Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Prologue

The graduation party had been in full swing when my mum came to get me that night. She had to. I was in no shape to drive as I struggled to keep my balance and clambered into her red Volkswagen ungracefully. She met my flitting stare in the rear-view mirror, looking at me in that disapproving way only parents could, even when you were no longer a minor and I closed my eyes, rolling my fingers over my already aching temples.

It had started to drizzle, pitter-pattering on the car and the window felt deliciously cool against my heated forehead. I'm not sure exactly what happened. I don't know, but one moment I was sitting in the back of our Volkswagen and the next the synthetic textile material I was gripping at smoothed out into cool leather. The drunken haze I'd been feeling that evening had receded ever so slightly and I bolted upright. The warm skin tone of my hand and the pink sweatshirt I hadn't been wearing before were the first clues something was wrong. The fact that my dyed red hair had turned a dark brown (a shade darker than my original colour) was the second. I froze, fingers tightening so tightly around the seatbelt my knuckles turned white. I was in a car, definitely not my mum's and my eyes widened, headache forgotten.

I carefully peeked outside the window. The quickly moving-by line of trees and the rain pounding down around me gave away nothing, and as unsuspiciously as I took a glance at the man in the driver's seat and the woman in the passenger's seat. I glanced at their joined hands over the gear shift and my breathing sped up. Had I been kidnapped? Had I been so drunk, I hadn't even noticed someone taking me from my mum's car? I mean, I did have several cups of spiked punch, but I was pretty sure I would have noticed so—

Where the fuck was I and how had I gotten there? My mind came up blank.

Blinking rapidly, because perhaps this was just a dream, I finally squeezed my eyes closed, counting to ten before opening them again and pinched my upper arm. The car, the sudden rain, the two people; they were the same and the spot on my arm ached angrily. At least, I suddenly realised why the two people looked so familiar, right as the bridge appeared in the distance. The dim light of the car gave it an ominous glow and somehow it was that moment that I remembered a very similar one, right before a white car rammed the guardrail and I watched Elena Gilbert's panicked face staring back at me when I caught my reflection in the rear-view mirror. Holy fuck.

Holy Flying Fuck!

"No!" I shrieked, flailing my arms around so violently the man hit the brakes. The car squealed and swerved on the road because fuck that bridge! I couldn't— we couldn't cross over that bridge. I'd been in a car accident once before, not a bad one, but an accident all the same. I had my driver's licence for two, perhaps three months, when I suddenly had to hit the brakes. I reacted prematurely, the woman behind me didn't. Her car slammed into mine, giving me a serious crick in the neck and practically murdering the bumper of my dad's car. It wasn't too bad, but I certainly had been frightened. I could only imagine the horror of a free-fall and almost drowning in the process. I couldn't, "Oh my God— Stop! Let me out!"

"Elena?"

The car rolled to a stop, my head slammed into the car window and I kicked out, panicked and short of breath. "No. NO. NOOO!" I gasped, for a moment struggling with the seatbelt before unlocking the door. I fell face first, crawled away until I felt the blades of grass from the roadside and heaved violently. The putrid smell of vodka (which I hadn't had that night) met my nose and I dry heaved for several seconds before burying my hands in my hair, rocking on the balls of my feet, face pressed against my knees. This couldn't be real. My nose was running, and my eyes were burning, and I felt like I was choking. The rain was thundering down on my back and water was seeping into my sneakers (well, actually not mine, nothing about this body was mine) and— oh God, I was truly starting to panic.

"Jesus, Elena, how much did you drink?" The man asked as I made a low pitiful sound.

"Sweetie?" The woman asked, crouching down beside me, running her fingers through my hair.

"No," I gasped, "no, I—" I continued. I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

"Did you fight with Matt?" The woman asked, gently sweeping my hair over my shoulder.

"I—" I gasped and wiped my eyes with my sleeve and took a stuttering breath.

"Oh, honey!" She whispered as if somehow my panicked silence was affirmative enough, and her arms wrapped tightly around me. I certainly hadn't expected that and froze. I fucking froze, because this really couldn't be happening. Because if it was, I was fucked. Brutally, horribly fucked. Because, if it was, everything that could go wrong would go wrong. Elena Gilbert was the doppelgänger in the Vampire Diaries. I hadn't watched the series after season four, but even without following all the episodes after that, I owned a computer and had seen enough spoilers on YouTube to know that even after season four, Elena's life remained shitty right until the very end of season eight.

The woman, Miranda I thought, was still talking to me and I knew I should listen, I should pay attention, but a full-blown panic attack started to hook its claws into me and my breathing turned shallow and uneven. She seemed blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil and I had to force the tears away, blinking repeatedly until I managed to stop crying hysterically (I was still sniffing and tears were still trailing down my cheeks, but I would call it progress). I looked up again and fell to my knees. Elena's father had settled on my other side and I had the distinct impression Elena's mother had given him a look to stop him questioning his extremely upset daughter.

"Honey?" He asked and I stared at his not-unkind face. A face that I remembered in the haze of water, mouthing 'I love you' at Elena Gilbert when they were drowning. When they were supposed to drown before Stefan swam by and saved Elena. But— well, I had fucked that up. Although, honestly, I thought that was a plus at least. I pinched myself again.

"Are you alright?" An aching familiar voice asked, and I flinched so violently, Elena's dad whirled around. I watched him, wide-eyed and probably white-faced, over the shoulder of Elena's father. Stefan Salvatore, in real life, in a way I'd never seen him before, stood there. He was handsome, even with the deep lines etched into his forehead and he was looking at me as if he'd seen a ghost. He probably felt that way. Probably, was now reminiscing about forgotten times and I felt my lip tremble. His leather jacket was drenched and his hair clinging to his face. He looked soaked to the skin, but he wasn't shivering. Vampires didn't get cold. I wasn't sure why I remembered that now and I vaguely recalled he had been hunting on the show when Elena and her parents had the accident. However, I couldn't know that. I couldn't know any of that and I ground my teeth together. I had liked watching the show from the comfort of my bedroom, but— living it, or rather fucking it up. No— Hell no! No way in hell! No Fucking Way!

"Oh, yes, we're fine," Miranda answered, recovering the quickest. "Our daughter felt a bit sick."

Their daughter still felt sick. I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist, hoping I could hold off the next wave of nausea roiling around my stomach. It would probably be another dry-heave anyway and I scrambled to my feet, holding tightly on to Elena's father.

"Can I help?" Stefan asked, skin pallid in the light of the lanterns.

"Hell no!" I blurted, already regretting my admission, but the words fell from my lips without any consent from my brain. Perhaps Elena had drunk too much that night too (the lack of inhibitions certainly suggested so). A sharp twinge of guilt shot through my chest when his green eyes startlingly met mine, but— could anyone blame me? Elena might have fancied Stefan Salvatore, but I did not. Right now, I could only see the risks he would pose. The risks to Elena, her family and of course, with Stefan came Damon Salvatore. The narcissistic older brother who'd promised an 'eternity of misery' and who was obsessed with Elena's— my face. And because of Elena, he changed for the better but— Oh my fucking God, I was no Elena. I hadn't swooned in front of my laptop every time one of those guys appeared on screen, although I had enjoyed their romance, their story, I had been more of a fan of Caroline Forbes (well, of Caroline Forbes post-season one, I suppose). I pitied Elena; she had an extremely shitty life— but I didn't understand her infatuation with the Salvatore brothers. Stefan had so many skeletons in his closet and Damon abused everyone to get what he wanted—

"I mean, no thank you." I tried, breathing in deeply through my nose. "I'm sorry, mum, dad, I— I got spooked when I saw the wet asphalt. I felt as if we would crash— I know it's silly," I continued, forcing a small apologetic smile at Stefan.

Stefan Salvatore is a ripper— He tore limbs and heads off in the show— He could hurt me. After all, I was not sweet and warm and kind like Elena. I was— well, me. I'd been the loner girl that spent her time either streaming online, draw or spent a ridiculous time at the local library. I was an animal lover, a vegetarian and had enjoyed spending time with animals over humans since the age of twelve.

Mr Gilbert held onto me, I guess I looked as if I would fall over any second now and he directed me to the car, this time to the passenger's seat. Somehow my quivering body must have conveyed to Mr Gilbert to not drive too fast because he started the engine and drove so slowly away from the vampire.

Taking a glance in the rear-view mirror, I stared back at Stefan who hadn't moved an inch from where we left him. But the next second he was gone. Elena's parents didn't seem to have noticed. Some vampire hunters they were.

"Did you know that boy?" Miranda asked and I slowly turned to her in the backseat. We had passed Wickery Bridge, and Elena and her parents had survived. Would that endanger the storyline? I had no idea. I had no idea what to do and I inhaled deeply, almost successfully calming my frayed nerves. "Elena?"

"No," I puffed out my cheeks, "no, I— I think I did drink a bit too much. And yes, I fought with Matt. You're right, mum."

"Yeah," Miranda nodded, "it's okay honey."

It wasn't. But I couldn't say that and stared out of the window. The town was somewhat familiar as we passed through it. I'd seen enough episodes to recognise the main street with the clock tower and the dark banner of the Mystic Grill, even though the sheen of tears still clinging stubbornly to my lashes. I recognised the cemetery from the pilot scene and the high school with the large graffiti Timberwolf image.

My fingers kept drawing circles over my cheekbones, the arch of my eyebrows and finally settled them wrapped around my wrists, arms curled over my stomach. Elena's father — Grayson, right, he was called Grayson — kept stealing worried glances at me. I kept myself, my facial expression, under control until we arrived at the Gilbert house. The house Elena torched down in the fourth season. The two-story house with soaring ceilings and the porch swing and the neat lawn.

I let Miranda lead me to Elena's room and she sat me down on Elena's bed. She settled down next to me, wrapping a large, fluffy towel tightly around me.

"So, what happened between you and Matt?" She asked, running her fingers through my hair.

"Erm—" I had no idea. I knew Elena had been attending some kind of party.

"You know you can still talk to me, right?"

"Of course," I agreed and thought hard, my eyebrows furrowing together until my head started to hurt. I knew she'd argued (at the very least) with Matt Donovan, but I had no idea what exactly it was that had happened between them.

"Elena?"

"I—" I started, more tears starting to form in my eyes, and I tried to think about the show again. Tried to remember what she'd said when she was on the phone with Bonnie. I was almost sure it was Bonnie who she had been talking to just before she met Damon. Fuck, she already met Damon earlier that evening (and Stefan). Fuck. Fuck!

Miranda met my eyes and smiled gently, looking strangely as if she was dealing with a frazzled animal. "Here let me help you out of your wet clothes."

"It's fine," I mumbled.

"Elena."

Teeth digging into my lower-lip, I inhaled sharply again. I skimmed out of the wet skinny jeans that were clinging to my legs like a second skin and forced the next words out, "I—," I squeezed my eyes closed as Miranda pulled the pink shirt over my head and I tried so hard to remember. "I haven't broken up with him— yet. We — he just has everything mapped out and I don't— I don't know what I want yet."

"You're sixteen," Miranda said and I almost screamed (I wasn't, or I hadn't been fifteen minutes ago) and she wrapped a blue bathrobe around me. "You don't have to know what you want."

"I know," I mumbled back. It was solid advice too.

"But Elena, he deserves your honesty." She told me and smiled sadly. "Your honesty will set him free. Don't you think it's what he deserves?"

"Yeah." I agreed. "You're right, mum."

"Try to sleep. We'll talk about your drinking habits the morning."

"Okay," I mumbled grimacing. Talking about my drinking habits with a virtual stranger. Joy—

Miranda was right though (even if she was fictional). Matt deserved Elena's honestly. And he got it too. They broke up before the start of the pilot. I remembered the longing looks and the sad blue eyes rather vividly from the first episode and after that final bit of motherly advice, she left me (after I'd reassured her, multiple times that is, that I was fine).

Pushing the door closed behind Miranda, I slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest and inhaled sharply, muffling my sobs against my legs. For a long time, I remained there, back pressed against the door for a long time. I felt marginally better when I looked up again but worry and fear still coiled deep in my stomach. If I was Elena, then what happened to my body? Was she me? Did I even exist in this dimension? I couldn't exactly Google myself. In 2009 I was not on social media; I wasn't even sure I even had a computer back then. My parents had always been very wary of computers and smartphones and I only got those when I truly needed them for essays and papers. Besides, if I didn't exist, or if I did, how did I get myself back? What would happen if something happened to Elena Gilbert's body? What would happen if she still turned into a vampire? Technically she died to make that happen, so would that mean I would be thrown back in my own? Would I need to die? Or would I be stuck in her body for eternity?

"Fuck!"

I forced out a furious laugh and slowly got to my feet. How did I even manage to fuck up my life to such proportions? I groaned and slowly moved through the slightly familiar bedroom. Trailed my fingers over the bed, stared at the painting of a horse above the headboard of the bed and wandered to the white desk and the large vanity mirror above it. My fingers skimmed over the glass, eyes drawn to the many pictures and I took in every one of them. Elena had documented her life well. The frame was full of childhood pictures, birthday parties, dances, even one with her current — where she and Matt even still an item — and I remembered suddenly that Elena Gilbert kept a journal. Probably plural, cause hadn't she wanted to be a writer? I averted my eyes from a picture of Elena, Caroline and Bonnie. The three teenagers sat on the front porch of the Gilberts' house. Elena sat in the middle, perfect posture, perfect teeth, while Bonnie slouched against her shoulder, a small, amused smile grazing her features and Caroline on Elena's left. She had her head turned to the side, mouth curled wide in a spontaneous laugh and I ignored it. Ignored the heavy feeling that had settled in my stomach and I subtly rummaged through the rest of the room. I didn't even know where she would hide that diary.

By now, I was pretty sure none of this was just a dream because my dreams never were this detailed. Never vivid enough that I could feel the soft material of the green shawl hanging from a nail in the wall or feel the orange curtains drawn in front of one of the three large windows in the room. I returned to the other side, touched the brass doorknob of the built-in closet and moved towards the adjoined bathroom.

In the show she shared that bathroom with Jeremy and slowly, I let my fingers glide over the smooth white wall until I found the switch. The bathroom was flooded with harsh neon light a second later and I turned it off almost immediately. On the other side, door firmly closed although light flickered from the crack under the door (video games would be my best guess), would be Jeremy's bedroom. I ventured further inside, my feet growing cold on the tiled-floor and moved towards the shower, turning it on. Steam swiftly filled the bathroom, fogging the mirror and dampening the walls. The skin on Elena's tanned hands turned white, so hard was I gripping the lapels of my bathrobe. Bathing a body that wasn't mine wasn't on top of my priority list. But, even if it wasn't my body, I thought a long hot shower might make me feel better.

I pulled a towel from the bar, dropped it over the sink and moved into Elena's bedroom again, going on a hunt for the pair of pyjama's Elena must have worn previous nights (or any pyjamas at all). Beneath her pillows, I found a white camisole and blue baby shorts and I cringed inwardly. A tad revealing, but I supposed it would have to do. It was better than nothing and I dropped them beside the towel once I'd located a clean pair of undies.

Stepping beneath the yet of water, I turned the heat up until it was almost scalding me, but I ignored the pink hue quickly overtaking my skin. It was as hot as I could take it without blistering me and I leaned in against the steaming droplets thumping down my back. I didn't look at her private parts, feeling that at least I could try and preserve her modesty, when I tipped the body soap bottle over my arms and tried to relax against the wall. I wriggled my toes— I don't know why, because I could? And massaged shampoo into my hair, watching the last of the mud and grime disappear down the drain, leaving a light brown swirl down the drain. My fingers curled through her long tresses gently touched over the tender lump, which felt like a hard-boiled egg, I must have gotten from hitting my head against the car window and finally, stepped out of the shower. I dried, dressed, wrapped a towel around my hair and back-pedalled out and into Elena's room quickly (it was just my luck to run into Jeremy and muck that up as well), and curled up in the window seat, not feeling comfortable snuggling in someone else's bed. Not feeling comfortable with this situation at all.

Perhaps all of this would be gone when I woke up again …

Somehow, I seriously doubted it.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter One, Deja Vu

After waking up in this world, I spent almost a week cooped up at Elena's home, before I was finally convinced this — whatever this was — was not a dream but my new twisted reality. I'd needed almost a week of psychological battle with myself to admit nothing would change. That, yes, I was stuck in a television show. Stuck in Elena's Gilbert's body.

Worse, no one seemed to realise I wasn't their Elena. That I wasn't Grayson's and Miranda's adoptive daughter or Jeremy's adoptive sister (cousin really). And honestly, I had no intention of telling them either. Even in this world where the supernatural roamed free, body snatching was a bit of a stretch. I doubted it would go over well and had no desire to be admitted into a hospital.

As for not giving away, I was someone else, I'd gone to ignoring every one of Elena's friends and her boyfriend, or should I say, ex-boyfriend. They thought I had a really bad case of the flue (while Grayson thought I was on the verge of a hefty depression or a break-down; he wasn't that far off with the latter) and I managed to keep every concerned face at a distance.

