

"Good?" Came a muffled voice and Vlad glanced at the boy beside him and nodded slightly.

"Do you eat these a lot?"

"Not really." Anderson munched on his food, stopping to take a sip of juice as Vlad chewed his own lunch carefully. Seras arrived after a few minutes.

"I thought I smelled food." She breathed in the scent and sighed, tossing another trash bag towards the sink, creating a group of three white bulbous forms. She went to the refrigerator and ended up making her own quesadilla. Anderson had slowed, taking smaller bites, trying to prolong his break, so he was still eating when his sister set her plate on the counter, near him, and began to eat while standing. Seras was leaning on the edge of the counter when she looked over at the boys. "How much have you guys done so far?"

Anderson spoke first, while Vlad's reluctance to answer presented little competition. "I finished both of the bathrooms, I started my room and then did half of the pool." He took a bite and swallowed seconds later. His remaining quesadilla was used to indicate Vlad. "He finished everything already."

The blue gaze grew a little, staring at the telling green eyes. She would check the rooms and start on the touch ups that would be necessary when she finished her food…and her other chores. The girl began to eat at an un-leisurely pace. Anderson noticed and it sent his eyes to the counter as he forced himself to stuff the rest of his food into his mouth. He rinsed off his plate and left to finish cleaning the pool while Vlad saw him go, still chewing on his food. His eyes shifted over to Seras as she ate steadily. Vlad managed to finish all of the food and his blank features were directed to the cleared white surface of his plate. "I can help with anything you…"

"No. I'm good, Vlad." Seras threw the last bite of her lunch into her mouth and went to the sink to wash off the grease and put her plate in the dish washer. She came back and took Vlad's plate and glass and she loaded them into the dishwasher, dumped in some soap, snapped the cap that would hold the powder, and the machine beeped when she pushed the start button. Instantly the sound of water and mechanical movement hummed from the dishwasher, the noise drifting after the girl as she left the kitchen. Vlad sat on his stool, unmoved as his unfocused eyes watched the time on the microwave. It was a little after one. He sighed and thrummed his fingers on the counter and then folded his arms and rested his head in them. Something seemed off with the siblings today. It must be the cleaning. Work was making them…mad…impatient…something. Oh screw them. He was bored.

Vlad abandoned his stool and gave his company to the pool instead. Anderson was scraping the sides of the pool with a metal bristled brush that had replaced the net on the end of the blue pole. The boy didn't say anything to the new arrival. Vlad watched him.

"Yo."

"What?"

Pause.

"Fat ass."

"WHAT?" Anderson snarled, glaring at the amused pale features. His temper cooled, sending Anderson grumbling around the pool as he scrubbed with the brush. "Sorry. What do you want?" If you cuss I'm going to yell at you again, his frown said in the absence of words.

"I'm bored, fat ass. Entertain me. You're being a lousy clown. "

A scoff was given to the black haired teen, and Anderson smirked to himself. "Don't call me fat."

"Then I'll just call you an ass."

"You're a butt, Vlad. Leave me alone, if this is all you're going to do…"

"You're a butt."

"You're a butt." Anderson countered with a faint growl.

Vlad stared at him until he was sure the other teen was looking at him. "I'll fight you if you say that one more time."

Anderson was quiet. Then he frowned, beginning to become annoyed again. "You're a distraction." He muttered to the blue pole as he forced it to scrape the side of the pool.

Nothing else was said as the meaningless chitchat became too tiresome to keep up. A white face gazed at its reflection in the caterpillar-less pool as the sun journeyed overhead, even after Anderson had finished and gone inside. There was nothing better to do, so Vlad went inside to get out of the sun, debated on whether or not he would play the piano, decided against doing so because he didn't feel like 'distracting' the Andersons, and instead plopped himself onto one of the white sitting chairs, folded his arms, and fell asleep. Sleeping was less boring than staying awake at the moment.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

It's a nice tune. I wonder if I could play it on the piano?

