Cheryl was out by the pool. The air was chilly, but Archie wasn't as cold as he thought he'd be. Cheryl wasn't shivering either, and he wondered if it was some spell that she was doing.

"Oh, Archibald." She was the only one who called him by this name, "Has my father explained to you how much of a train wreck I am?" She asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"He…" Archie sat next to her, "He's said some weird stuff. Do you know what this is about?"

"Oh, Archie," Cheryl laughed, "It should be obvious, hmm?"

"It's not to me."

"Well," Cheryl reached out a hand, an offering to dance. Archie reluctantly accepted. Once he was pressed close, he could feel a warmth pool over him, like someone had thrown a blanket around his shoulders, "Archie, I rarely get a say in my life. I never thought I'd get many choices, I'm used to it. But you…you're the only decent person left in Riverdale. So I chose you."

"For…" Archie furrowed his brow.

Instead of an answer, or perhaps in place of one, Cheryl lifted herself on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.

He stood, shocked, body tense as Cheryl maintained contact for a few more seconds. It wasn't an inappropriate kiss, very chaste by what he thought Cheryl's M.O. would have been, but untoward all the same.

"My lipstick's maple red, by the way, in case you're wondering why it tastes so sweet," She added in a whispered giggle.

Archie broke away.

"Cheryl-" He growled, "You can't just…kiss people!"

"I can. And you're not just 'people', you're my future."

"Oh, god," Archie paused, leaning on the side of the house. He felt ill.

"What would you prefer? Bethrothed? Promised? Consort?" She asked in a purr, "It's all the same."

"What? Are you…" Archie felt dizzy.

"That's the details my father is very eager to discuss with you. I mean, it's almost a done deal. I know it's shocking now, but once we walk you through-," Cheryl patted his back gently, but Archie was startled.

"Don't touch me!" He looked up, "Are you crazy?"

"Debatable, but not about this. Archie, don't you see? With Jason unlikely to return, as it seems. They need an heir. And I need someone who can help me climb to the top."

"Cheryl, stop, just stop." Archie put a good few feet between them, "I don't know who you think I am, but things have changed for me. You…you need someone to help you, I get that. I know that you're a witch, so, uhm, you don't want me."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm a Grimm."

He expected her to respond in the same way that Valerie had, but instead, she just grinned in ultimate glee, "Oh! It worked!"

"Wha-,"

"My mother guessed your mom was one, but it couldn't be confirmed. Usually, Grimms don't come into their powers until the ages of 18 to 25. But when choosing a strong husband, I had to be sure. So I may have…sped up the process. I wasn't sure it worked."

"You…" Archie stared at her, unhinged, "You did this to me?" He asked in a hollow tone, "I've been going crazy for weeks now! I thought I was insane! Valerie hates me!" He yelled.

"Oh, you're so dramatic. It's a gift," Cheryl said through gritted teeth, "You're incredible now. And my family…if we align ourselves with a Grimm, we'll truly be unstoppable."

"I don't want this. I don't want you," Archie said, turning to leave.

"Don't act so high and mighty. I scratch your back and you scratch mine. That's what this is. You agree to the betrothal, you are given everything you want. Can't you imagine it?" She asked.

Archie shook her off. The force of it sent her flying back into the snow.

"Leave me alone," Archie whispered, "I don't want this." He whispered again, and for a second, he was sure that Cheryl understood. But, she stood, crossing her arms.

"You'll be back. I know it."

XX

Betty and Jughead pushed through the door of Sweet Pea's trailer.

Sweet Pea was lounging on the couch, eating a bag of chips and watching 'Game of Thrones'.

"Ah! The prodigal son returns," Sweet Pea said, making room, "Come and sit."

"Just for tonight," Jug rolled his eyes. But Betty recognized how this felt like a safe, familiar place to him. How he reached over and stole some chips and seemed to sink into the couch.

"My mom is…well, she wouldn't let Jug in, that's for sure," Betty said, leaning against the wall.

"And Archie is really upset. Something that happened at the ball. Dunno what." Jughead shrugged, "So I didn't want to disturb him."

"But Jug and I are long overdue for a movie-snuggle night," Betty added. As Jughead looked up at her, her cheeks flushed and her heart beat fast.

"Ugg, barf." Sweet Pea fake vomited.

"Archie did have news though. Apparently, the Blossoms were talking as though they were the ones who sent Veronica's dad to jail."