Miranda checked up on me every night, even once when I had finally managed to relax taking a bath, but at least they seemed content I wasn't planning on trying to slit my wrists with a razor or trying to drown myself for that matter. I had considered slapping myself and pinching myself until I would wake up from this bizarrely vivid dream, but— well that hadn't done much good.

Every morning for the past week, I woke up, hoping to see my small bedroom with the two indoor closets, the small rickety desk and the single bed I was most familiar with, yet instead, the room remained the way it was on the television show. The painting above the bed, the white desk next to the window the rocking chair with the teddy bear Damon would toy with, the indoor closet with clothes I'd never owned before—

Every morning, I woke up disappointed. Yes, the series had been entertaining. But that didn't mean I wanted to be the one living this life. That didn't mean I wanted to date two vampires who were obsessed with Elena Gilbert. Whose obsession was so strong no one else mattered. I didn't want to be in the middle of a war between the Salvatore brothers and whoever had the audacity to come in between. But then again, the full-blown obsession might not come to fruition, since I had no, absolutely no, intention of dating either one of them. Although, I might have to put up with their stalking.

I breathed out harshly, wiping the back of my hand along my damp forehead. The heat of the day had forced me out of the bedroom and into the backyard. Miranda and Grayson were quite happy that I'd left my stuffy room (the sweltering heat gave me little choice), dressed in a bright white two-piece, dug out from the back of a drawer, and stretched out on a bright blue Adirondack chair in the Gilberts' backyard. I hoped it would give them rest of mind that no, I wasn't going to jump off the roof or stand in front of a moving bus.

I certainly wasn't planning on killing me, because well, it was doubtful that would solve my current problem. Honestly, I wasn't that suicidal. At least, I wasn't yet.

Rolling over to my side, I stared at Elena's old-fashioned BlackBerry and tapped the screen. I had found her cell phone, wet but surprisingly functional after two days in a bowl with rice, but that had told me little about the old Elena beside being a party girl.

I had found her journal and learned about the things she liked, the blogs she followed and the people she enjoyed or not enjoyed. I learned about her aggravation with Caroline's jealousy, her adoration of Bonnie and her motherly antics. However, besides the people that had been regularly featured in the series, I had no idea who half of them were. I vaguely recalled the Dana Elena wrote about, who was dating Chad and was apparently very much into public displays of affection, but I had no idea who Kiki was supposed to be or why she and Bonnie had some kind of rivalry going on.

Drawing my leg up I fingered the sunglasses, pushing them further up the bridge of my nose and dared a fleeting glance at the house. The first day after getting stuck into this body, I had snooped through the house, had rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and peered around the living room. I wasn't even sure what I hoped to find, but I certainly hadn't found it.

The following days, I'd expanded my search and by now was quite sure where everything was. I knew how the coffeemaker worked and had figured out how to work the television and the DVD-player, but I had learned little, if absolutely nothing, about how to fix my situation. The one positive thing I'd found was a sprig of Vervain. I could have cried when I noticed the purple plant in the back of a drawer in Grayson Gilbert's office and had stuffed it in a silver medallion I'd found in Elena's jewellery box and wore it as a beacon to ward off any vampires. I knew I would need it. Doppelgänger, vampire-magnet and all-around endangered species Elena Gilbert needed it.

Breathing out loudly, I curled and uncurled my toes, carting the long, dark, damp hair out of my face. The sun was bright above me, but at least, my face was slightly hidden in the shade from the surrounding trees and I blinked, resting my right hand on my stomach. The skin was warm from the sun and still a shade darker than mine used to be, but no less protected against sunburn, if the painful heat was any indication. I sat up slowly, upending a bottle of suntan on my awaiting palm and massaged the milky liquid into my skin, peering at the house.

Jenna Sommers (Aunt Jenna) stood in the kitchen by the window, her eyes flickering my way every so now and then and I puckered my lips in irritation. Miranda and Grayson had gone grocery shopping (thank the Gods they'd finally left me alone for a change), while Jenna was supposed to look after me. Or as she said, to hang with me.

She certainly wasn't trying to hang with Jeremy who had locked himself up in his room to— well, what fourteen-year-old boys did alone in their room. I grimaced at the memory of realising what fourteen-year-old boys did in bathrooms when unsuspecting older sisters wandered in to use the loo. I don't know for whom that had been more embarrassing, but since then, I knocked three times or made a lot of noise whenever I neared the bathroom door.

"Want something to drink, kid?" Jenna asked. I hadn't even noticed her coming outside and I flinched awkwardly. She was standing beside me, rolling on the balls of her feet and I peered at her over the rim of my sunglasses. In the series, Elena had loved Aunt Jenna. The cool aunt who was both as much a big sister as she was a friend and I— I had no idea how to act around her.

"Aunt Jenna," I whispered, then flushed, embarrassed I was staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Oh, something to drink? Yeah, sure."

"You're really feeling a bit out of it, aren't you?" She asked, settling on the edge of my chair and ran a hand through the thick straight hair I'd pulled up in a high ponytail. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know."

"If something happened during the party…"

"No, it's— I can't really explain," I replied, laughing nervously. Did she think I was—

"You know, that right?"

"I'm really okay, though, Jenna."

"Okay," she smiled, tucking a lock of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear, "just remember, you can talk to me about this."

"I will," I replied, and my smile became a tad more genuine.

Sweat was beginning to slide down the nape of my neck, settling between my collarbones. The air was hazy with humidity and the sun burned down on my skin. I pushed the matching white sunglasses up more comfortably and stared at the sky. Dappled flecks of sunlight were streaming in through the trees at the side, shading the right side of my face and I crossed my legs at the ankles, settling back comfortably in the chair. The sudden heatwave had come so quickly it had taken everyone by surprise, the sun so hot, it was blurry around the edges when you tried looking at it.

"Here you go." Jenna grinned offering me a cold glass of lemonade.

"Thanks."

"So, how is your school sickness fairing?"

I snorted, "Wonderful. It's still going strong."

"You did find great weather for a week off, I give you that," Jenna said and I smiled, figuring she would understand.

Jenna Sommers had been a drug user. I remembered her telling Jeremy once she could eat her weight in nachos with guacamole after using, so how far of a stretch would it be if she skipped school so now and then.

School— High school, I thought Elena was starting Junior year in September— how horrendous. I probably should have gone off to classes, but honestly, what was the point? I had gone through high school already. Had graduated, and although I supposed some tests would still be difficult (I wasn't a star at calculus or science), it shouldn't be impossible, right? Then again, who knew what was different in this fictional world? Perhaps, the laws of gravity were entirely different (the laws of fiction and non-fiction certainly were) or the wars fought before hadn't been fought in this. I should probably start Googling local history if I wanted to fit in more.

"Elena?"

"Hm?"

"The weather? How great it was while you had your week off?" She repeated.

"Right, yeah, the weather certainly was a bonus point," I mumbled, and Jenna laughed heartily.

"And all because of a boy, Elena?"

"Hm," I retorted. At least, she didn't seem to think someone had forced himself on me anymore.

"Perhaps we can go into town later?"

"Hm?" I sat up again. Going into town— perhaps not the worst idea. If I was to live as Elena Gilbert, if it was or wasn't temporary, I didn't know, but if I was to live like her, I should know how to navigate through this town. I should know where the closest supermarket was or how I could get from this house to the local high school. Sophomore year hadn't finished yet and I supposed I owed it to Elena to keep notes of her classes and not disrupt her personal life when I was at it. "I— yes, I guess I would like that." Blowing my hair out of my face, tousled and wild from the humid weather and sweat, I grinned. "I would really like that."

"Look at that. She is excited."

"Very."

"Good." She grinned. "After dinner. We call it a date."

I laughed genuinely at that and nodded before frowning. "Do you think you can drop me off at Matt Donovan's house?"

"Sure. Does Kelly still live at Harrison Street?"

"Erm," I had no idea. I hoped so. "Yes."

"Going to break up with him?"

"It would be the fairest thing I could do."

Jenna nodded at that. "Yes, if you don't love him, it would."

The sky was flush in pastel pinks and violets, gradually settling into molten gold as the sun sank beneath the treetops. It was going to be an unusually hot evening, the sticky heat lingering outside and permeating the air inside.

Miranda and Grayson Gilbert didn't seem to mind when they returned (their shopping having taken unusually long, and I wondered if they had some kind of secret council meeting too). I helped to unload the groceries in the kitchen, forcefully relaxing my muscles when Grayson jokingly pushed me. He meant no harm, I knew that, but after a short week with unknown people, I was still a bit wary.

"Jenna and I wanted to go into town tonight," I said, storing the box of cereal in the cabinet closest to the fridge. "Is that all right? I think it would be good for me."

"Of course," Miranda answered, looking as pleased as a child.

"Be back by ten." Grayson agreed and turned to Jenna. "We want normality back—"

"Not the party girls, yeah, Gray, I know." Jenna cajoled and beckoned me along. "Come on, Elena."

"Girls night?" I asked jokingly and she grinned. She really wasn't fit being someone's guardian.

"You got it."

She grinned in that carefree way of hers and I was extraordinary thankful for her presence then, following her outside. Her red Mini Cooper smelled heavily of pod and I must have scrunched up my nose for she gave me a mischievous smile.

"Smoke a lot of pot?" I asked and shifted in my seat, picking up what looked like a nacho.

"Hm, hm," she agreed, and I waved the triangles shaped chip through the air.

"I love nachos." She admitted finally and backed the car out of the Gilberts' driveway. "Especially when I'm high. Did you know I could eat my complete bodyweight in school when I was high?"

I snorted, "I know now."

"Yeah," she smiled, "but with my thesis looming— little time."

"Right. How far are you now?"

"I'm writing a proposal. It's difficult."

"Hm," I agreed, "wait until you're writing the actual thing. Advisors are bitches."

"Oh, are they now?" Jenna returned amused and I nodded. I would know.

"Yes," I agreed seriously, my eyes long since averted from the road, "Especially once they want you to change something and then when you do they bitch about it again and want you to change it back. Writing a thesis is the worst."

"You sound like you know about it."

I realised my mistake then and shrugged. "People talk."

"Well, you're not wrong." She agreed, gearing the car up the sidewalk and smiled. "There we are."

"Yeah, thanks," I mumbled. I was seriously regretting this now and twisted my fingers the hem of my summer dress, feet nervously twitching.

The Donovan house was close to the road, their lawn was overgrown with creepers and their grass too tall. The roof was nearly as green as the grass and beneath an adjoined carport Matt's truck was parked, looking exactly as I remembered. Old and rusty. I felt my breath quicken and I must have made a sound since Jenna reached forward, taking my hand in hers and squeezed it.

She must have noticed the trepidation on my face and her smile was wide and sympathetic, "Hey, you'll be fine."

"He'll hate h—me."

"Remember what Miranda said, you'll be setting him free."

"I'll hurt him."

"Elena."

I nodded, inhaled deeply and threw the door open: "Okay. Thank you for driving me."

I slammed the car door behind me and crossed my arms beneath my breasts, inhaling deeply. My comfortable sneakers crunched briskly across the cobblestones towards Matt's home and my heart started to beat faster the closer to the front door I came. Perhaps he'd seen me coming, perhaps he'd even been expecting me. Was I following the script? Was I already acting exactly as Elena would have? I didn't think so, but I wondered all the same. Either way, when I lifted my hand to knock, the door flew open.

Matt Donavan hovered against the doorframe, a strained smile on his face. He looked younger than I remembered from the show and yanking at a loose thread on the summer dress I'd quickly put on, I tried to give him a small comforting smile (pretty sure I failed at doing that).

"Hi, Matt—" I started awkwardly, and his face fell. I regretted my choice immediately and wondered if turning around and running away was an option. It wasn't was it?

"Elena?"

"Hi—" I echoed again and tightly twirled a lock of hair around my index finger, "We need to talk."

"Oh," he mumbled, stepping further outside and gazing through the street, looking pallid, "sure."

We sat down on the grass, just out of sight of Jenna's car and I wrapped my arms tightly around my knees. It was familiar and at the same time disturbingly foreign. I'd seen their awkward behaviour in the series, I'd watched Matt Donovan stare after Elena and care for her, and yet, now he was looking at me like that. I might look like her, but I wasn't.

"So—"

"I feel like you know…"

"Please, Elena, I still believe in us." He whispered.

His right hand moved and gently cupped my jaw and my stomach twisted. I was about to break his heart and it wasn't actually my fault. I breathed in harshly and gently curled my hand over his.

"I care for you," I started, smiling sadly, "I do, I love you. You know that, but I need some time. Perhaps a lot of time. Time to figure out in what way I really love you."

He looked so hurt I almost backtracked on my words, almost told him I did love him, and this was all some flux, but— I couldn't. First, I didn't know this boy, nor did I have the history with him Elena obviously had. Second, it would be morally wrong to continue a relationship with someone who thought I was someone else. In a way, I figured that was similar to compelling someone to love you like the vampires in the show so often did. It was wrong and although I was no saint, I would never do that.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered pursing my lips, "I just couldn't lie to you. It wouldn't be fair."

"It's okay, Elena." He muttered.

I didn't think it was, but I carefully placed a hand on his shoulder and, acting on instinct, hugged him. He held on to my tightly his breathing hard and heavy and when I let go of him, his eyes had suspiciously reddened and another stab of guilt ran down my spine. I decided not to mention it, couldn't mention it. His eyes flickered to my lips and I smiled tightly pressing my hand against his cheek, making sure he could not move in if the mood would strike him. I shouldn't have worried, he jerked up to his feet, holding out his hands to pull me up as well. He was a good guy like that.

"I should probably go." I smiled tightly again. "Jenna is waiting. See you at school?"

"You're coming back this Monday?"

"Yes." I agreed, for until I figured out what I should do about this situation, I had nothing else to do.

It was the first a real smile blossomed on his face: "Okay. Yes, I'd like that."

I returned the smile. I think, even if he didn't want to accept it yet, his relationship with Elena was over. I might have only asked for some time, but Matt wasn't stupid. I could tell he knew what I was really asking. I knew he did, even if his mind wasn't completely understanding the implications yet.

"Bye Matt."

I turned to the car quickly, using every bit of willpower to stop myself from running, but couldn't quite stop myself from diving onto the passenger's seat, bucking my belt in and giving Jenna a wide-eyed glance. She started the car without a word and steered it away from the Donovan house. I breathed out a grateful sigh…

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Two, From the Shadows

'Stalking is where two people go on a long, romantic walk together, but only one of them knows about it.'

May 31, 2009

This is me writing to you. Well, not the me you know, but it will have to suffice. I'm writing to you because— Well, not because Miranda is starting to get suspicious, of course. Extremely suspicious. Fine, yes, that's the only reason I am, but, I suppose, these entries could be useful when the situation is reversed again. If it can be reversed again— I'm not sure it can, nothing has changed so far. Tomorrow, I'll have school. The last three days of Sophomore year I've been told (I hope I'll do you justice) and I don't think I have to put into words how much I am not looking forward to that.

Of course, I didn't look forward writing into a diary either, so I suppose that conveys how much I have a say in all of this. As for your problems with Matt: I fixed that for you. You're welcome. And— your mum is looking at me again. I was planning to find something else to do, but her face makes me think that would be suspicious. Apparently thoroughly documenting my life is a thing I should be into. Just, I wasn't. I've never been into it.

Also, I can't really write my details here (what if someone else reads it) so I hope you'll forgive me for keeping my personal details to myself. It might please you to know that I've been practising cheerleading. I thank the heavens for being in good shape and a regular jogger. I also thank the heavens for doing several school sports, but I really hope your muscle memory is better than I've been giving it credit for the last few days. Oh, and if you return into your body, keep a wide berth from Stefan and Damon Salvatore. They might look cute and nice— They. Are. Not.

Staring at the diary entry, at my neat, even block letters I gave out an irritated sigh and snapped it closed. It was vague at best and utterly ridiculous at worst, but— I honestly didn't care. Stuffing it in my bag, between two reasonably thick textbooks, I shouldered my rucksack. Miranda was leaning on the kitchen island, brown eyes following my every move and I leaned up to her face, brushing a chaste kiss on her temple.

"See you tonight, mom."

"Aren't you a bit early?" She smiled, cradling my cheek in one hand, her thumb brushing along my cheekbone. "It's only 7:30?"

"Yeah, I know, but I promised Bonnie to meet her before school." I had done no such thing, but the real reason would sound utterly strange to her, I mean, I didn't think I could tell her I had to search for the High School. Which is why I'd gotten up so early, far too early really, but I had to, because fuck if I knew how to get to school. I had ventured into Maple street several times now, learned the neighbours' names (Marleen and Graham Gold and Juliet and Nick Heart) and had Googled the location of Mystic Falls High School. However, I still had a high chance of taking a wrong turn and getting lost, even if the village was small. A very high chance, because every fucking yard and each bloody house looked pretty much the same to me.

Miranda smiled at me (apparently having bought my excuse) when I moved off the stool and stomped outside. Jenna had told me I could borrow her car today (mostly because she thought I needed comforting and because ice cream did little to change my mood) and I languidly clambered behind the wheel of the red mini cooper.