Vlad's sleep fuzzy mind was still muddled as he followed the sound that was coming from one of the kitchen cupboards. He opened the door and picked up the origin of the ring tone. It was Anderson's cell phone.

Rich ass, fat bastard… Vlad glared at the iPhone and then lost the expression as the phone continued to ring and he looked at the caller ID. Heinkel Wolfe. That was the cross-dressing blonde that liked to wear sunglasses… Vlad carried the phone with him as he left the kitchen, returning to the white sitting room as he tapped on the touch screen and brought the cell to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey Alex. I just wanted to make sure about the time you gave me, earlier, for tonight. I know you said six, but we were wondering if you could pick us up at six thirty instead, because…"

Just how long would it take until she stopped talking? He had expected her to say 'Hi' and then he could tell her that he wasn't Anderson, but the girl wasn't giving him a chance to say anything. So…he had no choice but to cut her off. "Yeah… Sorry. I'm not Anderson."

Dead silence came from the speaker, and for a moment Vlad thought that Heinkel had hung up on him, but then an irritated voice shot into his ear. "Who is this? I don't like jokes like this. Who are you?"

Vlad sat on a white sitting chair, hearing the cushions sigh as he ran a hand through his hair and leaned back into the chair. "I'm bored as hell at the moment."

Hostility touched the girl's tone now. "Who are you?"

"If I tell you, you'll hang up on me."

It was quiet. "Where's Alex?"

"I think he's cleaning his room or something right now. I haven't seen him in a while… What time is it?"

"It's past two."

Pause.

"Who are you?" Heinkel demanded.

"I told you. If you know who I am you're going to hang up on me. Hey, I have a question, since you're a girl. Do you think…would you be flattered if someone said you were cute like a rat?"

"Excuse me?" The girl was obviously offended, so Vlad shook his head and leaned over to rest one of his elbows on his knees.

"No. Let me explain. Is a rat that's soft, clean, blonde and white, eats ramen or whatever out of your hand and licks your fingers when you put them near its face, a cute rat? It's friendly and clean as hell and loads of other people, guys, say it's cute, but do girls just not get it? You guys just don't think rats are cute?"

A very confused Heinkel stammered, collected herself, and then frowned at her phone while someone else asked her who she was talking to, and that she shouldn't talk to some guy she doesn't know. "I don't know… But…no. I bet some girls think rats are cute… Why?"

"I told Female Anderson that she was cute like a rat and she got mad."

"Female Anderson?"

"Anderson's sister. Her name's Seras. Blonde, blue eyes…"

"Yeah, yeah. I know her. Do you?"

"Since…only yesterday, I guess."

Heinkel stared blankly at the wall of her bedroom while a hand was tugging on her sleeve to get her attention. She blinked. "So you're at Alex's house right now?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Are you one of Alex's friends? Do I know you?"

"…Kinda. And we go to the same school. I know you. You're Heinkel Wolfe. We've been going to the same school for four years now…I think. But…okay. You wouldn't mind if someone said you were cute like a rat?"

"N o…I mean yes. I don't want to be like a rat at all. Even if it's cute."

"Who are you talking to?" Yumie badgered her friend as the girl continued to give these strange responses. "Don't talk to some weirdo. Are you nuts, Heinkel?"

"Shh! Yumie, I'm trying to figure out who he is. He goes to our school."

"He could be lying." The black-haired girl grumbled as Heinkel seemed to be listening to the person on the phone.

"Is someone else there with you?" Vlad was sitting upright again. He thought he heard someone coming, and he looked around but no one came into view.

"Yeah." Heinkel responded while Yumie told her not to tell the 'weirdo' her name.

"Who?"

"It's none of your business." Heinkel snapped, becoming more cautious now about what she was doing. She looked at Yumie and pointed at her door. "Go get a phone. Call Alex's house and ask him if he lost his cell or if someone's at his house." Yumie agreed with this plan so she dashed out of the room and was dialing on the phone as she ran back to her friend's bedroom.