This perked Sweet Pea up.

"Wait. Serious?"

"Yeah, it was pretty clear they didn't think Archie was listening," Jughead agreed, "If Clifford sent Hiram to jail, tore his family apart-,"

"Maybe Hiram was trying to do the same to him. By going after Jason!" Sweet Pea leaped up, "Finally! We're getting somewhere now." He rubbed his hands together.

"Not sure on that, bud," Jughead shrugged, "I dunno what we can do with this. Alas, dead men tell no tales."

Betty glanced at Sweet Pea over Jughead. They didn't usually, but…

"Anyway! Movie, me, you," Jughead stood, pointing to Betty, "I'll order a pizza, you choose the flick."

"Be safe, you two," Sweet Pea crooned in a sing-songy voice, "Safe sex is the best sex!"

"And this," Jughead said, launching a pillow at him, "is why I don't come back here."

XX

On Monday, Ethel expected to see Veronica sitting in her seat in her homeroom, offering an apologetic smile with a basket of expensive muffins or cupcakes. That seemed how she worked; that all her apologies were with a cash amount attached to them.

Her father hadn't been able to be settled after Veronica came, and she'd seen Veronica leave, face pinched and expression unsettled.

He'd been half-lucid all night, murmuring words that were incomprehensible or just plain strange all night. There was one recurring word that just kept popping up. It seemed to cause him a great deal of stress, but couldn't be convinced to stop.

Vampire.

She turned to Betty.

She motioned to Veronica's seat, as though to ask where her best friend was. Betty gave Ethel a helpless, confused-as-you shrug. Veronica was not one to miss class.

Ethel sank into her seat during class, her mind wandering far from Ancient Egyptians. In her notebook, her hands doodled. The only vampires she knew were from Twilight, but that didn't stop an element of nightmares from eking out of her pen sketches.

She hardly registered people passing her to turn in their homework. She knew she was pitied; she'd be excused from any and all classwork.

Someone sat down in Veronica's seat, the one directly in front of her. Then, someone was tapping her page.

She looked up to see Reggie staring down at her, his expression severe.

"What's that?" He asked.

"It's just…" She put down her pen, staring at her ink-smudged fingers, "My imagination."

"Is it?" Reggie asked. He seemed to be asking in a tone that asked 'or it real', and not surprised that she could dream this up. His tone unnerved her. It was the sternness of it, the absolute pointedness.

"I don't know."

She didn't know why she admitted that. Why she said that. He was going to think she was crazy now, too, wasn't she? Well, she was already unpopular. Wouldn't matter.

Instead, Reggie just slowly shook his head.

"This world is not what we thought it was," He told her. He seemed to understand. To what extent? To how much more did he know than her? Undecided.

But maybe she had a true ally.

XX

Veronica made all the motions of getting ready for school.

She dressed in her usual clothes, did her makeup, waved her mother away, and told her mother it was a nice day...she thought she'd walk to school.

Her mother knew Riverdale, generally, was safe, so she had no reason to object.

Then, she hid behind a bush and watched her mother disappear.

After, she doubled back.

Her nanny growing up had a fond appreciation for John Hughes movies, so the point being, she had a very good education on how to play hookey, courtesy of one Mr. Buller.

She'd all but perfected her mother's tone and cadence back when she was in 5th grade. She also hadn't a reason to miss school since she arrived here; she was a good girl now. Good girls did not miss school.

When she called in, it was clear the office lady had no reason to think Veronica was not her mother, calling in her poor darling for having a fever.

Perfect.

Back in New York, on the days she'd stay home, she'd lounge around or go to clubs.

Not today. No, she had a goal. A goal that was perhaps the most task she'd do. It would change her life if it were true.

She needed proof. Undeniable evidence that what Mr. Muggs claimed about her parents was true.

If it was?

That voice haunted her. She'd almost abandoned this completely, convinced herself it was a flight of hysteria and she was wound up lately, but it kept coming back.

It wouldn't be there if there wasn't some subconscious part of her that knew it was true, right?

And if she was. If her parents were truly…that….

Well, Veronica hadn't decided that far ahead yet.

The first thing she did was snoop in her mother's room.

She wasn't sure what she'd find there, but it wasn't much of anything. At least, nothing quantifiable.