I was right about everything looking alike. All over, the same suburban landscapes often backed up by tall trees and the impeccably manicured hedges and shiny gates, surrounded the same white houses with the beautiful porches. The ride to the school was short and my worries had been for nought. I found Washington street without much trouble and after parking at the back of the empty parking lot, beneath a large maple tree, I ventured onto the schoolyard. The double doors leading inside were still locked and with a dismayed sigh, I realised I would have to wait for them to open. I really would have liked hurrying inside and go on the hunt for Elena's locker. It was not an option.

With a frown, I settled on the green picnic table, feet propped up on the wooden bench. Sunlight covered over my face and a gentle summer breeze picked up my hair. "High school— what a bummer," I muttered under my breath, more annoyed than I wanted to be.

At least, I only had a few days of High school to get through before the summer vacation would start. I could handle a few days of school, I could definitely handle that, even if the new year would start again between late-August and early-September. Even if I had gone through High School already. Puffing out my cheeks, I clutched my jacket closer around me and peered around the empty country yard.

The last time I'd been at a high school, I'd preened myself to perfection, a dark-blue dress hugging my figure and a brilliant smile lighting up my face, accepting my diploma. And I had deserved that diploma too, having studied hard and long. It was unseasonable unfair that I had to do it all again…

"Elena!"

I still had to think twice when that name was called and slowly turned towards Bonnie Bennett. Small, probably only just reaching Elena's chin, with dark, wavy hair and a heart-shaped face. Seeing her in person was utterly weird and I gasped when she flew forward, enveloping me in a tight hug. She was positively bubbling, and I slowly wrapped mine around her waist.

"Bonnie!"

"It's so good to see you!" The dark-skinned girl grinned, and I couldn't help smiling back.

"Yeah, you too—"

"You got a tan," Bonnie grinned, poking the dark-golden brown of my arms and I flushed.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I was— I don't know a bit out of it?"

"It's fine," Bonnie grinned, linking her arm through mine.

The sun shone through broad leaves and the air was thick with pollen (which didn't cause pollinosis into Elena the way it had in me; for which I was thankful). I wondered if the weather was good enough for Elena's parents to take me and Jeremy to the Lakehouse when I was free. I hoped they would because a neat lake house near swimmable water and a fast property of forest around sounded like heaven.

"You okay?" Bonnie asked and I watched her eyes turn wide and worried.

"Matt and I broke up." I blurted byways of explanation and her eyes lit up in sympathy.

"So that's why he's not returning any of my calls."

"I had to—" I grumbled defensively.

"I'm not judging you, Elena. You're my best friend, but Matt— he is also my friend."

"I know, but— I just feel a bit—" I started and frowned, "odd."

"I'm so sorry, Elena."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. But you're allowed to sulk."

"Right, so, what did I miss?" I asked and Bonnie began a thorough account of last week's happenings.

I ummed and aahed when appropriate even though I had no idea who half of the people she spoke of were, but thank God, Bonnie didn't seem to notice, having started to talk about some Heather girl getting into a fight with Tyler Lockwood and one of his cronies (Chad?). I aahed again, but Bonnie had lost me. I followed the dark-skinned girl down the hallway and towards her locker. I kept my bag with me (having no idea where Elena's locker would be), shouldering it around all day.

The first few classes went well enough, at least they went well enough in the department of finding my classes but following them was a bit of hell. I did average in science, mucked up French (not having taken it in high school before) and managed to scrape by in Math. It wasn't like I had been bad at it. No, but my Sophomore year was four years ago, and you hardly needed to evaluate math problems during university essays (besides a few statistics, of course).

The shrill sound of the bell announcing lunch break, that followed my humble attempt at explaining a calculus problem, couldn't have been a more welcome reprieve. Besides making a fool out of me, I'd also grown really tired of pretending not to notice the longing looks Matt kept sending me, whenever he thought I wasn't looking, and once the bell sounded, I almost made a beeline for the door. Bonnie's smiling face greeting me in the central hall almost made me cry and I followed her, joined by Caroline and a whole crowd of girls I didn't know.

Several greeted me, asking me how I was feeling and another several leaned in and hugged me tightly. I accepted them — what else was I supposed to do — smiling politely and again I cursed the horror of being stuck in Miss Popularity's body.

The entire student body ventured outside, and I followed Bonnie and Caroline to the picnic tables at the back of the school. We were joined by a scruffy brunette, who sat down next to me and Caroline, grinning like a zebra. I mostly made noncommittal hums whenever someone said something to me and forced myself not to scrunch up my nose in distaste when the brunette started picking her thumbnails.

A shadow fell across the table and I looked up. Matt Donovan held two Styrofoam cups of coffee, one of which he was offering to me. "Coffee? Black, just as you like it."

"Erm, right, sure," I responded awkwardly, and Bonnie grinned from her seat across from me. Wonderful, girl intervention. Just what I did not need in this awkward new adventure, but— steeling myself I got to my feet and accepted the coffee. "Thank you."

"Can we talk?"

"Sure," I mumbled, and I noticed the not-so-subtle thumbs-up Bonnie shot Caroline. "Why not?"

"Great, we can circle the football field?"

"Sure," I echoed.

In hindsight, I should have known he wouldn't give me some space. Not really. He had little reason to do so and sucking my lower lip between my teeth I let my eyes wander over the grass field and around the bleachers. A few feet away, Tyler Lockwood, who was covered in a sheen of sweat and who puffed out in arrogance, passed a football to an equally sweaty jock. Curling my fingers around the straps of my schoolbag, I squinted against the sun and hoped the award silence would pass quickly. Matt Donovan stood across from me, his short-cropped blond hair light in the bright sunlight and his skin sunburnt.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Right. Yeah." He agreed and the awkward silence was back. Great…

"Matt—"

"I wanted you to know, I still believe in us," he blurted out and I winced.

"Matt—"

"I know, you need time. Believe me, I know." He told me, smiling sadly at me. "I just— What did I do wrong?"

I squinted up through the blazing summer sunshine at the bleachers above us and rolled my shoulders. "You didn't do anything wrong, Matt. It's not something you did. It's not that I don't love you." It was definitely that, I didn't know Matt. Not really. "It's just I've come to realise I love you as a friend. Not as a lover."

His face paled and his eyes became wide and hurt.

"The time I requested— It's just so that I would know for sure."

"But you think you do. That's what you're saying?" He asked gripping me by the shoulders.

"Just give me some time, Matt!" I gasped desperately, trying to push his hands away. My back hit the side of the bleachers and my head bobbled forward when it hit the wood of the railing. My gasp drew a startled look out of the blond, but his grip didn't let up, "Matt, you're hurting me!"

"Oh— Oh God, I'm so sorry Elena, I—" He stepped back slowly, wide-eyed and mouth a tight, grim line. "Oh— fuck, I didn't mean to. I just—"

He stepped back and I rubbed my hands harshly over bare arms, "It's— It's okay. I know you didn't mean anything with it."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I promise."

He nodded gruffly and in a ruffle of apologies, he made himself scarce. I watched him jog (or more like run) towards the school building, disappearing inside and I let out a longwinded sigh. I ate my lunch there beneath the bleachers, out of sight of Elena's friends and mostly stared at the people passing me. I should have known it wouldn't last and just as I leant back against the bleachers, my shoulders relaxing, Caroline's voice echoed over the field.

"Elena, there you are!" She grinned, twirling an impossible lock of blonde hair around her index finger. I assumed the amount of Virginia sunshine had bleached it two shades lighter. "Why are you sitting there?"

"I needed a break."

"Beneath the bleachers?" She asked her nose scrunching up in distaste and I shrugged. "Well, come on out! Classes are starting again." She admonished me lightly. I nodded, got up and followed her back inside.

I didn't really pay attention during History (probably a miracle with the latest amount of luck I had) as Mr Tanner droned on and on about the civil war, almost dropped forward and asleep during English literature (although, that class was the first I felt actually capable in) and finally I made my way to Art class. A class which was surprisingly devoid of any negative emotion. Although I showed as much promise as an artist as Caroline did at subtly, I tried either way. The result wasn't even that bad, which was in stark contrast to the rest of my classes that day and my smile was genuine when the art teacher complimented my fruit bowl. I did think I'd done rather well on it too and rolling the parchment up I left the class in a much better mood than I had at the start of the day.

The drive home went less stellar than that morning after a detour of forty minutes, I finally parked the car in Maple street. A tired breath escaped through my teeth and I shuffled towards the front porch. This was going to be a long— life? I had no idea and stumbled inside, dropping my keys into the wooden tray by the door.

I was already halfway up the stairs when my phone buzzed and slowly, I pulled the blackberry free, staring at the text message Bonnie had sent me; 'End-of-school party at the Falls this weekend'. I pursed my lips in thought. A party— that meant free booze and a beautiful reason to get wasted. Or at least, a beautiful reason to push aside my worries. Drinking too much might be bad form. Hadn't it been my drunken ass that had gotten me into this situation? I had no idea and flopped backwards onto the bed, sighing tiredly. Well, whatever, party it was—

The party started at nine, on Saturday, June the sixth. Bonnie came and picked me and Jeremy up that weekend to go to the falls, parking her light Prius into an available spot among the trees and other cars and killed the engine.

Located in the forest, near Wickery Bridge, you had to venture down a small, winding path to reach the clearing of the bonfire. Which was why I veered off between the gloved trees, on what I could barely make out as a path. I guessed that even in the daylight, the path would be hard to follow, my feet trailing along the vegetation and what not and every so often I almost tripped.

I could hear the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs before me, as well as the faint sounds of the party, which was my only real indication I was going in the right direction. That was until we reached the clearing. The bonfire was blazing high in the sky and spread around an almost oppressing warmth (and it hadn't been cold to even begin with).

"My God, it smells like a frat party around here." I dryly remarked.

Bonnie let out an amused laugh, "Of course, it does. This is basically a frat party."

My answering smile was pure sin and we ventured further into the clearing. I'd opted for a white dress that flowed loosely over Elena's curves, leaving only her toned arms and legs bare. I hadn't bothered much with her hair, allowing it to cascade freely down her back. Chattering easily, me and Bonne moved through the crowd towards the black pickup truck, upon which sat a beer keg. Beer sloshed into the red plastic cup when Bonnie pressed it in my hands. Jeremy stumbled after me, getting a cup for himself and I gave him a stern look, "Only one, Jer."

"Speak for yourself!" He remarked huffily.

"I'm sixteen Jer, you're fourteen. I'm closer to legal drinking age than you are, but if it's such a big deal for you, I promise, I'll only drink one cup as well."

"Elena—"

"Jeremy—" I moaned back, and he crossed his arm over his chest, eyebrows furrowed together.

"Fine," he grumbled and barged away.

Bonnie cocked her head to the side, "Only one?"

"I'm the oldest. I should set a good example."

"Well, he's sulking now."

"I'm sure there enough sulky teenagers around. If anything, they should get on like a house on fire."

"So evil," Bonnie dryly remarked and I followed her towards where Caroline and her hubbub of friends (or would followers be a better description) were standing.

I knew from the conversations Caroline had been Elena's friend since kindergarten. I knew they competed with each other, or at least that Caroline considered everything with Elena a competition. I just hadn't considered how much until Caroline's eyes flickered towards me, narrowed and she grumbled a half-hearted greeting. Jealously was a powerful emotion. I definitely wouldn't underestimate hers anymore.

"Any plans for summer?" I grinned lightly, ignoring the look and Heather shrugged.

"Dad said we would visit my Gran in Miami." She decided. "We don't have air conditioning there."

"Poor you," I remarked dryly, but my smile was genuine. This was just what I needed. A perfect break from the inevitable school-vampire-drama.

"I'm staying with grams," Bonnie said. "Well, I go to Cheerleading camp of course."

"Cheerleading Camp?"

"Yeah, silly," Caroline remarked drolly, "how clumsy of you to forget that."

"I didn't forget—" I shrugged, "my parents were considering going to the Lake House and visiting family friends in Denver…"

"They're not letting you come?" Caroline gasped outrageously and I shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Why?" Bonnie wanted to know, and I flushed. I had to think of a believable lie. This was not one.

"Well, with the Matt thing— They think I need a break. But I'll talk to them, obviously."

"You better do," Caroline told me imperiously. Well, the break from school-drama seemed over.

"Right," I agreed, peering into my half-empty red cup, "I'm going to get a refill?"

"What happened to only one beer?" Bonnie grinned.

I shrugged, "Changed my mind." I dryly remarked and quickly wound around the other teenagers. I didn't really need a refill, just a moment to myself. Perhaps a silent nook where I could settle and for a moment just look at the partygoers. And I found that, just at the edge of the clearing.

Flicking a lock of hair over my shoulder, I settled below a white oak tree, covered by leaves and bordered by bare earth. Sweeping the leaves aside, tainting my fingers in mud and grime, I stretched out my legs, the dry ground still warm against my flesh and I sighed. Good thing it was a warm, humid night and for a moment I was content watching everyone move along the make-shift dance floor, alcohol flowing and the murmurs strong, humming around me like a soft blanket. After seven days of poor sleep, the tree against my back felt comfortable and the humid air felt pleasant and for a moment, my eyes slipped closed.

When I opened my eyes again, the blazing fire had decreased and the teenagers were now only a few black silhouettes moving in the distance and I realised, belatedly, the party must have moved. From the screams and the splashing of water, I gathered there must have been a lake nearby and the dance party had evolved into a swimming party. 'Lovely'.

"Damn," I muttered, muscles jerking and neck aching, I slowly rubbed my fingers in easing circles over my temples. I still hadn't finished my beer and inhaling deeply, I took a long sip of the lukewarm beer. I'd been on the verge of getting to my feet and re-joining the party, although somewhat reluctantly (whatever had I been thinking when I agreed to come) when I felt it.

My skin tingled with awareness, the fine hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck were standing up and my heart began beating fast. Hands growing clammy, I pushed myself to my feet, eyes flitting behind me and I flinched when the crunching on a leaf-strewn path wafted towards me on a gust of wind. I back-pedalled quickly, my feet scrambling to get a grip and suddenly I was falling, my body toppling to the forest floor, which levelled out behind me and I screamed, taking an unwilling dive. When I came to a stop, I was sprawled out on my stomach scratches covering my bare arms and legs and I was breathing hard. Sitting up, my lower lip trembled, and I held my arms out in front of me.

Skin pale in the darkness, again, I pushed myself to my feet, holding myself up against the thick bark of a fir tree, the branches sharp against the delicate skin of my palms. Around me, in the faint light of the moon, I saw little, but the sounds were still there, magnified by my fear. Someone or something was circling me, and my heart was pounding.

I yanked my phone free from my purse and used its' artificial light to see, whirling around to follow down a narrow, leave-covered path, away from the crunching of twigs and the whispering of leaves. I never quite knew what happened, but something moved almost too quickly for me to follow among the dark trees, a branch suddenly hitting me square in the face and I screamed.

Panic surging through me, I pounded down the narrow path and a large branch overhead cracked, crunched and suddenly came falling down and another scream clawed itself free from my throat. From behind me a girlish shriek echoed through the air and suddenly— the trees began to thin out and I knew I must be close to the street. My knees hit the asphalt hard a moment later and I was panting.

"Oh my God—"

Another shriek cut through the air and I was scrambling up again, my fingers ghosting over the phone keys and the key tone shrilly met my panting breath. Grayson answered his phone a moment later.

"Elena, one moment pl—"

"G—Dad!" I forced out because I didn't have a moment and I heard the sharp intake of his breath.

"Elena?"

"You need— you need to come to get me!" I wheezed and I heard his panic, felt it as an electric charge travelling all the way from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. "You need— the police— I think someone was attacked— I was almost attacked! It was so fast— I can't— I don't— Please help me!" I tried and then I was sobbing.

Grayson was yelling for Miranda to call Liz and to me to get to the road. To get as far away from the forest as possible (somehow, I thought he knew). He told me to stay on the phone, asked me if I saw who followed me (I had no idea who it was — I guessed Damon, but I had no real way of knowing) and told Miranda after I assumed she'd called Liz Forbes, to call Jeremy. Whatever he did, he was to stay with the others inside the forest. Not to venture off alone — I heard Miranda repeatedly tell him that, I heard a car start and someone cursed, and I couldn't breathe anymore.

"Elena," Grayson addressed me, efficiently cutting through the building panic; he was a doctor after all, "I need you to keep calm. I need you to breathe, breathe and stay calm. What do you see?"

"I— the road." I gasped back. "I reached the road."

"Okay, I need you to keep talking to me," Grayson ordered (sounding far more panicked than I assumed he tried to sound) and the pounding of my heart had started to become painful. Wickery bridge creaked when I passed over it, the sound of my steps ricocheting hollowly off against the almost flat surface of the water and I made a sharp turn once I'd reached the end. Clambering onto the dirt I slid down until my feet met the cold water of the shore and I hid into the deep dark shade, the bridge provided.

"Elena!" Grayson's gasped and his voice cracked.

"I'm okay!" I whispered back, my torso bent over my knees, breathing deep. "I hid under Wickery Bridge. Please hurry!"

"We're almost there, honey. I want you to say something every minute. Do you understand me? Every minute."

"But—"

"With intermediate poses, Elena." He told me gravely. "Keep listening to your surroundings."