"Fine." Vlad frowned as he heard muffled voices. "You don't have to tell me, I don't really care. Do you have brothers or sisters?"

"No. I'm an only child."

"Me too. Hey, are you going out with Anderson or something?"

"What?" Yumie was listening to the line ring for the first time as she saw her friend's face color a little. "No. Alex and I are only friends." This response calmed Yumie, so she could focus on the phone in her hand.

Vlad was distracted by the ringing that filled the Andersons' household. "The Chief is calling…"

"What?"

"I think Anderson's mom is calling because all of the phones are ringing. Damn. How many phones do they have? They're freaking everywhere."

Heinkel's eyes widened a little and she looked at Yumie. "He's really at Alex's house. He said the phones are ringing."

Yumie stared at Heinkel, biting her lip when someone picked up the Anderson's house phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Alex…"

"Shit. How many girls are calling him? How freaking popular is he? Or is this like his own freaking harem?"

Oh my God. The girls looked at one another as they heard the same voice on their phones. Yumie's mouth creased as her teeth clenched. "Who are you?" She growled.

Vlad paused. "I'm not going to tell you. You'd hang up. I promise. You don't really want to know. But, who are you?"

"Give the phone to Alex!"

Yumie's heightened volume rung in Vlad's ear, forcing him to cringe and take the phone away from his face. He returned it, annoyed. "You don't need to yell. I can hear you perfectly fine when you don't yell. You want to talk to Anderson, I'll go get him. But it might take a while if he's not in his room. This house is a goddamn mansion, and I might get lost…. If I do, would you call up a search party for me?" Vlad was chuckling as he got out of the chair and headed for Anderson's room. "But I have to warn you. Anderson's not in a good mood. He's been cleaning all day. It's just his fault. He's so fucking slow it's unbelievable. Can't believe he's an athlete. Pampered, rich guys bug the shit out of me…when they act all whiney and crap."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't cuss." Yumie cut in bitterly.

"Sorry. Bad habit. I can't help it sometimes….here we go. Fat ass!" Vlad entered Anderson's room where he saw the boy was making his bed. A pale hand waved the phone in the air while the iPhone stayed at his ear. Yumie and Heinkel flinched at the reference.

"What are you doing?" Stunned green eyes stared at the two phones, but Anderson took the one that was handed to him while he was still trying to grasp the situation. As he raised the phone to his ear, Vlad answered.

"Heinkel called your cell. Some other girl called the home phone... Didn't you hear it ring?"

Anderson's brow furrowed, still confused as he focused on the phone. "Hello?"

"Alex." Yumie sighed in relief while Heinkel took a deep breath to sigh out after her. "It's me, Yumie. Who is that? Who's at your house?"

"What? Um…" Anderson jerked as a hand waved at him.

"Don't tell them who I am."

"Why?" Anderson blinked, finally adjusting to the current circumstances that were creating this disorderly moment. "Vlad! Give me back my phone! You can't take other people's stuff! And… YOU RUNT! My mom's going to be pissed when she checks my phone…she'll think I…"

"Damn it." Vlad's quiet curse silenced the room and the boy handed the phone over to Anderson as his features came to hold a dull expression. "She hung up on me because you yelled out my name."

Anderson took the phone with a frown. Yumie had gasped, he realized, when he had said Vlad's name.

"HIM?" The girl exclaimed, aghast.

Anderson's eyes dulled as they wandered about over his carpet. Did I just do something really stupid? Yumie's voice was raised, so he spoke in order to quiet her. "Yeah. Vlad's here…" The girl's tone irked him as she scoffed and tried to give him a lecture on common sense. He barked at the phone without necessarily meaning to. "So what if he's here, Yumie? Do you think there's something wrong with that?"