The bed didn't seem slept in, but maybe her mom was just awesome at making the bed. It was really cold where she lay, but maybe she liked to sleep with a window open. The pillow smelled faintly of death, but mostly of her mother's favorite perfume, and Veronica wasn't sure if maybe the perfume itself just smelled like carrion.

Snooping in the kitchen was much more satisfying.

She high-tailed it to her mother's special wine that she always drank. Now that the idea was in her mind, the wine did seem more congealed than Veronica knew wine was. The kraft was sitting right in the open. Her mother probably never thought it would be an issue.

As Veronica poured it into a glass and swilled it around, she did recognize a weird consistency that was not usual for wine. And it was much darker, almost black. Even really dark wines were transparent when tilted, right?

To be sure, Veronica poured a glass of normal wine that she had stored in her underwear drawer. It was something a friend from New York had given her before she'd left.

Yeah, this wine was weird. Too dark, too gloopy.

A quick Google search told her wine was not supposed to be this way, even bad wine. Bad wine just tasted like vinegar, it didn't goop up like this.

Tentatively, Veronica took a sip of her mother's wine.

It was an acrid, gross taste. Similar to how Veronica always remembered it. Usually, the taste was so off-putting that she wasn't inclined to try more. But she persevered and gritted her teeth, sipping it slowly, sucking it through her teeth.

Her mother must be putting something in there to mask the smell and taste, but underneath it…it was there.

An unmistakable coppery tang settled on the back of her throat and made her gag.

There were no true logical explanations as to why her mother was drinking blood, other than the stranger-than-fiction answer.

She carefully put the bottle back exactly where she'd found it.

Next, Veronica took out all the old photo albums. She spread pictures of her mother all over the living room floor. Her father too. Any pictures she could find of them, she put them in chronological order.

She knew her parents looked good for their age, but she'd always assumed that was a byproduct of being rich. Plenty of her big-city friend's parents were equally youthful-looking. It wasn't supernatural; it was just botox and expensive skin creams.

And while that was true of her parents on some level, there was also something off underneath it.

There was a difference between aging well and looking like you were still in your 20s, something Veronica had never really considered until now.

The absolutely hilarious, in a morbid horrifying way, was Veronica could pretty much chart the moment her parents died and became vampires if that's how it worked at all.

Their senior prom photos were bright-eyed and youthful. They had color in their cheeks and seemed full of life. She knew her parents were high-school sweethearts, and they seemed happy, almost carefree here.

She relived their story through college. And it seemed like normal, average, human, and life-filled pictures.

Then, there was a shift once her mother began pregnant with Veronica, close to the end of college. Her father went from a young man with rosy cheeks to a cold, almost imposing figure in the photos. His eyes were dimmed, his skin was smooth and chilled, and there wasn't the same feeling of nature in him anymore. There was still emotion, like the picture of her daddy holding her in the hospital, but there wasn't the sort of life in his figure that there had been before.

And then, when Veronica was a few months old, her mother's photos changed too.

It wasn't just photoshopping or good foundation or a lack of time spent in the sun. It was color draining from their skin, blood disappearing, eyes flickering out.

A sort of icy chill crept up upon Veronica, closing her throat.

"My parents are vampires," She whispered out loud, ready for it to sound so incredibly fake that she'd laugh, but instead, there was a humming, a nod, as a long-known truth found words.

Yes, she'd always known something was off, but of course, found reasons to ignore it. To laugh at her own misgivings. To pretend like her parents were still…alive. Or that they'd aged at all since having her in their mid-twenties.

So she had the truth.

Now…now what?

XXX

She avoided her mother when she returned home all day, citing a cold. Her mother wanted to give her one of her 'amazing revitalizing pills', but the thought of taking one made Veronica want to vomit. She claimed it was stress from school and then promptly closed the door before her mother sensed something was wrong. She hoped her mother assumed it was just teenage moodiness and would leave Veronica to her grouching.

She fell asleep uneasily that night. Her brain was like a broken TV screen, rewatching every interaction she ever had with her parents, trying to pick apart the moments that should have told her what they were so much earlier. Veronica felt so stupid for not realizing sooner; for not seeing what was right beneath her nose this entire time!

When she did fall asleep, she dreamed.

Or, at least, she first thought it was a dream.

She was back in New York, hanging out with Nicky. But it's like she was watching from behind, having an out-of-body experience. The glass around the scene was fuzzy, like tinted glass, but Veronica recognized the moment. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it wasn't just an amalgamation of different events rolled into one.

This was a memory.