"Gray, it doesn't—" Miranda started and Grayson made a low sound from the back of his throat.

"We can't take the risk. Do you understand Elena?"

I understood better than he knew, and I nodded, "Yes."

"Good."

The police sirens neared before Miranda's and Grayson's car came to a rolling stop in front of Wickery Bridge. Flashes of blue illuminated horrified faces and for once I didn't flinch when Grayson Gilbert thundered towards me and enveloped me in a tight hug. Nor did I, when Miranda joined the hug and when Grayson assured himself I was quite all right, a few scratches and bruises blooming on my arms, legs and cheeks, he moved on to Liz Forbes (seeing her was weird too; didn't she die in the series) and I watched them converse in a heated tone.

Both their faces were grim and pale and little by little students trickled by (led out of the woods by several deputies). Most in various states of intoxication, worry and disgust (I wasn't sure about the latter) and the policemen divided them into groups. In my mind, I wondered if they grouped them by usefulness (group 1, might have seen something, group 2, useless, group 3, set on fire… etcetera, etcetera) and more people assembled in front of the bridge.

From the way students greeted many of them, I guessed parents and guardians, but there was also a view who joined Grayson and Liz. Founder members, my mind supplied unhelpfully, and I felt my tense shoulders relax slightly when Jeremy was picked out the line. He was white-faced and wide-eyed, but I was glad he was okay and in one piece.

"Let's get you two in the car," Miranda said, one hand clasped on my shoulder and the other on Jeremy's. "It must have been a really scary evening for you two."

"I'm fine." Jeremy gruffly replied with all the bravado a fourteen-year-old was capable of.

"Me too." I agreed and Miranda shook her head before pushing us towards the car.

Despite his measurement, Jeremy still looked spooked and with both her children secured and buckled in, in the back of their white Volvo, Miranda joined her fellow founding members. I could only guess what the subject was, they were discussing and pushed myself deeper in the leather seats.

"Are you really okay?" I asked and Jeremy gave me a pointed look. I smiled tightly. "Someone followed me and scared the crap out of me."

"Right—"

It was in his tone. I could definitely hear it and I straightened up, "What aren't you telling me?"

"I heard one of the cops," he started slowly, and I leant closer, somehow feeling as if he was sharing a secret with me, "they found someone attacked."

"What do you mean, attacked?"

"They found Tyler Lockwood in the forest," Jeremy explained.

"What?"

"Yeah," and Jeremy turned even paler, "his throat was nearly ripped out. They said an animal attacked him. Lost a lot of blood too." He continued and reached out in childish worry, squeezing my hand. "That could have been you, Elena."

My throat was suddenly dry. Somehow, I'd forgotten he was just an eight-grader who had to stop being a kid after his parents died— after the vampires came to town and my eyes watered, "But it wasn't."

"It could've been."

"I'm okay, Jer!" I promised and I vowed, I would find a way to make it okay for him again. I would figure out what had gotten me here and, once I did, I would give him his sister back. I had to. I owed him that, at the very least and we sat in comfortable silence.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Three, Silent Companions

I was not Elena Gilbert. At this point, it felt like a moot point to stress, but I needed the reminder. I needed it in case I would forget. In case the horrors and the vampire trouble would make me forget. So, I was not Elena. I was not the perfect older sister (although no one really expected me to be), not an honour student having straight A's (although my marks hadn't been that bad when I'd finally gotten the hang of high school again) and I was certainly not a cheerleader. I had never been a cheerleader before and after four days of excessive training (thank God this was the last day), of the harsh, beating summer sun against my flesh, I felt exhausted, degraded and annoyed.

Caroline Forbes was difficult at best and absolutely horrible at worst. Truly, absolutely horrible— And that while I'd expected it to be kind of fun— not the cheering part, I was very much aware I wouldn't be good at that, but the sunny pictures of the camp, the greenery, the glistening lake and the teenagers huddled around a campfire had made it seem like a nice week out. I'd thought it was just a normal summer camp… Unfortunately, the heat made little difference to Caroline's work-out schedule.

"So when I say a Cone-Motion Approach, I mean a Cone-Motion Approach and not the thing—"

I frowned, my eyebrows puckering in a deep furrow as Caroline chattered on and on, without even noticing I wasn't listening anymore. She seemed so aloof, so far gone in her own world, I would be unsurprised if she didn't even notice were I to walk away.

I had stupidly agreed (or had been coaxed) to accompany Elena's friends and teammates to Cheerleading camp (I had lost count of how many YouTube tutorial clips I'd watched to not make a complete fool of myself), because well, my cover would certainly have been blown if I hadn't. Without the death of her parents, I was sure Elena Gilbert would have liked going to Cheerleading camp.

I was sure that Elena wouldn't do her best to avoid her friends or social gatherings. That Elena Gilbert, the Elena Gilbert I didn't know, who used to be the life of the party and whose body I was stuck in, was the popular it-girl. It was a concept I wasn't used to. I certainly hadn't been popular in high school. Did well enough in the first year of university (wasn't teased and all that anymore), but God, I had no idea how to be the it-girl and it was taxing.

However, it was the only thing I could do. After five weeks and three days after getting stuck in Elena Gilbert's body, I'd found no solution to my problem. I'd googled 'switching bodies', which had already seemed stupid when I typed it in the search bar, and, much to my chagrin, but not to my surprise, had brought me absolutely nothing.

"Elena!"

"Oh," I smiled slightly, "I'm sorry, I spaced a bit."

"Yeah, I noticed. Did you even hear one word of what I told you?"

I hadn't. Perhaps my first assessment of her not noticing me not listening had been a too hasty one and I shrugged helplessly. Caroline was one of those girls, that no matter how bad you had it, she still wanted to be the centre of attention. Human Caroline was a bit of a neurotic, insecure drama queen. Elena was her competition. I was her competition. And although I knew Caroline was a good friend, her insecure nature beneath that bubbly, confident exterior and high social prestige, often made her come off as unpleasant and a tad bit mean. A lot mean actually.

"By God, what is with you?" She grumbled. "You used to be so bendy…"

"Right, thanks, Caroline."

"Well, I say that with complete sensitivity." She retorted and I almost snorted. Complete sensitivity, my arse.

She didn't seem to notice my expression and went on without a pause, telling me to suck it up and get back into shape. Some stupid flu should not stop me from being a kick-ass cheerleader. Good to know Elena Gilbert was a kick-ass cheerleader, but held little muscle memory of the stupid routines.

"What's going on?" Bonnie asked, probably drawn by the earful I was getting, stepping up next to me, crossing her arms.

"Elena is not into it."

"She'll be fine." Bonnie defended. She certainly defended Elena a lot.

"She's behind."

"I'll practice with her."

"Fine," Caroline snorted irritated, turning sharply on her heel, leaving me and Bonnie behind.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." I answered flattening my hands over the short red cheerleading skirt. How was anyone comfortable into something that hardly protected your modesty."She's right though. I'm not as good at this as I was before. I don't know—"

"You missed a large part of practice last three weeks."

"Yeah, was she such a she-devil during practice then too?"

Bonnie laughed at that, "You know our Caroline."

"Overachiever extraordinaire."

"Hm," Bonnie nodded, eyes glinting in amusement, "yeah. Grams says she'll grow over it."

"Right, your grams—" I started and for a moment my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. "Sheila Bennett, right?"

"You've known my grams for ages, Elena!" Bonnie snickered.

I nervously bit my lip. "Right."

"You really are a bit out of it," Bonnie grinned, "did something happen?"

"Besides getting bad at Cheerleading? No, I'm just— I'm tired. Matt and I are still broken up…"

"I'm sure you two will—"

"No, Bonnie, no. Me and Matt. We're over. There's no coming back from it. We'll remain friends. But that's it. Nothing more."

"But you two are so cute together."

"Right," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush hotly, "of course, I'm sorry, but, it really is over."

"Okay—"

"It's fine," Bonnie shrugged and crossed her arms beneath her chest.

"I— I'm going to get something to drink," I mumbled, my mind completely muddled with the new possibility. Sheila Bennett, Bonnie's grandmother, was a witch too. And above all, she was a very competent witch, already well versed in the magical craft and— I hoped she had her phone number in the gold pages. I didn't think Bonnie would react very well to me interrogating her about her grams. I was sure Elena should know where her grams lived and I turned around sharply, stalking away.

Tucking my hair behind my ears, I crossed the vast expanse of grass, towards the other side of the field, towards coach Marlo's cabin. Twirling around, I stole a glance at Elena's teammates, at Bonnie and Caroline, both who hadn't noticed me, tip-toeing towards the door and sneak inside. Although, even if Caroline had noticed me, she wasn't likely to miss me while busy being the Cheer Captain of Hell and I released a breath when the door clicked shut behind me.

I made a wry face when I looked through the cabin, over the simple table, the small rickety bed in one corner and the cabinets with the landline and— the phonebook. My smile was genuine for the first time in several weeks.

The sun had muted in the afternoon sky and a soft breeze ruffled my hair when I stepped out of the car. The forest in the distance a dark outline against the bright summer sun and the houses around me looked a lot like the Gilberts residence. Nice two-story houses with wooden, wrap-around porches. Sheila Bennett's house was like that too, but with a more earthy tint to the columns. In the sun, it was bright orange, sunlight falling in warm orange rays on the brown walls and glinting off the many windows.

I wasn't sure if I recognised the house from the series or not but I supposed the mailbox (reading ' ') should be proof enough I was at the right place. Crossing my arms over my chest, I followed the gravelled driveway and climbed up the rough wood-panelled porch. The rocking chair to my right careened slowly in the breeze and I hesitated, only for a second, before I knocked loudly on the front door.

Sheila Bennett opened her door half a minute later, looking exactly the way I remembered her. Dressed in a green skirt with a dark brown blouse that complimented her almond-brown eyes and her cocoa brown skin, she smiled when she saw me.

"Elena," she greeted.

"Hi, Mrs Bennett," I greeted back, wiping my hand across my forehead. A salty sheen of sultry summer sweat clung stubbornly to my skin and tried for a smile. It really was unbearably humid today.

"Weren't you at cheer camp?"

"Erm, yeah," I agreed, looping my fingers through the waistband of my shorts. "Can I come in?"

Her eyes narrowed at that and, with a short nod, she stepped aside. I recognised it for what it was. A test to see if I was a vampire. See if I could step over the threshold without a verbal invitation. I drew my tongue along my front teeth and stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind us and I smiled, "Thank you."

"It's fine. Please, come along."

I followed her into the living room. The wood-panelled landing creaked beneath my weight and the crowded living-room was hot and humid, with fussy furniture and the heavy, red curtains, and I settled on the edge of the brown couch, lacing my fingers together. The curtains were drawn and several candles were placed on the coffee table in front of me.

"Tea?"

"Oh, yes, sure."

"So what brings you here, Elena?" Sheila asked settling in front of me.

I had no idea how to answer that and rubbed my hands over my knees. Sheila eyed me with curious eyes. The skin between her eyebrows puckered in a deep frown. I studied her warily, hesitating, unsure what I should say now. I hadn't expected to find a solution, much less a witch— even if I didn't yet know if she could help me and pursed my lips. Perhaps like a bandaid— Just rip it off—

"I'm not Elena." I exhaled in one breath and she stiffened.

"What?"

"I'm not— I'm not Elena!" I repeated my lower-lip quivering. "I—"

"What do you mean, you're not Elena?"

I exhaled loudly, "This is Elena's body, it's just not mine. I don't know how or why— I just— I'm stuck."

"You're stuck in someone else's body?"

"Yeah?"

She scrambled up to her feet surprisingly fast for her age and her eyes went wide and cold, "And you know about me."

"I— yeah!" I agreed and curled my fingers tightly in the hem of my shirt.

"How?"

"I'm not from here… I know a lot." I muttered and the icy expression on Sheila's face forced me to continue. To explain how I suddenly, somehow transferred into Elena's body right before her parents should have driven off Wickery Bridge. I explained how in my universe (for what else was I supposed to call all of this) this world was just a story, a series of the supernatural and I hadn't even watched it all. Still, I knew most of the key points and hesitantly I told Sheila Bennett about what would happen to her granddaughter. I suspected that was what truly caught Sheila's attention.

"You're saying she dies…"

"Plural times." I muttered and Sheila's eyes lighted up in anger before beckoning me to follow. I did so, reluctantly, my arms wrapped tightly around my waist and my eyes narrowed. I'd never seen witchcraft in real life before and I nervously twisted my fingers together. "What are you planning to do with me?"

"I need to see what you have seen." She explained, leading me into a kitchen. The counters were tea-stained, the table old and rickety, covered in several candles, the wax pooling on the wood and I let my eyes flit over the numerous chipped mugs and the blue ceramic teapot.

Sheila moved towards the middle of the kitchen, smoothing her hands out onto the table, spreading out a foul-smelling greenish paste and I scrunched up my nose. If she noticed my disgust, she didn't let on and patted the table almost invitingly, "If you could lay down in the middle of the table?"

"What are you going to do?"

"This spell allows me to access your memories and Elena's."

"You're going to pick inside my brain?"

"It won't hurt you as long as you relax." She explained. "I won't be able to see everything, we simply do not have the time, nor does the human mind remember every second of every day. That would be far too taxing…"

"Sounds really promising," I muttered remembering the episode where Klaus' witch tried to ruffle through Stefan's mind. It certainly didn't look pleasant nor like a very relaxing experience, but I didn't think I really had a choice. My shoulders slumped in defeat and I rubbed at the back of my neck warily. "Fine. I'm not sure what you're trying to find."

"The truth."

"I told you the truth."

"I have no reason to trust your word alone." She told me seriously and I sat down on the table. I suppose I couldn't fault her for her logic. If a girl I'd known for years (since childhood?) suddenly claimed she wasn't that girl anymore and told me she knew I would die, quite soon at that, I would probably be suspicious too.

A chill ran down my spine when I lay back onto the table and flinched when Sheila yanked my arms away from my sides, spreading my fingers in an odd downward arc and settled behind my head. Carding my hair away from my forehead, she pressed damp fingers against my temples. It smelled odd, like flowers and fresh leaves and grass and I forcefully closed my eyes. Relaxing was a bit too much to ask, but I did manage to lay there more relaxed than I would have if I'd been in a dentist's chair (I considered that a positive point). Sheila began chanting in what I assumed was Latin. I recognised a few words, but most sounded acerbic to me.

"Ng," the gasp wheezed past my half-parted lips and my back arched up from the table. Unpleasant was a bit of an understatement. My thighs trembled, my fingers curled into claws and my face flushed while a bright orange light started behind my eyelids. The chanting became louder and I started to quiver and tears clung to my lashes, dusting over my cheekbones.

Flashes of my life, flashes of the series followed each other in quick succession and when I thought I could no longer take it, it stopped and my muscles eased out and my body hit the table again. I was breathing hard and my face gleamed with perspiration. Sheila was breathing hard too, her fingers trembling against my temples and her eyes blinking owlishly. A trail of blood seeping from one nostril.

"What happened to Elena?" She asked slowly and I frowned.

"I— I don't know."

"You've never heard her? Inside of you?"

"No!" I started and my eyebrows furrowed. "Was I supposed to?"

"That all depends on the curse, honey."

"So it is a curse?" I clarified, sitting up and laying an arm over my bent left knee.

"It's an unusual one. I cannot find even a trace of Elena." Sheila muttered and I quickly sat up, nausea creeping up up my throat. "No memory of her remains in your head…"

"I don't understand. She's not in here with me?"

"No, and that's the unusual part. If someone put you in her body, Elena's being would be there too. Dormant, but they're all the same."

"I still don't—"

"I cannot help you. I must think of my family— I—"

"Would helping me put your family in jeopardy?" I asked defensively.

"Helping you, it won't do anything. Someone swapped your bodies. And only the someone who did can resolve it again. My guess, it was accidental. A protection spell gone wrong and you were randomly selected. Perhaps you were at the same place at the same time in your world as Elena's was in hers…"

"So, Elena is in my body?"

"I believe so."

"But then there must be a way to—"

"I doubt it. Magic has a price. And the price of such hefty magic will in all probability result in the death of the witch."

"Fuck!" I muttered and carded my fingers through my hair. It stuck to the back of my neck and I clawed my fingers through the tangles. "Fuck! There must be a way. I mean you believe me now, right? There must be something that can be done?" I continued, feeling the one hope shattering I still had held onto and ground my teeth together. "I mean you don't know for sure the witch is dead. You don't know for sure there is no way back—"

"Elena— ah, girl," Sheila started and I frowned. Was she not even going to ask for my real name? "There is no way of finding the person who did this. There is no connection, no trace to the witch nor to Elena's soul. It's highly possible you were chosen randomly. It's possible Elena remembers nothing of her life. To make sure, she'll live it." Another bout of nausea curled through me as Sheila leaned down to grab a can of Coca-Cola and offered it to me. "Here, drink this. It will make you feel better."

"Right," I agreed, blinking back the tears and Sheila reached out her hand as if to touch me, and then, thinking better of it, turned and sat down on a chair. I stared down at my hands, loosely wrapped around the Coca-Cola can, trying to stop myself from throwing up and breathed in deeply. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears I could hardly hear anything else and I jumped up, shifting the can from one hand to the other before settling it on the tea-stained counter: "I— I have to go. I— should go home. I should go to Elena's home. I—"

"Can't tell anyone."