The girl was quiet. "Okay, fine… sorry Alex. Heinkel was just calling to see if you could pick us up a half hour later. We're still working on our project and it took us a while to go get more supplies, and we want to finish it today to get it out of the way. Plus my mom won't let me go anywhere if my homework's not done."

"Okay…" The air quieted with the return of calm and order. Anderson spoke softly. "Sure. Six thirty is fine."

"Thanks Alex…be smart…and bye." She hung up, giving awkwardness to the empty line that began to beep as Anderson stood, staring at Vlad, trying to determine whether he was angry or not. After his anger had been redirected to Yumie, his opinion of Vlad's invasive actions, dropped. It meant nothing now, so the blonde teen put the phone on his bed and his iPhone in his pocket. After quickly fixing his blankets, folding them back and setting his pillows on top of them, Anderson addressed the presence that was watching him idly. "That's it. I'm done."

Vlad blinked at him, waiting for the meaning of these ambiguous words. But it didn't seem like Anderson was 'done' dealing with Vlad, so it was a shallow suspense that did not do much to affect the mood. Anderson sat on his bed with a sigh, looking at his feet and then sweeping his vision up towards the black hair. They were quiet. "So you're going somewhere at six thirty? You with them both…a threesome?"

A scowl ruined the tan features as disgust contracted the muscles on Anderson's face. "I'm going with a few friends. I'm just giving Yumie and Heinkel a ride. I've known them since…forever." He had calmed, relieved of the weight of his holiday chores. Exhaustion closed the green eyes. I want a nap, Anderson took a breath and let it out gradually.

"Can you drop me off at my place when you go to pick them up? I need to get home."

The eyes opened and began to watch the red orbs that were peering back at them. A hand ruffled Anderson's hair and then was used to support him again as he leaned back. "Sure thing, around six, then."

A nod was Vlad's response. He was looking out the window now. "Sun's already going down. Crazy how short the days are."

"My phone says it's almost three, or just past it, by now." Sure didn't feel short, Anderson thought and a groan vibrated in his throat as he stretched his cramped muscles. His eyes meandered about the room and settled on the trash bag by his closet doors. It was only half way full, and contained only articles of clothing he was planning on giving to his mom to donate to the poor. "Hey, Vlad? You want some clothes that I'm getting rid of?" He looked at the boy and saw the beginning of ire in the red eyes, so he quickly sat up and swung his arms anxiously, his mind racing. "I let my friends pick out some clothes in case they want them, or else they're donated and stuff." At least Seras did that all the time. He didn't really share clothes with his own friends, but it was only a harmless lie. And it worked. He saw the friendlier expression come up behind him and watch as Anderson opened the bag.

"Why are you getting rid of them? They're pretty nice."

Because the logos are fading and they're a little small on me. "I grew out of them, that's all." He gave a jerky smile to the boy as he handed him a grey sweatshirt with a partially faded blue word on it. Please don't notice. Just think it's the style. Apparently Vlad thought the sweatshirt was supposed to look this way, because neither his eyes nor his voice ever expressed any different opinion on the matter. Vlad was turning the sweatshirt around and holding it up to himself experimentally. It wasn't black, but it had blue on it so he was allowed to wear it. Blue, white, and black; those were his uncle's colors and everybody needed to have something to do with these colors on their clothing as a show of loyalty. That wasn't really Walter's rule, but the Senior leaders thought it was important for the gang to have this policy. Luckily, they were common colors that 'average people' wore as well. Pale lips smiled as they picked up another warm jacket that was mostly black. There was also a pair of blue jeans and even black athletic shorts with a vertical white stripe on one of its sides.

"Mind if I take them all? Or is there a waiting list?" He asked both seriously and jokingly to the jock.

The green eyes widened a bit, but returned to their original size when Anderson blinked and waved his hands. "Sure. Take 'em. They're all yours." He snapped his fingers and started for the door as Vlad looked his new clothes over. "I'll go get your clothes out of the drier so you can change."

"Cool." Vlad hung the shorts on his arm and examined the jacket again. "Cool…"