But there was something off about it, something strange.

Veronica pounded on the glass until cracks appeared, and then continued pounding until it shattered.

As soon as she broke through, she was pulled back into her own body, and the memory played out, not how she recalled it, but obviously as it had actually happened.

She was curled up against Nick. Her dress was slipping down her shoulders. Nothing obscene, but with less care than she thought she'd give. All of her hair was pushed to one side and she could feel the slightest twinge of pain at the base of her neck, where her collarbone sat.

She turned to see Nick's mouth on her throat. Not the sort of 'leave a hickey' open-mouthed kiss, as she'd originally recalled the memory as, but something more sinister and seemingly imaginary, if not for the fact that she knew it to be real now. She could feel how he sucked on her, how her blood moved, and how she didn't seem bothered by it all that, that he was too a vampire, and he was drinking her blood.

When he pulled back, his lips were stained and his eyes were dark.

"Feeling okay, lover?" He asked. Veronica winced.

"A bit weak."

"I'm sorry, luv, you're blood is so…addicting. Here." He used a knife to cut his wrist and offer it to her. She reached for it and drank. She expected his blood to taste like blood; something cloying and tinged with pennies. And that penny taste was present, but it was also sweet, like syrup.

As she drank, she felt immediately better. Her head was clear, her throat didn't hurt, and she felt…for a moment…entirely invincible.

"People would die for that feeling," Veronica laughed and wiped her own lips.

"Now you get why vampires enjoy human blood so much," Nick said, kissing her forehead, "Why don't you call down to the bar? I have to go and talk with a fairy outside who needs me quite urgently. I'll be back soon."

"Good luck, Nicky," Veronica said with a laugh, reaching for her phone to ring below, as casual as ever. Before he left, he looked her very pointedly in the eyes, and she could feel the memories fading away…away…into nothing.

Veronica woke with a start, her heart thudding.

She remembered now. And not just this one incident, but thousand of interactions very similar. Her and Nick having fun. A sort of…'I scratch your back, you scratch mine' sort of relationship, something that didn't strike her as uncomfortably as her parent's lies.

But there was one clear truth; Nick was also a vampire, and now, Veronica was questioning nearly everything she knew.

XX

"Sure you don't want to come with, Archie?" Fred asked for what Archie would have guessed was the millionth time, "I can call your teachers and I'm sure they'll understand. We can have some fun while we're three too; Mom knows the coolest spots in Chicago. You've seen her postcards." Fred pressed.

"I would dad…any other weekend, I would…" Archie stared at his hands, "But…"

"It's Jughead's birthday weekend." Fred sighed, "You are a truly good friend. In case you forget that." Fred said, pulling Archie into a hug.

Archie told his dad everything. And he hadn't been sure what would come of telling his father about his 'visions', especially since Sweet Pea had sorta answered that one for him. And he'd been all prepared to just tell his dad it was some big practical joke, he was fine, but yesterday morning, his father had dropped a bombshell on him.

"You're dealing with something I will never understand. But your mom will. She knows more than I do," Fred said, dancing around the words that maybe he didn't understand enough to speak out loud, "And I'm going to go get her."

"About my…visions?" Archie had asked.

"Yes, those," Fred sighed, "At the end of our relationship, she was having them really bad. And she was trying to explain something to me. I didn't want to understand it then, but now with you…I need to. Whatever it is." He had said. And the offer had been extended for Archie to come, and well, Archie had thought about it.

And he would have, it not for his loyalty to his best friend.

"If the visions get worse…call me," Fred demanded. Archie didn't know how to explain that they'd already gotten worse. But also better. Now that he knew he wasn't crazy, at least, his brain had made peace with it. Sure, he was seeing it more commonly now, but at least he didn't feel like he was trapped in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

So, Archie just gave a dry smile, "Sure thing, dad."

XX

Sweet Pea wasn't sure when Jughead had switched his mail to come to the trailer, or why a teenager had any mail coming to him at all, but it had happened. But since Jughead was now splitting his time with Archie and here, sometimes he asked Sweet Pea to be his little ferryer and bring it to school.

Today was not one of those days, but Sweet Pea had ordered a super awesome video game a bit back to celebrate his birthday (coming up in just about a week), so Sweet Pea was anxiously checking the mailbox every day.

It was through this that he found out that he and The Boy Grouch shared a birthday month.

The mail he got today wasn't anything to get excited about at first. It certainly was not his new video game.