"I doubt anyone would believe me," I grumbled. I was quite sure Sheila would deny my story. Somehow, she didn't wish to be involved. Perhaps now, she didn't wish to be involved with anything Elena Gilbert involved, and could I really blame her? Then again, perhaps, I could. Perhaps, I should, for I had no way to change this situation myself. And, now she said I couldn't change it. That the one who'd caused this situation was probably dead and that he or she was the only one who could reverse it. "And what am I supposed to do with the Elena situation? I take it you saw what will happen to her? What will happen to me? I'm pretty sure you know more about vampires than I do…"

"I protect my own."

"Right, thank you." I hissed and almost ran out of the house.

Just as I'd almost reached the dark SUV, Sheila's voice echoed through the air, "Elena!"

Head whipping around I squinted against the bright sunlight and my mouth twisted in distaste, "Yes?"

"I need you to keep Bonnie away from all of this."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" I snapped back. "When Damon comes he'll want your help."

"You can leave that vampire to me…" she told me darkly.

Another bout of anger burned through me and I quickly clambered in the car, afraid for what I would say if I didn't. I'd understand if she couldn't help me, but her pure unwillingness to try and help me, that was a difficult pill to swallow. I wouldn't have wanted her to die for me. I'd just hoped she could figure out a way how I could right what was wrong. I'd hoped to find a way to get out of this all together and now— I couldn't even get away from the fate of being Klaus' human blood bag.

I wasn't even aware how I'd gotten home, the car coming to a screeching stop in front of the Gilberts' residence and I stomped inside, weekend bag draped carelessly over my shoulder. The air inside the house was thick, humid and heavy, even worse than outside but at least, inside I was safe. At least, I was safe for now.

Flopping back on the bed, I rolled onto my side, propping my head upon my elbow, my eyes fixed on the window seat. Tapping my thumb against my lower lip, my eyebrows furrowed in thought, left hand picking at the stitching on the pillowcase. Perhaps, if I kept a low profile, Klaus wouldn't figure out I existed? Perhaps, if I kept a low profile— Rolling over on my back I swallowed noisily. I didn't really have a better plan but if I stayed under the radar, I could actually have some semblance of a life, even in someone else's body.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Running was not an option. I came to that conclusion roughly one night after my discussion, or should I call it a visit, with Sheila Bennett. If I ran, I would need money, means at the very least and at this point, Elena didn't have that. She hadn't finished school, no cv, and if I ran, I would never truly be able to settle with someone else.

An intricately tangled knot of emotions twisted my stomach. Besides, running meant asking for help. Meant involving other people, I didn't want to be involved. The only way I could truly run was by becoming a vampire— or by getting the help of a vampire. Both not an option and with Sheila's words reverberating around the muddled chasm of my mind, I took the steps downstairs two at a time.

Even the first day of Junior year sounded like a pleasant distraction from my churning thoughts, and I stooped low to scoop up my bag. It was sunny outside, summer still fluttering in the air.

"Elena?"

I had been on the verge of stepping outside, fingers curled around Grayson's car keys, and I turned around. I had dressed quickly, found a pair of comfortable skinny jeans, simple sneakers (because this was the first day of junior year in high school and hell, I wasn't going in heels if I was supposed to properly meet Stefan Salvatore today) and a matching cashmere sweater, and I was already late. Hoisting my bookbag up, I smiled at his approaching form.

"Yes, Dad?"

"Could you give Jeremy a lift? Kid's late— as per usual."

"Oh," I stared at the young boy's face over Grayson's shoulder and shrugged, "sure, of course."

I'd forgotten how young Jeremy Gilbert had been at the start of the series. Fourteen, too young to drive, to get his driver's license, or to even be allowed to have his learning permit yet. Jeremy looked as excited about the start of yet another year of high school as I felt, and he stepped out of the house after me.

I didn't know much about Jeremy post-season four apart from when things went bad. He got into trouble with booze and pills, often frequenting local haunts of the Mystic Falls dopers and only bettered his schoolwork after Damon compelled him.

However, that was a different Jeremy that I'd seen the past few weeks. This wasn't the grieve-stricken boy who'd lost his parents. This was a teenager who hit puberty and might try out things he shouldn't, but who wasn't a delinquent. Not really.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Calm down, just asking," I muttered and unlocked the car, readjusting the chair and rear-view mirror. Jeremy settled beside me in the passenger seat, buckling himself in and I gave him a subtle glance.

He'd foregone his emo phase, or at least, I thought he had, nor did I smell any weed on him. I wondered absentmindedly, as I started the car if he was even fancying Vicki Donovan in this timeline. He didn't look like a lovestruck teen, but then again, how was I to know for sure? "So looking forward to another year?"

"Are you?"

"Nope."

"Well, I'm not either."

"So any girls you like?"

"Did dad put you up to this?" He asked annoyed.

"No, I was just— curious."

"Well, it's none of your business."

"Puberty, doesn't it treat us wonderfully."

"Shut up."

"Gladly," I grumbled and changed gears. Jeremy offered me a small but genuine smile and for a moment, I was thrown off. And here I was, thinking he found my noisy questions annoying. After a few seconds, I offered him a small little smile in return. "So—"

"You're not going to leave it, are you?"

"How can I? I saw you stare at Vicki a while back."

"She's nice," he agreed. "She's also so— damaged."

A no to being madly in love with Vicki Donovan then. He reached out to the car radio, turning the volume up so loud, I guessed he didn't want to chat any further. I focused on the road again, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. Although, I had driven through the neighbourhood countless times by now. Had driven to the high school several times, yet I still didn't know it too well. Or at least, I still worried I would take a wrong turn, but— sneaking an innocuous glance at the younger brother next to me— I doubted Jeremy would notice, his fingers too busy flicking through the contents of his phone.

Changing gears, my eyes roved around the street. An elderly woman was sweeping the pavement in front of an electronics' shop, a man in a neatly pressed suit waved at me (or perhaps he recognised the car and thought Grayson was driving it) and a raven was flapping its wings, soaring through the air. It curled around the air like an acrobat, beady eyes flashing in the sun and suddenly dived down. I screeched when it propelled forward and slammed into the windscreen. The car swerved, I only narrowly managed to avoid hitting a lantern and the tires screeched when I hit the break.

"Fuck!

Jeremy was breathing hard; his cell having fallen to the floor and his eyes wide, "What the hell was that!"

"Damon!" I gasped and Jeremy's attention snapped to my face.

"Damon?"

"Demon bird," I corrected, breathing hard. "Why would it slam into the windscreen like that?"

"I— I don't know," Jeremy whispered and I rubbed trembling fingers over my temples. The veins beneath my fingers beating quick and wrenched almost painfully. My pulse raced and my face went cold. Damon Salvatore and his bloody bird were stalking me. Absolutely fucking fantastic. The bird had settled on the traffic sign at the beginning of the street, head tilted, small beady eyes fixed on Grayson's car. I had to stifle the need to honk at it. It wouldn't work anyway, but I did glare at it, glared at it, until it launched itself back into the sky, wings flapping harshly against the air.

I breathed out softly and counting till five, I turned to Jeremy. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck— yeah, I'm fine, okay?"

"Right," I whispered, steering the car back onto the road.

Shivering, I flicked the heat up, even though the chill settling beneath my skin had nothing to do with the cool morning air and I crossed an intersection. Checking my rear-view and side mirrors for the crow, I grumbled. The bird was nowhere in sight. I geared up, reaching the high school in record time and Jeremy almost bolted from my car. Perhaps my driving style didn't fully agree with him and I dropped my head against the steering wheel, breathing hard. The leather felt smooth against my overheated skin and for a moment I listened to my quick breathing.

"Fuck, Damon's bird. How did I forget about that?"

Indeed, how had I? The bird was kinda his signature. When my nerves had settled enough, I pulled my hair back in a ponytail, securing it with a rubber band I'd wrapped tightly around my wrist that morning, and threw open the car door.

Crossing the parking lot, I wound around several people in my haste to get inside and almost made a beeline for my locker. I'd already received my schedule over the past last week and fisting the paper tightly, I hurried towards my first class. Our Homeroom teacher started the day laying down the ground rules and handed out our new locker numbers (I never had figured out which locker Elena used to inhabit). The lesson was short and to the point and after a Miss Fish had stressed the importance of Junior year, we were allowed to find our lockers, put our backpacks away and practice our locker combinations.

I was in the process of stuffing half of my books inside when Bonnie stepped up beside me grinning madly at me. I stifled the initial response to press my hand against her forehead to check for a temperature and cocked my head to the side.

"You okay?"

"I see a hot back."

"O—kay?" I asked slowly, waiting for a freaked-out reaction that somehow would convey Bonnie's knowledge of my situation, but it never came. She kept grinning madly at me, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Fine, I bite, what hot back?"

Her answering grin was pure sin and she pointed at someone, my stomach churned. Was this how I would meet Stefan Salvatore again? My mouth turned dry and my face paled. He had his back to us (just as Bonnie had said), dressed in faded jeans, a tight T-shirt and a leather jacket. His hair was wavy, almost blond in the warm early afternoon sunlight and he was leaning against the counter of the admissions secretary. I thought she was called Mrs Clark (easy to remember, because, well, Clark Kent, anyone) and she was staring over a list, shaking her head.

Her mousy brown hair dulls even in the sunlight and obviously, something was missing from the papers. When she looked up again her dark eyes turned glassy, her face slacking and my mind reeled. Compulsion. I had never seen it in action, but I knew what it was. Mrs Clark stared unblinkingly towards the newest student, her mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to say something before her mouth stretched out into a languid grin. She nodded. My eyes ventured to Stefan's back again. To his lean back, that was, and if I could see, so could Bonnie.

"Please be hot," Bonnie whispered and I gave her an incredulous look.

"Bonnie—"

"He must be hot. I sense Seattle and he plays the guitar."

"Are you a fortune-teller now?" I asked, just as Mrs Clark handed a class schedule to Stefan.

"Grams says I am a witch." She told me drolly and I nodded.

"Ah and a fortuneteller too," I replied allowing the sarcasm to ooze heavily off the words. Of course, I knew she was a witch. But— I wasn't supposed to. Perhaps when she knew— when she believed she was a witch I could tell her. Our relationship would be far more genuine if I could be honest with her. Besides, I liked Bonnie. I didn't want to lie to her.

"She calls it physic." She supplied, eyes still glued to Stefan's back and I started to feel extremely awkward. It appeared to be a daily feeling and I curled my fingers tightly around the strap of my bag. "Well, I did predict Obama and I still think—" she started just as Stefan turned around. "Ha, I knew it!"

"Bonnie!" I gasped.

"He is hot, Elena."

And he can hear you, I awkwardly thought, feeling my face warming. He might have been hot, but he'd just compelled our admissions secretary. Should we be okay with that— scratch that, should I be okay with that. Compelling was basically stripping someone of their consent. I stared at Stefan, who was hooking his shades behind the collar of his shirt and slowly he looked up. Greenish eyes met mine and I watched his thick eyebrows lift. Bonnie was positively vibrating beside me, she too staring at his strong facial features and she shot me an excited grin.

"He's looking at you."

"Shut up, Bonnie, I think I noticed," I grumbled and hid my face behind my timetable. "History, we have History now. Let's go!"

"Elena - "

"Please, Bonnie. It's Tanner. I don't want to be late in Tanner's class. You know him. He'll probably give us a pop-quiz."

"It's the first day!"

"Yeah, tell that to the number of summer assignments he gave us." I retorted, just as the bell rang. I tugged her along and I watched her lower lipstick out in defiance or desperation. In the end, she threaded her arm through mine and kept chattering about 'hawte making obscene eye contact with me'. We hurried into the classroom, Mr Tanner blissfully not present yet and took seats in the middle row.

"I don't get it, Elena, he's hot and he's into you."

"Well, I don't know him." I returned awkwardly.

"But—"

"Please, Bonnie, I'm not ready."

Besides, I didn't want to be a Katherine 2.0 or even a Tatia 2.0. In the series Elena grew to be just like Katherine, although perhaps a bit unwillingly, and played around with both Stefan's and Damon's feelings. Her actions, her choices drove the wedge between them even further and although their brotherly bond was average, it never really went away, no matter what everyone might think.

Besides Bonnie, Elena also shared History with Matt and Stefan. If I'd thought classes had been awkward when it was just Matt staring at me, it doubled when Stefan chose me as his central viewpoint. With a face flushing darkly, my fingers clenched and unclenched on the pen I held staring resolutely and unblinkingly at the blackboard. I'd done the required reading, had done the required summer reading and done the homework. When he called upon me, I knew the answer and Tanner's eyebrows furrowed.

I wasn't sure if it was because of me knowing the answer or because of the two boys giving me moon eyes. I dared a look at Bonnie, who had slouched in her seat, grinning almost manically. I dared a look over my shoulder, staring straight into Stefan's earnest face and my face turned an even darker red and— God, why did I have to be in the body of a dead-ringer of his previous love? Katherine Pierce—

My pulse sped up until my heart was pounding wildly behind my breastbone. Oh my God, Katherine Bloody Pierce. The woman who wanted to serve me up to Klaus. The biggest, baddest Original there was would want to offer his Doppelgänger up to the cosmic powers that kept Klaus' werewolf side dormant. Truly, wonderful. And if I let her, so many good people would die. Perhaps not Aunt Jenna this time, but Klaus would probably go for someone Elena liked either way and when he then failed to make hybrids? He would scorch the town down— I just knew he would, and a low wine escaped my throat.

I might have had no ties to this town before, but I had started to care for the little family I'd been living with for the last four months. Miranda and Grayson were wonderful people and Jeremy didn't deserve the heartache he would go through if I sat back and let it all happen. The heartache Katherine would bring to him, to Caroline, to Tyler. Even to Damon and Stefan.

My hand shot up, several faces had already turned to me and Tanner peered at my face with a look I couldn't describe. Not really and I opened my mouth, "I feel sick— Can I see the nurse?"

His eyes zoned in on my sudden pale face and I shoved my books and pen into my bag, my grip on the straps so tight I worried for a second, I might crush the smooth leather.

"By all means, Elena."

"Thank you!" I whispered, ignoring Bonnie's worried look and darted towards the door.

I was already on my way out, when I heard Stefan's voice ('shall I go with her, Sir') and I sprinted out into the slightly cooler hallway. I really didn't want to speak to him and quickly made my way down the two flights of stairs. My breath was coming in quick pants, my face hot and clammy and I darted out a side door, passing the bleachers and whirled up the narrow path in the roadside, leading to the car park.

I almost fell against my car, trembling and gasping. Tears were blurring my vision as I clambered into the driver's seat. The nausea was to be expected and I leant forward, gripping the steering wheel so tight my fingers turned white. Dry heaving for several moments, I waited for the tears and the nerves out until my heart was beating regularly again. Wiping at my mouth, I stared unseeingly through the windscreen. It wasn't like I'd forgotten Elena's part in this story. I hadn't, I just hadn't considered the consequences, not all of them. If I waited, sat back and watched the show (so to say), it would only be worse.

"Hey, are you all right?"

I almost let out a maniacal laugh and slowly looked up at Stefan, "I'm fine."

"I could drive you home?"

"Erm, Stefan, this is my car, you know that right?"

"I can't let you go like this." He told me seriously and a muscle in my cheek popped.

"I'm pretty sure, it's none of your business." I retorted snippily and whipped out my cell phone, typing down a message for Bonne and later one for Caroline (telling them I'd gone home with cramps) and rammed the key into the ignition. Stefan looked ready to argue, his hand and forearm leaning on the side of my car door and I glared at him (it probably didn't look very threatening, with what, my face flushed and my eyes red-rimmed). "Stefan, close the door and step back. I want to go."

"You know my name."

"I— well, yeah," I agreed and I almost cursed myself, "News travels fast."

"Right."

"Step back, Stefan," I grumbled and tried to yank the door closed. "You should go back—"

"I don't feel good about letting you go like this." He told me seriously and I almost rolled my eyes.

"Well, I don't know you." I tried. My face has flushed, I could feel it and I struggled to keep my voice steady. "I don't feel good with someone being so forceful. So, I'm going home for the day and you have to step back!"

He did and finally, I managed to close the car door. Starting the engine, I buckled myself in and tore away. I realized it would be considerably harder to turn him away than I'd initially thought, and I gripped the steering wheel tightly. I wondered if I could keep on driving. Driving and driving and driving until Mystic Falls was nothing more than a distant memory. Truthfully, I couldn't and finally, I parked the car a block away from Elena's house. Was it really too much to ask for me to just go home? I understood it wasn't an option, but— God, was I a whiner, or not? Inhaling deeply, I stared unseeingly through the windshield and forcefully unclenched my fingers from the steering wheel. I really had to think of a plan to get out of this. I had to…

I hadn't made much progress by the time Thursday rolled around and Caroline cornered me to hand out flyers for the 'Evening of the Comet', passing over Mystic Falls (again). It was supposed to be happening, a sight only to be seen every few hundred years. I'd already foregone going to the back-to-school-bonfire (since I still remembered vividly what happened to the last bonfire I'd gone to), but she didn't let me talk myself out of going to the Night of the Comet.

I thought seeing the Comet flyover would be okay. I knew its passing was needed to empower Emily's Crystal again, but I was sure no one was attacked during— Although, that meant little. I was quite sure Tyler Lockwood hadn't been attacked in the original timeline (especially not pre-season one), yet Vicki Donovan remained unharmed and in one piece. I sighed. Thinking about it gave me a bit of a headache.

The late afternoon was pleasantly warm with a light breeze and I perilously balanced a stack of flyers in my arms. Caroline had divided the work, and I was ordered to take the houses bordering the Western Forest. At least, finding that particular neighbourhood had been easy and I slowly made my way down the old houses. They'd been recently renovated, updated with new red tiles and a fresh layer of white paint.

I moved past the houses, putting flyers in their mailboxes and rolled my shoulders, hoping to relieve them off some tension. It was an easy job; one I could do without thinking and I busied myself with handing out flyers until the sunlight descended along the rooftops and peeked out in gentle orange and golden rays.

"Elena." My answering shriek escaped my throat before I could stop it and I whirled around, flyers slipping from my grasp, scattering in the air. Stefan apologetic face stared back at me, stooping low to gather the fallen papers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"I—No, it's fine," I mumbled, slowly accepting the papers and hugging them close to my chest.

"I, I feel like I somehow offended you, but I don't know what I have done." He told me seriously.

I inhaled sharply, thumb gently drawing circles over the back of my left hand. I couldn't blame him for that though. I'd been doing my best to keep avoiding outside of classes and the classed we'd shared I made sure I didn't sit next to him. I'd done my best to act at least a tiny bit like Elena, but I couldn't be open and cheerful Elena around a man who had to actively control himself around me to not rip my throat out. I wondered if he could smell my fear and the adrenaline coursing through my veins and ran my tongue along the back of my teeth: "I— no, not really. Why?"

"You've been avoiding me." He told me dryly and I went with a sardonic smile.

"I don't know you."

"Right."

You had to give it to him. He was persistent. But I was not Katherine. I was not Elena Gilbert— well, I was, but I wasn't the Elena from the show. I was not her. And the fact that Stefan still actively tried to get to know me, only proved it was my face more than my character. Or so I assumed, and I tentatively tucked the straight strands of hair behind my ears. "How did you know where I was?"

"Oh, Caroline. She's— very talkative."

"Yeah, that she is," I agreed and curled my toes in my sneakers, my heart rate a tad bit too quick and my breathing a tad bit too shallow. "But she's been my friend since kindergarten and I love her."

"Right." He echoed again and I swallowed harshly, staying perfectly still.

"Stefan, was there something else you wanted me for?" Apart from the obvious, like liking me for my face. "Because I still have to finish handing these out at Central Hall."

"I could help you."

"Fine," I sighed, already too tired of the incoming argument that would otherwise ensue. "Why not."

He dutifully followed beside me as I ventured downtown, stalking inside the little town hall. It was busy, mostly with middle schoolers and I dutifully passed them a flyer, telling them in excited tones that they should come. That the Comet was a once in a life-time experience and many others would come. Like every thirteen- and fourteen-year-old the promise of cheap booze and a high school party was hard to ignore, and I smiled at their excited faces.

"So looking forward to the night of the Comet?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The leather creaked and squeaked noisily in protest and I rolled my shoulders, glad to be around so many people (even if all of them together against Stefan Salvatore still meant they weren't equally matched).

"I suppose. Tanner did say it only passes once every 145 years."

"Hm," he agreed, and his features rippled into a small smile. "You know that comet has been travelling across space for thousands of years. All alone."

"Yeah," I agreed and my lips eased out in a smile. "Bonnie says it's a harbinger of evil."

"I think it's just a ball of snow and ice trapped on a path it can't escape. And once every 145 years it gets to come home. I'm sorry about scaring you in the carpark last Monday."

"Oh, it's fine," I replied, drawing the noses of my sneakers over the linoleum floor. "I was upset."

"Yeah," he agreed and my eyes flitted over his face, searching, for what I wasn't sure.

"I'm fine." I shrugged, opting for a smile. I had little choice to be not fine. Sometimes, everything, the whole stuck in vampire diaries plot, it was hard. I missed my mother, my best friend, my dog… I even missed my annoying thesis advisor. I certainly struggled to get into Elena's routine. Struggled to get into Elena's old life (before her parents died, of course). I suppose I could have been stuck in a character with a worse life— Like Vicki Donovan or even Bonnie Bennett, who, yes, could do magic, but who was also abused ever so often. Realizing the silence had stretched on I shrugged: "I've been a bit stressed lately. It's an important year. With what— Junior Year and cheer practice— Mom will probably have me start practising for Miss Mystic Falls. Just a bit of stress."

"Too much stress isn't good for you though."

"Well, I journal. That often takes the heat off a bit." I shrugged and smiled. "So what do you do? For fun I mean. Play a sport?"

His smile was more genuine, and I knew of course, what he would reply. "I play some football."

"Any good?"

"I'm alright."

"Well, try out for the team. They suck." I said, remembering Elena's encouragements.

He grumbled something, probably a negative affirmative and I shrugged. For a while, the time passed in idle chit-chat and I was content. Faint evening light streamed in through the large windows, by the time I'd handed out the last flyer, and I stretched my arms above my head, exhaling loudly. I didn't know why I was surprised that Stefan was a nice guy. I'd known him— or I'd seen him on the television screen and later on my laptop screen and I'd learned enough to know that he was a nice person (when he was on his animal diet), but I hadn't thought I'd genuinely enjoy his company.

I certainly didn't love him. Fuck, no. It was too fucking weird to even contemplate him like that, but I could use a friend who didn't know the Elena from before the would-be car accident. However, no matter how nice that would be, it wasn't really an option. Vampire Stefan certainly wasn't trying so hard to just be my friend, but it was a nice diversion.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

September 12, 2009

Another entree (I'm shocked too). I've decided to write down all the information of this— reality, that I know of. It seems like the sensible thing to do. It seems like the only thing I can do to remain sane. Or sane-ish, I suppose. Nothing about his world is sane and I would like to stress it's only going to get worse. I have no idea if you're going to believe me but Damon and Stefan are vampires.

I'm not even sure why I wouldn't write it down in here. How else am I going to help you? Perhaps I should stop pretending this situation is going to reverse itself anytime soon (if ever). Sheila said that without a connection (which I do no longer seem to have with my previous body) I have no way to reverse the situation. So, I've decided to make the best of it. Now, on with the list, written chronologically:

Damon steering trouble: Tries to open the tomb to find Katherine. Hurts and abuses Caroline for the crystal. Has to open his father's tomb for Emily's spell book (also a requirement; I think).

Katherine is not in the tomb Katherine will come to town. Problems will follow: John gets stabbed. Caroline gets turned into a vampire. Tyler triggered his curse. The death of those girls: what's her name and Sarah will die (and probably a lot more I'm not remembering right now).

Elijah comes to Mystic Falls, Takes along a witch family: the Martins? Wants his family back (thinks they're dead). Has some Mystical Potion that brings someone back to life. Maybe.

Klaus comes to Mystic Falls. To sacrifice Elena, a werewolf and a vampire. Need to make sure Jenna is nowhere near Mystic Falls then. Takes over Alaric's body — right Alaric comes to town around October, looking for his wife's murderer. Which is Damon by the way. 

Esther tries to kill her children. Alaric becomes a super hunter, linked to Elena (definitely need to keep that from happening).

Elena becomes a vampire (the season I've bing-watched, but which I don't I know in such detail): There's a cure. Silas; who wants to raise all supernatural. Which is bad, I think…

The hunter of the five comes to town. Also bad… Jeremy dies (Elena loses it; turns it off, at least that won't happen to me, I hope) and Silas comes back? Not entirely sure on this one. I do think he looks like Stefan and starts haunting Katherine? Or for Katherine, God, I don't know…

I don't know. Perhaps with a list like this, I'm losing the overview. I'm sure I'm missing important details. How can I not? But at least, Miranda isn't looking in that suspicious way of hers anymore. Making lists takes time and for all she knows I'm journaling. Not all that opposed to it either.

Let's start again. I haven't seen Damon Salvatore yet. Wasn't he dating Caroline— wait, no not dating, compelling her to work for him works better, at this point? I don't think he is.

I haven't seen him drop her off at cheer practise yet, nor have I seen her wear excessive neck jewellery or scarfs. But then again, vampire blood heals such wounds, doesn't it?

I'm not sure how to bring it up with her either. She acts like I will take every boy she likes away from her and she's still batting her eyelashes at Stefan (definitely a clue she's not dating someone else, I guess).

On a positive point, Stefan seems to get the hint that I just want to be friends (I had to be blunt about that one too; 'Stefan, I like you, I do, but I've just come out of a difficult relationship and I'm not ready to dive into another for the next few months') and had done an effort to just be my friend.

I still catch him looking at me in that green-eyed-love-struck-moon-eyes way of his, but he hasn't made a move on me (didn't try to kiss me during that one practice, when I thought he certainly would). I suppose being friends with a vampire, even writing it down seems idiotic, won't be so bad. If Damon stops being an a-hole, he can be my friend too? Yeah, he wasn't big on boundaries. I'll see how that goes…

I soon learned that having a list didn't make that much of a difference. It was like knowing you had an exam.

You know you have to study, you know what the exam is about, but that doesn't mean you know what the questions would be like. If I did something, changed something unwillingly, the whole timeline would change. It was already changing. I knew it was. For one, I hadn't been kicked off of the cheer squad, which was why I stood there tonight.

In the middle of the sports' field, my hair fixed into a perfect high ponytail and the short red cheerleading uniform snugly hugging my figure. The skirt flounced around my legs, my body already aching with fatigue and I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead when Mr. Tanner started to list the interim score.

The first football game of the season and instead of benching me, what I'd lowkey had expected, Caroline had drilled me until I could dream the routine.

"Elena!" Bonnie whispered urgently.

"Yes." I agreed and I moved quickly backwards, taking my spot next to Bonnie and behind Caroline. She was about to perform a toe touch and me, Bonnie and Heather were supposed to catch her.

It was a move practiced already to perfection, but my hands still became clammy and inhaled deeply when we pushed the young blonde up, we held her there for several seconds.

Caroline was in her element, moving her pom-poms up in the air, waving her arms in difficult movements, before toppling backwards. We caught her deftly and the awarding applause was thunderous. The teams joined us on the field again and under Caroline's leadership, we backed off, allowing the game to resume. The timberwolves were losing, but at least we'd given a perfect routine.

When the game had just ended, I noticed Elena's parents excitedly descend the rickety stairs of the stands on the other side of the field and cringed slightly when they waved a video camera at me (just what I needed a spacing Elena Gilbert offering a cheer routine for all to see, great). On the other side, I spotted Stefan Salvatore follow his teammates making their way to the locker rooms and my mind swirled.

I felt as if I was forgetting something incredibly important and taking a swig of a bottle of water, I shivered. Cool air attacked my bare arms and legs and I ground my teeth together, waving at Miranda's and Grayson's grinning faces. I smiled back, turning fully towards them when Heather Winston bumped into me, her face alight with excitement and I followed her gaze.

A crowd had gathered beneath a goalpost and waving at the Gilberts I crossed the field, curious what the hell was happening. A cluster of taut anxious faces was gathered around two brawling teenagers and I froze, belatedly recognising Jeremy and Tyler.

Whatever had happened to provoke this fight (because I knew with certainty it hadn't been Vicki Donovan), Tyler had still managed to wrestle Jeremy on his back and was sugar punching him in his face. This was exactly what had happened during that one football game and my body was already moving before my brain could even give its consent.

"Stop it!" I snapped, jumping forward, pushing several useless bystanders aside, and wrapped my legs tightly around Tyler's waist and my arms around his neck until he turned almost blue. "Get off him! Get the fuck off him!"

And he did. Arms flailing and perilous balance lost, he veered backwards, as did I and we both hit the ground hard. I felt my breath escape me as Tyler fell on top of me and the world swayed around when his elbow connected with my nose. A thrill of pain shot through the cartilage and radiated to my right eye and temple.

Several people squeaked and screamed and Tyler's bloodshot eyes turned on me. He'd gone red in the face and I froze, fearing a punch to my face any second now but Stefan Salvatore caught his arm, stopping it in mid-punch, yanking up and off me.

"That's enough! He had enough and don't you dare hit her!"

"Fine by me!" Tyler snarled and instead threw his weight into a punch square along Stefan's jaw.

I winced, even though I knew it wouldn't hurt him that much but muscles tightened around my heart, leaving me winded and the scream clawing its way out of my throat when Jeremy spat out blood and what looked a lot like an incisor, got caught in my throat. I crawled towards him as Stefan held the struggling Tyler in a headlock.

Ever since the attack last June, Tyler was jittery, easy to anger (easier than what I'd seen in the series) and I watched in horror as Stefan pushed him in the waiting arms of his father.

I'd rolled on my side, pushing myself up and stared in trepidation as Stefan, white-faced and eyes cold with fury, took a quivering step back. I guess his self-control was better than I'd been giving him credit for.

Elena's parents had clustered around me and Jeremy now, both looking equally shocked and angry and Jeremy groaned when Grayson jabbed at the quickly purpling jaw with quick and efficient jabs.

"Are you all right, son?"

"Dad—"

"I don't think it's broken." He told us conversely and I licked my lips.

"He lost a tooth," I whispered, my stomach churning at the sight of the puddle of blood and the incisor. The tooth had been knocked out completely, with root and all.

Grayson's face reddened in what I assumed was the same righteous anger I'd felt and he reached for it.

The people that had collected around us started to thin out as several teachers dispersing the crowd. Richard Lockwood was shaking his son, speaking in low tones with him (too low for me to hear) while his face changed colours rapidly. I didn't think I'd ever seen a skin tone turn that purple that quick.

"We need to place that back as soon as possible—" Grayson explained Jeremy winced, "—Elena didn't you have a bottle of water?"

"Yeah," I agreed, crawling over the short grass field until I found the bottle and offered it to him. Grayson poured some water over the incisor, fixated Jeremy's face with the other hand and drew his mouth open with his thumbs, not stopping at Jeremy's gasping objections, and pushed the central incisor back in one precise nudge.

I winced. Jeremy whined, looking absolutely sick to the stomach and Miranda doted over him like a worried mother-hen.

"Do we need to go to the ER?"

"Perhaps a scan to make sure nothing is broken and tomorrow we have to visit the dentist." Grayson agreed. "Elena, do you want to ride with your mom and Jeremy? I'll have to have a word with Richard."

"Gray—"

"Yes, Miranda, I know." He agreed and I scrambled to my feet.

"I still need to get my stuff— and the car— dad, do you want to take my car?"

"I can take her home!" Stefan immediately put in and I exhaled loudly. Wonderful.

"Would that be okay for you, 'Lena?" Grayson asked.

'No,' my mind quickly supplied. That certainly wasn't okay. I liked Stefan well enough, but I really could do without sending him the wrong signal. Besides, I thought I recognised if only from the murderous look Jeremy was sending me, I had better uses.

I still had to change into clothes that were warmer and collect my bag, my phone, my purse, so instead, I smiled: "Sure, yeah, that's okay." I replied and Jeremy's hostile expression eased out in something pained but nonetheless grateful. I turned to Stefan, schooling my expression to at least not look hostile. "I just need to change first, if that's okay?"

"Sure Elena." Stefan smiled. "I'll wait at the cafeteria."

"All right." I agreed and, after hugging Miranda and giving Jeremy a soft, small peck on his forehead, quickly crossed to the girls' locker room.

From the distance, darkening, storm clouds were rolling in and the wind picked up. I didn't look back again and shut the changing room door with a loud thud. Several other girls were still there, looking up startled and with pity, and I quickly collected my clothes and moved to the public showers.

The air held the faded stench of blood and sweat and submerging myself in the hot rays of the water, I squeezed my eyes closed, scrubbing myself clean. So clean, the olive skin tinged pink and the cuticles almost completely torn off. For several more minutes, I was content to stand beneath the searing water, the sting a welcome reprieve against my smarting cheek.

I hadn't seen my face yet, but the skin felt raw and new and I knew at least my nose wasn't broken. If it was I had no doubt, Grayson had already noticed and forced me along to the hospital.

Stepping out of the shower cubicle, I wrapped a towel around myself and dared a fleeting glance at my reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. From what I could tell, it wasn't that bad, my cheek bruised and my nose reddened. It could have been worse.

The locker rooms were mostly empty. The last girls already closing their lockers, yelling their farewells and then, I was alone. Which was fine by me anyway. It gave me time to think and evaluate the day.

Tyler Lockwood still wore the scar of teeth at the base of his neck. The mark was still reddish and the puckered skin oddly white against the usually tan of his throat. His eyes had been huge and white, so much white, like the eyes of a frightened horse and I wondered, how much he still remembered of the attack only three months ago.