There were a few coupons for the new Chinese place across the tracks. Sweet Pea clipped those to the fridge with a wolf magnet that Toni had gotten everyone on a trip to New Mexico. There was a bill, which he set on a table to bring to FP's. Some spam went straight into the trash.

He would have thrown away Jughead's birthday mail too, had it not said 'Happy Birthday!' in big letters across the front, and Sweet Pea assumed it was for him, some little 'gift' from a company, like a free chalupa or coffee or something.

But it wasn't for him. It was from the Writer's Collation of America and it was for Jughead, postmarked for a birthdate of October 2nd, which was coming up in no short amount of time.

He tucked this information into the back of his mind and went off his way to school.

At the lockers, he slid up to Betty.

"So what are you getting Jughead for his birthday? I don't want to be an ass and get nothing, but we gotta coordinate gifts, right?" Secretly, he was saying this with the hopes that Betty would also get him, Sweet Pea, something. He knew that she knew when his birthday was, as they'd had a long conversation about birthdays and magic previous to this.

Betty looked at him with absolute confusion.

"What?"

"Jughead's birthday. On the second. Must be turning, what? Sixteen? That's a big deal and-holy shit. You don't know your boyfriend's birthday?" Sweet Pea asked, not sure if he was amused by this or sorry for her, or angry at Jughead for keeping something from her that would make her feel shitty when she found out.

"I…we've had other things to talk about." Betty's cheeks were bright red.

"You mean you've been making out most of the time instead of talking," Sweet Pea barked out laughter.

"No!"

The bell rang.

"Suuureee Cooper," He said, winking, "Look, I'm sure as heck not judging you!"

He happened to have Jughead in his first-hour class. As soon as the teacher was writing on the board, Sweet Pea poked Jughead's back.

"Psst! Happy early birthday, roomie," Sweet Pea hissed, throwing the leaflets over Jugehad's shoulder.

"Oh, great god. I didn't want anyone to know."

Sweet Pea bit his tongue to keep from saying, "Yeah, apparently, including your girlfriend." Instead, he said:

"Why didn't you let me know? We could have planned something, but we're tight on time now, amigo."

"It's not missing out on anything. I barely acknowledge my own birthday."

"Totally lame." Sweet Pea huffed, "You're such a stick-in-the-mud."

"Yeah," Jughead carefully folded the birthday advert and stuck it in his canvas bag, "I've been told that."

XX

Veronica, who was still in a very bad mood post-dream awakening, had managed to miss school. It wasn't as hard as yesterday, she'd just 'announced' she was sick and would not be going. And her mother, clearly very confused with the behavior, had just…let her.

She figured out why, though, at around 9 am that morning.

"Dear, put some clothes on and come into the living room. It will only take a moment."

Veronica grumpily put on something more than the silk nightgown she was currently sporting. She stomped out to find a man she recognized faintly sitting with her mother.

"This is Paul Sowerberry, your father's attorney. He's here to prep us for our statements and helps at your dad's hearing. Veronica is feeling a bit under the weather, but should still be able to do this." Hermione aimed her comment toward Paul at the end.

Veronica laughed, "Except, I told you, Mom. I'm not giving one." She'd been feeling guilty about it before, but now? Ha, fat chance! Who knew what sort of terror her parents had reigned upon people with their vampirism? None of the vampire stories Hermione had ever read were without the magical folk hurting humans and Veronica was sure her parents weren't the exception.

"Veronica-,"

"It wouldn't be one you'd want, but fine, try to force me. Try to make me." Veronica gave an innocent-like smile.

"You won't be asked any questions about your father's business arrangements," Paul spoke up, as though this was the issue, "Just his character. It will humanize him."

Veronica was unsure if Paul knew who his clients were or not. Either way, his wording had Veronica doubling over laughing.

"Oh, that's fantastic, Paul," Veronica said, "Humanize. Yeah…I think he's long past the point of being human."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked after a careful moment of silence, scrutinizing her daughter.

Did Veronica want her mother to know that she knew? After a moment of consideration, she decided no. She didn't want to lose this trump card quite yet. So, she sobered and shrugged.

"Daddy has hurt a lot of people. He's made his bed. I'm not sure there's anything I could say that would change that." Veronica said. She saw her mother's soldiers visibly relax, "I'm feeling nauseous. You'll have to excuse me. Good luck, though. My mom will need lots of that."