I knew it was Damon who'd attacked him — I couldn't think of anyone else in the first season who would work up such a frenzy of panic, while you'd think everything would go much easier when they stayed under the radar — but I had no idea why he would bother. I understood slightly why he would like to hunt me a bit for sports (I looked like Katherine now), but I had no idea what I'd done to change so little and yet so much.

The night of the Comet had gone by without much of a hitch. I didn't remember if it had gone without one it the original timeline, but I knew Vicki Donovan should have been attacked by now. Perhaps, her not being in an on-off relationship with both Tyler and Jeremy had changed what I'd thought inevitable.

Perhaps, little changes could safe a lot more people than just Victoria Donovan. Perhaps, I could change things for the better (perhaps, I couldn't, I wasn't sure), I could certainly try. Once again, dressed in my tight, black denim pants and a fitting light blue button-up, with a simple leather jacket, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and stepped outside again.

The clouds had swirled together in a dark mass of deep grey, a deep violet colour of twilight had fallen and a vein of lightning punched through the sky. The wind had picked up, a distant boom of thunder echoed through the sky and I quickened my step, crossing the football field toward the school building. The wind pulled at my hair and yanked at my clothes and I clenched my molars together against the chill.

It wasn't until I heard a second set of footsteps behind me, did I freeze, turning around quickly. You had to do things fast in a town like Mystic Falls and my eyes widened, my mouth slacked open.

Damon Salvatore stood in the middle of the field, one foot planted on a white line and the other on the green grass. His smile was lopsided, a dimple in his right cheek. I'd almost forgotten how handsome almost all men in the vampire diaries universe were (of course, many actors had at least one pretty attribute) and felt a frightening pull in my stomach. His hair was dark, waves a tad unruly and he had the lightest blue eyes I'd ever seen.

"Erm - "

"Hello." He greeted, his smile evening out, but never got less empty, less fake and my heart sped up.

"I— hi," I managed, my hands turned clammy.

"You must be Elena," he grinned. He was just over average height, but his shoulders were wide, wider than mine and I knew the strength that lay beneath that jacket. I tried for an answer.

"Yes." I agreed, cocking my head to the side. At least I'd learned from past mistakes. "And you are?"

"Damon, Stefan's brother."

"I didn't know he had a brother," I answered smoothly, hitching my bag up.

"He doesn't like to brag." He grinned and I tried for an easy smile.

"I— okay, I was just on my way—" I tried, eyes discreetly flitting around, primed to make a hasty retreat. My heart was throwing itself against my sternum frantically. As if it could somehow claw out of my chest and flee. "I have to go."

Damon bent over at the waist, laughing, "You're afraid of me."

"I—" I started, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.

"You know."

"I— know what?" I mumbled, but I couldn't put a clear thought together and suddenly Damon snatched my wrist, so fast he was like a rearing snake, fingers circling my upper-arm. His skin was warm, I wasn't sure why that came to a surprise to me (I knew they actually had a heartbeat, even if they were dead), his fingers slightly calloused and his grin demonic.

I tried wrenching my arm out of Damon's grasp, but instead of letting go, he yanked me closer and the world became a blur of colours. When the world settled again we were no longer on the football field. Instead, I had no idea where we were. Or at least, geographically speaking I had no idea where we were.

We stood in the middle of a playground, surrounded by a veil of oak trees, swaying harshly in the wind and bile clawed its way up my throat.

"My, my Elena," he grinned, fingers pressing into my arms, "I didn't think Stefan would tell you."

"He didn't." I gasped and wetted my lips and forced myself to meet his gaze and bit the inside of my cheek. "I'm a member of a Founding Family. With Stefan repeating high school and my dad having a dozen old journals featuring your names, I was bound to find out."

"And yet, you haven't told anyone." He said, slipping down onto the old, plastic swing set, which groaned in protest. He still held on to my arm, fingers slipping to my wrist and looked at me beneath heavy lids, "How foolish of you."

"I want to protect my family," I responded weakly.

"Do you now?" He asked amused, thumb drawing circles over the back of my hand.

"I'm not delusional enough to think they wouldn't get hurt when they went after you."

"Hm," he agreed, his irises expanding, "is that the truth?"

"Are you trying to compel me?" I asked stupidly, my breath caught in my throat and his eyes widened in surprise. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, drawing it out from between my front teeth.

"You're very brave."

"I play by my own set of rules," I told him confidently and his eyes flashed. This was either a bold and smart move or a very stupid one, but— there was little I could do now. "Let go of me, Damon. I need to go home. My brother—"

"Will be fine at the hospital. No, I'd rather talk to you some more." He grinned, almost charmingly and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "So, has my brother already wooed your heart? He certainly tried, hasn't he? Being the gentleman and all."

"Stefan and I are just— friends," I remarked weakly.

Damon let out a mirthless laugh, his eyes crinkling and finally, I managed to wrench my wrist free. "Friends. Is that what they call it nowadays? Of course."

"I am not Katherine, Damon," I remarked and his smile fell away, his eyes turning frosty.

"You know about Katherine."

"I do," I agreed. "I know she and I share a face. I know you loved her. I know—"

The swing squeaked and in a breath, Damon was upon me again. My breath was stolen and my back hit the rough bark or a birch tree before we both slid down.

His eyes were only slits and his grip on my neck is punishing. Apparently the Katherine comment was one push too many and I clawed at his wrist, struggling to draw in a breath. "You know nothing!"

"Da-mon, I— can't breathe!" I gasped out, but the vampire snarled, the skin around his eyes littering with streaky, dark-purple veins and his fangs protruding slowly from his gums. A gasping sort of scream passed my lips and the bounce of my knees as I tried to buck him off, hurt my ankles.

All I felt was fear, raw panic, adrenaline surging through my veins even when his fingers slightly relaxed around my throat and he leant forward. "N-no! No, you can't, Damon! If you do both you and Katherine are dead."

"Oh really," he smirked.

I yanked my necklace from my neck with a growl, the silver chain snapping, grazing the vulnerable skin of my throat which left a small, thin welt along my neck and pressed it harshly against his face.

Precisely between his eyes (although that was pure luck) and he yelled. The vervain in the amulet, even in the silver, sizzling against his skin and he pushed away from me. He was snarling threats at me the next moment and in a move, I'd only ever seen on television, I kicked him square in his face.

A thrill of pain shot through the sole of my foot up my calves, but I was already rolling over, scrambling to my feet and I ran. My hands grabbled blindly through my handbag, the contents tinkling together and I could have cried when my fingers curled around the deodorant spray I'd taken with me.

I yanked it out of my bag, just as Damon snatched my arm so harshly, something popped in my shoulder and I whirled at him, despite the ache and sprayed it fully in his face.

In hindsight, I thought, it was mostly the startling surprise, that made him let go of me. Of course, the alcohol in my bottle, spraying it straight into his bluer than blue eyes, might have played its part.

It made him snarl and hunch forward, hands pressing harshly against his face. The kick to his manhood was just a happy afterthought and brought him fully to his knees, long enough for me to yam a pencil into his neck (you had to love girl purses; they could carry anything), pushing it in deep enough to make him slump forward and that was what made me able to run away. Truly run away.

I was never happier with the self-defence classes I'd followed in my previous life. I ran to the first house I passed, pounding on the door until someone opened up and all but pushed the startled middle-aged man aside in my hurry to get inside and off of the street.

I only recognised him after several seconds, pressed against the faded, pale-yellow wall. Pastor Young looked at me, fingers wrapped tightly around his black and white collar and his wilted face scrunched up in confusion.

"Elena?"

I smiled, or I tried to. Seeing Pastor Young up close was different from seeing him on a computer screen. He was a middle-aged man of average height, perhaps a bit taller, with light brown hair and blue eyes.

I'd forgotten about Pastor Young, or at least, I hadn't thought about him at all. He and his daughter would not start appearing until season four, which was why I'd naively thought I wouldn't run into them. Or why I hadn't given them any thought before.

Eyebrows furrowing together, I tried remembering what I'd known about the Young family. Remembered that his daughter's name was called April and that Elena used to babysit her. Elena the party girl babysitting April the daughter of the Pastor— wasn't sure how that would work.

A clap of thunder shook the house and I forced out a tight, painful smile. So painful, the muscles in my face trembling from the effort: "Hi, Pastor Young! I'm— I'm so sorry for barging in." I started, breathing hard. "I The— the storm caught me off guard." I continued, grinning stupidly and Pastor Young, your house was the first one I recognised."

"Oh, of course, yes, the storm came as a bit of a surprise, hm?"

"Yeah," I grinned and I tucked my hands deep into my jacket, "a lot of a surprise actually."

"How's Jeremy?"

"I— Okay, I think. I needed a breath of air… and—" I started, but God, what was I supposed to say. I just met Damon Salvatore the vampire, yes the vampire, and then he threatened me. Almost strangled and drained me of my blood. Tucking my hair behind my ears I attempted to smile. "I was a bit afraid I guess. With that attack on Tyler a few months back and the death of those campers in the newspaper this morning…"

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about." He smiled.

"Right. So how's April? Boarding school right?"

"She's doing all right." He smiled. "She's growing up so fast."

"It's been a while," I agreed, unsure if that was even remotely true but I was saved from answering by the doorbell and my face blanched.

I could only think of one person who would come after me and I quickly followed Pastor Young to his front door, reaching out to stop him from opening it but— he had already unlocked the golden chain and was pushing the door open. My mouth gasped open, "Wait!"

Feet tripping over, but I was too late and Pastor Young had already opened the door wide.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Six, Skyward

Creaking as it swung open, I skirted to a stop next to Pastor Young just as Stefan Salvatore was revealed in the doorway, looking gaunt with worry. In the dim lighting of the porch lights, his skin looked almost yellow and I released a hard, sharp gasp. It wasn't the asshole of a brother, it wasn't Damon, thank God, it wasn't Damon. I exhaled again, meeting Stefan's worried eyes.

"Elena! There you are!"

"Stefan!"

"Who is—"

"A classmate," I gasped, a soft, short, jittery laugh escaping me, and I brushed a lock of hair out of my face. "That's Stefan," I smiled relieved at Pastor Young and he nodded in the sort of understanding that made me realise he thought Stefan Salvatore was an entirely different person to me. I didn't care what he thought I was and this time my laugh sounded genuine. "I couldn't find you anymore— and with the storm, I needed some shelter."

"Oh, no, it's fine," he smiled, the lines in his face somehow more pronounced with his light tan, "I understand."

"I'm glad." I gasped out and after several apologies left the future leader of the council and followed Stefan down the dim-lit street. The deep darkness of twilight had seeped the sky violet and grey and Stefan led me to a dark-grey Audi. I had never seen that particular car (didn't he have a red old-timer) and my eyebrows furrowed together "Is this your car?”

"No, I borrowed it from my uncle Zach.”

"Ah," right, his uncle Zach. I'd forgotten about him. "It's a nice car."

"Yeah," Stefan agreed, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He didn't even ask what had happened that I'd done a runner and opened the passenger's door for me, which I was thankful for. 

I didn't argue, climbing into the passenger's seat without a word and Stefan steered the car onto the road. During the drive, my stomach did acrobatics against my ribs and my emotions drove me a bit batty.

While the neighbourhood passed by, the sky turned even darker, inkier, even though Mystic Falls was fully lit. Windows glowing softly and here and there a television flickered gently.

Secretly, I craved their quiet domesticity, their homes and their lives. Perhaps some of their relationships built on lies as well, but I doubted they were the lies I lived with. Lies I could not disclose to anyone else again (after all, it wouldn't change anything, would it?), for who would believe me. 

No one. Knowing my luck, it would win me a first-class ticket to the nearest asylum.

Or God forbid, they would believe me and get everyone killed. Which was why, I was content sitting in the passenger seat, watching Stefan steer the car through Mystic Falls. The soft purr of the engine lulled me into a false sense of security (or so I assumed). He'd rolled the window down and the chill of the afternoon had renewed into the cold evening air, brushing against my warm, flushed cheeks.

"How did you know where I was?"

"A man with a dog caught you running away from the playground. Finding you was just pure luck.”

"Ah, okay. I guess I was lucky then…" right, super-hearing. How could I forget? It reminded me, again, of who and what he was and that drew a much-needed line in the sand. Again, I didn't want to date him. I didn't want to be a second Katherine and that much-needed line in the sand— I was pretty sure I should make it was clear to see for him too.

"Are you all right?" He asked suddenly, a self-deprecating laugh sounded hollowly through the car. "I know you met Damon…”

“Your brother’s an ass, but I'm fine.”

The car rolled to a stop in front of the Gilberts house and Stefan put it in park and killed the engine. His green eyes flitted over my face and I bit my lip, not saying anything. The silence stretched for so long I thought he'd swallowed his tongue but finally, he nodded, seemingly more to himself than to me. "You should stay away from him. Damon is— he's dangerous."

"Don't worry, that's an easy promise to keep," I assured him and quickly stumbled out of the car.

"I can—"

"It's okay Stefan." I smiled softly and hurried up the porch. "I'm fine."

”Are you sure?"

"I am, don't worry. Just a bit stressed."

"Okay."

"See you at school, okay?"

"Sure."

I slammed the door and almost flew up the stairs. Up in Elena's bedroom, still breathing loudly, I slammed the bedroom door shut and flopped back on my bed. Curling up in the middle, I stared furiously and unseeingly to the windows. At least I was alone, Miranda and Jeremy at the hospital and I assumed Grayson was still with Mayor Lockwood. 

Every so often the clouds would light up with a vein of lightning and suddenly, my throat became dry.

Of course, how could I have forgotten? Large sprawling windows, for your stalking convenience and I often left the curtains open too, the window even ajar, to let in some cool air. That was a thing of the past. Probably too late at this point but I scrambled to my feet and harshly closed the curtains one by one anyway.

A fleeting glance to the child's drawing on the wall, a trailing touch to the vanity mirror and I crawled onto the window seat, thinking, waiting, ruminating… I hadn't exactly forgotten about Damon, being an emotionless asshole at this point in the show, I just hadn't considered the possibility that he would try and hurt me. Not really. And then, of course, there was Stefan.

Stefan Salvatore was trying to be my friend. And I liked that. Since he didn't know the Elena before I pretty much took possession of her body and screwed over the storyline, I didn't have to pretend so much with him. 

But he really shouldn't care too much for me. When Klaus came to town, and at this point, I knew for sure I would meet him one way or the other, I couldn't have Stefan and in extension Damon, care too much for me. 

They couldn't want to save me. It would ensure that people would die. People I was starting to care for, and my jaw clenched. 

I hoped Jeremy was going to be okay.

As it turned out, Jeremy would be fine, although, with two broken ribs and a cracked cheekbone, he would be out of the running for six weeks or more. Grayson had returned home that evening with an apothecary's worth of painkillers and with the vague comment of needing to call an old friend, while Miranda fussed. The first few weeks, Miranda had decided to keep Jeremy home, caring for him. I'd decided to try and contact Elijah. 

Out of the options, Elijah was the likeliest to make a deal and to keep to it. But I had no real idea of how to contact him. It wasn't like I could leave an add or search Facebook.

It was what kept me up at night, waged war in my thoughts. Still waging war in my thoughts when Monday came around. I'd settled in the passenger seat of Grayson' SUV, my schoolbag balancing precariously on my lap. 

That morning, an early-October Monday, I'd found Miranda's bright, colorful sticky note, stuck to the fridge, telling me she was taking Jeremy to the physiotherapist (I had no idea what they would be doing with him yet, but several appointments in quick succession were necessary). Which was also why Grayson drove me to school that morning. I couldn't take a car when both Grayson and Miranda needed one, but that was fine with me.

I didn't mind Grayson, he didn't talk much, his actions showing what he felt more than any words could and I was content staring out of the window. Autumn in Mystic Falls was beautiful. Often cool but sunny days with a mosaic of orange, yellow and brown leaves. At least that was a welcome change from the dreary ones from my hometown. 

The vampire terrorizing the town was not.

After speaking to Mayor Lockwood that Friday after the football match, after Tyler had been grounded, more disappearances and horrible animal attacks had been featured on the news. I guessed the council had assembled and an evening curfew was installed (even if the so-called animal 'terrorizing Mystic Falls' had been caught).

I'd never realized Miranda and Grayson Gilbert led the council, but against my initial belief, they tried and did— adequate. Even if they hadn't linked the Salvatore’s yet (who were featured in Jonathan Gilbert's journals), they did an okay job.

Trying to protect people by installing rules. By having an evening curfew, because they thought vampires couldn't walk in the sun (they weren't exactly wrong), they tried. I expected they would start using their compass very soon. Which they wouldn't find since I had it. I felt as if I owed Stefan at least that much.

"You're quiet this morning," Grayson said, eyeing me with a slight smile.

"Just thinking."

"Jeremy's accident— you know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"Yeah, I know." I nodded. Even before the whole season two martyr stuff, Elena seemed to have a way to make everything about her. Or at least, felt every wrongdoing was somehow related to something she did. "I've been reading— stuff. It was a bit creepy."

"Oh, profound." He teased gently and I snorted.

"Hm, hm."

"Oh, before I forget, sweetheart, have you seen Grandmother Beth's earrings?"

"Erm, no, I don't think so. Why?"

"Your mother promised them to Carol Lockwood for the Heritage Party. You haven't forgotten, right? You're supposed to help her set it up."

"Oh," I mumbled, wetting my lower lip. "Right. Do you think I can fake a stomachache?"

"Your mother would kill you."

"Still sounds better than attending that party," I replied drolly and frowned when I remembered something. "Didn't mom put it in a safe deposit box? The jewelry I mean?"

"Miranda said they weren't there." He said, just as he pulled the car up in front of the school. "She couldn't find the pocket watch either."

"Hm, well, then I don't know," I replied, averting my eyes. "Thank you for the lift. I’ll see you later?"

"Sure sweetheart. You can take the bus to practice. Laura knows you'll come."

"Okay. Bye!" I smiled, which seemed to appease him, and I slammed the car door closed behind me.

The SUV soared away, and I fell in the routine of school. Shuffling into my first class, surrounded by sleepy students, I watched Mr. Tanner (who was as much of an ass as the series had described him to be) write down the assignments of the day on the blackboard. 

The words 'surprise test' made me nervously flip open my History book, reviewing the first few chapters again.

After that, I drifted in and out of classes as I'd done since starting high school (again). It was getting easier making it through the school days and when the lunch bell sounded shrilly, quickly followed by the scraping of chairs throughout the school building, I was quickly out into the hallway.

I had mingled with the throng of students moving as one towards the cafeteria and I took my sweet time selecting my lunch. Settling outside, the sun still warm and gentle enough to warrant lunch without my coat and grinned at Bonnie. 

The other girls, the followers I guess, had settled around the park table as well, the chitter-chatter of teenage girls a warm lulling sensation as I overthought my options. My limited options dealing with Klaus and the other Originals.

I hadn't known how to contact Elijah before (he certainly seemed like the safer choice), but that was before Slater wormed his way in my brain. Before I remembered the Martins. The witch family that helped Elijah because Klaus had (a willing) Greta Martin at his side. I remembered Slater, the computer-vampire-geek, but I had no idea where exactly he should be. I wasn't exactly great with computers, but even so, I doubted I would find him with only his first name to go on.

Besides, even if he had a vast knowledge of different topics, things some vampires older than him were unaware of, making him a reliable source of information regarding the supernatural world, his involvement with the Doppelgänger would get him killed. And I didn't want that. I didn't think he deserved that.

The Martin family, however— that seemed like a better, safer bet. Besides, they knew Elijah personally (or so I hoped). At this point at the plotline, I had no idea if they'd met yet. The sound of Elena's name jolted me back and I whirled around with wide eyes. If there was one person I hadn't expected to come and find me in the middle of the day, it was Damon Salvatore, dressed in a grey button-up, dark slacks and a matching leather jacket. A pair of sunglasses tucked in the neckline of his shirt and his smirk cocky and arrogant.

"Damon."

"Looking good today." He grinned and I felt the seven pair of eyes burning holes in me.

"I— what are you doing here?"

He feigned surprise, hurt even, "Don't you remember? You asked me to meet you."

I hadn't, but I didn't trust him with the other girls either, especially not around Caroline who was staring at him with wide, adoring eyes. "Right, of course. But you said you didn't think you were going to make it." I gritted out, curling my fingers tightly around the straps of my bag.

“Surprise."

"Great, we can talk—" I started waving at the general direction of the car park, "—there."

"Of course," he grinned, winking at a rapidly reddening Caroline, who looked on the verge of introducing herself in that boisterously, Caroline-way of hers, and I quickly got to my feet, my hand pushing against his arm, hoping to get him to move. "Whatever you want, Elena."

I gave him a tight smile, the muscles in my cheeks aching from the force and I led him down to the parking lot. My entire body felt prickly at his nearness again, but in the light of the day, surrounded by students and the hubbub of the early afternoon, I felt somewhat safe. However, I still remembered the shock of high velocity when Damon pinned me down and I clutched my bag closer. "What do you want Damon?"

"Straight to the point, hm?"

"You hurt me last time we met. What did you expect?"

"Oh honey, if I wanted to hurt you, you would be hurt."

"Wonderful thought. I have school."

"Of course, little schoolgirl." He grinned. "Let's keep this easy. I want you to accompany me to the Heritage party."

”What?"

"The Heritage party, this Friday. I want you to come with me."

"And why would I do that?" I asked, because, hell no. I did not want to attend that party.

"I could kill you." He decided in a way as if he was suggesting we take a normal stroll down the street.

"Go ahead." I snapped back irritably. "You would open a can of worms you do not want to open but be my guest.”

He laughed, teeth flashing in the bright afternoon sun, "I like that about you. So along with that pretty face, I'm putting bravery in the plus column. I could kill one of your friends instead. It seems to me that you like Stefan enough to want him to be safe. By now I doubt you're going to try and out me and if you try, it will be this easy—" he rubbed index finger and thumb together as if to illustrate his point, "— to cut out your vocal cords."

"I find Founders parties blatantly boring."

"So, I make it less boring for you."

"Why me?"

"You seem to know far more than what is healthy for you anyway. Besides, I need a date to get in."

"My parents are part of the Council."

He gazed down to meet my stare with a smug one of his own, "Of course, but I doubt you're supposed to know about it. None of your friends knows. I can tell. Have to say, I like the Barbie one."

"Leave Caroline alone!" I snapped back.

"Fine. Come with me to the Founder's party and she'll be fine."

"I— Okay, whatever you want," I growled, and my jaw tightened. 

Damon only smirked.

"Whatever I like. I certainly like those words." He grinned and a stab of disgust tore through me.

"I'm not sleeping with you Damon."

"I wouldn't dream of it, darling." He drawled and leant back on the bonnet of a dark car.

"Right," I grumbled.

"What do you know of Katherine?"

I longed to tell him exactly what I knew of Katherine Pierce, I did, but I persuaded myself that I ought to be sensible. His fits of temper and violence, ‘the murder first, regret later’ attitude. I shouldn't push him too much. His eyes glinted dangerously but with a flicker of curiousity, his expression hard and his cocky smirk evening out in a tight, angry line. Telling him about Katherine now would be pouring petrol over a low-burning flame, licking at the curtains, right before the house would go up in a wildfire.

"I know about her history," I answered slowly, pushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. "I've read the journals. I can add one plus one, Damon. Stefan is outed in one of them. You were mentioned as was Katherine. Rather thoroughly if I may add."

"Journals." He echoed thoughtfully. "Did it mention Emily's Grimoire?"

"No."

I had no idea. Perhaps. Who knew? It wasn't like I remembered every single detail about the show. I knew where the Grimoire was though. In Damon's father's coffin for Mr. Salvatore to guard or something like that. Still, I had no sensible explanation of knowing this and my toes curled in my sneakers. I tried to shrug off how unnerved I was, crossing my arms beneath my chest.

"Pity."

"Hm," I hummed, "I have to go back."

"Sure," he agreed, before smiling. "Leave the deodorant at home this Friday, all right?"

"Fine," I grumbled again and turned towards the school building. I didn't look back again, my face flushed in anger. The girl crowd — especially Caroline and Bonnie — waiting for me, expecting answers was not surprising nor a welcoming one and breathing in deeply, I made up an elaborate explanation how I'd met him. How he asked me as his date to the Founders party—

"So, you're dating him?" Caroline demanded and I shook my head.

"No, not really. He just doesn't know anyone else." I explained. "Besides, he's taken."

"He is?" Caroline grumbled, looking deflated.

"Hm, yes," I agreed and moved into the school once the bell rang again. I felt Caroline's disappointed stare burn into my back the whole way, but it was for the best. 

If I kept Caroline Forbes away from Damon Salvatore, she wouldn't be used as a human blood bag. She didn't deserve that. It was only later when I was once again staring at the blackboard, partnered up with Caroline during a French assignment, that it hit me. Damon knew witches (I was sure of Bree and I guessed there were others). How far off would I be if I guessed he could obtain the number of Jonas Martin?

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Seven, Terrific or Terrifying

On Friday the 25th, after an easy day at school, I left the shared bathroom still toweling my hair dry when my phone buzzed and with a frown, I tapped the screen harshly. Damon, telling me he would pick me up at six. I had no idea how he'd even gotten my number.

I certainly hadn't given it to him (nor did I know it by memory), but I supposed it answered the question when he would turn up. Miranda had been almost over-excited that I would be joining the party, that I changed my mind and I was content letting her believe that.

Wrapping a towel around my hair, I selected a pretty, superfine blue silk dress with small sleeves, only covering my shoulders, and an empire waist. It fell gently just below my knees and a silver ribbon was tied around my waist. I liked it. I had no idea if Elena did, but I liked it. A lot. Elena looked superb in it too, but then again, Elena looked good in almost anything.

When I was satisfied with the dress, the matching diamond stud earrings and a silver charm bracelet, I sat down in front of my vanity mirror.

I hadn't curled my hair in ages, my original hair such a bird's nest no hairdo ever held, but Elena's hair shaped in thick ringlets around my face. Even though I kept my make-up natural, with a light, bronze eyeshadow, a thin layer of mascara on my lashes and a bit of lip gloss, I looked like the spitting image of Katherine.

An innocent Katherine, but a Katherine, nonetheless—

For a moment, I stared at my reflection. Elena would let herself be sacrificed for the good of her friends. Katherine ran from Klaus instead. Was my wish not immeasurably selfish as well? I might have decided not to run, I still didn't want to die.

On a different note, my death would do nothing to spare the people in this town either. When Elena went to her sacrifice willingly, Klaus still went after her Aunt Jenna. If I went straight to Klaus, I would lose. Which was why Elijah still was the best bet, but in truth, Elijah would do nothing for my survival either. At least, not for sure. His mystical drink didn't have to work.

"You look beautiful, sweetie," Miranda complimented as she stepped into Elena's bedroom.

"Oh," I smiled, tucking an errant curl behind my ear, "thank you."

"The blue compliments you skin tone really well."

I smoothed my hands down the length of the blue dress while Miranda settled down on the edge of my bed. I smiled at her reflection in the vanity mirror, "Thank you. I liked the blue."

"So your date?" She asked, smiling in a way that made me think Elena told Miranda everything.

"His name's Damon. The brother of the new guy. You remember Stefan, right?" I asked.

"I definitely do," her mom replied.

I smiled. That certainly didn't surprise me, and I turned towards her. "So, Damon— he doesn't know so many people and his uncle is Zach Salvatore— Well, he asked me, and I agreed to let him take me. He's nice enough. A bit arrogant, so I certainly would love to bring him down a peg." I continued, considering my words as they tumbled from my lips.

"Sounds like a very healthy thing to do." Miranda smirked.

"Doesn't it?" I agreed, adding the final touch to my lip gloss before puckering my lips.

"Don't let yourself be pressured into anything, all right?" She tried; eyebrows drawn tightly together. "Older men are not like teenagers. They might want— more from you."

"I know. But we're not dating. I'm not planning on sleeping with him."

"Sleeping and dating—"

"I know, mom!" I whispered, flushing hotly and she gave me an unimpressed look. "I'm not sleeping with him. I promise you; I am not opening that can of worms."

"Good."

"Did you find Grandma Beth's earrings?" I asked, forcefully changing the subject.

"No, I have no idea what happened to those. John didn't know where they were either."

"Why would John know?" I asked drolly.

"Oh no reason, sweetie."

I let the obvious lie slide and stepped into my shoes. "What time is it?"

"Five-thirty. Are you driving with us?"

"No," I shook my head. "Damon will pick me up at six." The words had only just left my mouth when the growl of a car came from our driveway and I frowned. "I guess he's early."

"He's good looking," Miranda observed, looking outside through a crack of my curtains. "Isn't he too old though?"

"He's twenty-five and we're only going as friends." I remarked almost snorting at her remark.

"Hm." Miranda answered and I snatched a fitting silver guardian from my desk chair as I made my way out of the bedroom. Even when I knew what would happen tonight, or at least I thought I knew what would happen tonight, I had a nagging sort feeling at the back of my mind. Like a ludicrous sort of premonition that would leave one weak-kneed, breathless and uncommonly scared.

I followed Miranda down the stairs, my fingers spasming around the banister. Grayson was already at the front door, having thrown it open wide and I watched Damon's blue Camaro gleam in the sun. It was a beautiful car, as was the man who unfolded out of it. He was dressed smartly, looking handsome in his sharply tailored suit but his smirk was notably absent of his face, instead a smile gracing his features (his eyes only briefly widening upon seeing me).

"Good evening."

"Evening," Grayson echoed, walking out first, holding out his hand to shake.

"Mister Gilbert," Damon greeted pleasantly, before blurting out, "I— Elena has your eyes."

I snorted at that. The bumbling way he fell over his words, threw out the first thing that came to mind. I was impressed. Extremely so, while Grayson didn't seem to notice it was all an act and basked in pride. Or perhaps that was slight amusement too.

I couldn't say for sure and listened half-heartedly as he and Damon exchanged pleasantries. It ended with Damon promising to have me home around eleven (which Grayson waved away; he himself would be at the party as well after all) and offering me his arm.

I stared at it for less than a second before realizing, refusing his arm would be suspicious and linked my arm tightly around his. Staring at the car, my heart broke into a fearful gallop and the back of my neck clammy with sweat.

Steeling my nerves, I allowed him to lead me to the car. I climbed into the passenger side of the convertible and buckled the strap in, waving at Elena's parents (I was pretty sure, Grayson would try and grill Damon when he got the chance) and Damon looked at me over the rim of his sunglasses gearing the car forward and smirked, "Nice outfit."

"I hope you won't try to ruin it."

"Now why would I do that?"

"You ruined a perfect good pair of skinny jeans the first time we met."

"Oh, don't worry. I will be on my best behavior."

"Somehow, I doubt that." I muttered.

Even though he wasn't driving fast, the wind was loud in my ears, toying with my hair. Damon drummed his fingers softly on the steering wheel and I leant back into the leather seat. The sun was warm against the back of my eyelids and for a moment I felt somewhat relaxed. Then Damon opened his mouth and the moment was shattered. "I need you to do something for me."

"Get you inside?"

"Smart cookie."

"I need you to do something for me too."

"Oh?"

"I need the phone number of Doctor Jonas Martin." I replied and curled my toes in my shoes. "He's a witch. And I need his help. You help me, I help you. You know, Quid pro quo and all."

His eyebrows rose. "You want me to find a witch? For what?"

"I'm compelled not to tell you," I droned out.

He stared at me with wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I can't tell you, Damon." I shrugged. "But this witch isn't very pro-vampire so please don't be rude."

"All that to get me in?"

"I'm sure you don't just want me to help you get in, now do you?"

"No," he agreed, frowning.

"I can get you your stupid Crystal too?"

"You—" he started and the car edged dangerously close to the pavement and the lanterns.

"Does it matter how I know?" I asked. "Let's suffice it to say you're not the only one who wants someone out of the tomb."

"You're awfully secretive."

"Everyone is allowed to have their secrets. Do you think you can get it?"

"The phone number of witch-doctor Jonas Martin. Yeah, I'll get it, Miss Gilbert." He drawled and steered the car off the main road onto a dirt one.

I let out a relieved sigh when Lockwood manor came into view, even though I knew he wouldn't try and hurt me while he wanted something from me. While we had an understanding. Ever the gentleman to the public eye, he led me up the gravel road towards the house, his hand perched on my lower back.

Mayor Lockwood grinned when he saw me, but his smile was a bit off. I couldn't blame him. Seeing me, he probably thought about Jeremy, but I smiled anyway, accepting his hand to shake.

He didn't look as violent as the series made him out to be and with a smile, as I waited dutifully for the invitation to get inside, I followed Damon into the spacious hall. I had never considered myself poor.

Never. Before all this, I was an only-child, raised in a middle-class neighborhood. My parents had been able to pay for my education after high school and we'd been able to afford our annual vacations abroad, but compared to the Lockwood's, I was definitely poor as dirt. I breathed in hard, the happy social mask already taxing.

The large ballroom, at the back of Lockwood manor, looked beautiful. Gentle sunlight streamed in through the high-paned windows, glittering off the gold and silver streamers, which hung from the large chandeliers. Off to the side, displays shimmered and I stared around curiously, snatched a flute of champagne of a passing waiter. Taking a long sip, I followed Damon further into the room.

Most of the people I didn't know, but all of them were well-dressed and I tugged self-consciously at the hem of my dress, "So, what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to stand watch." He told me seriously. "When the right moment comes."

"And my witch-doctor?" I asked slowly, stopping in front of one of the displays.

"I sent word to a witch I know. She's looking into it." He told me drolly, following my gaze to the wedding bands. "Do you know these?"

"Yeah, they're my parents'." I said, recognizing them. "They were my ancestor's first."

"I see." He muttered.

"Where is the crystal?"

"And here I was thinking you knew so much."

"I know the draft of it." I shrugged my shoulders. "I know you were able to hide it somewhere, but well, that's it. I don't know exactly where."

"Hm."

We moved through the ballroom, having crossed to one wall that held different items. Monumental scrolls and parchments were hung on the wall and put in those same glass displays.

My eyes flitted over the framed old photos and a long list of guests who'd attended a council celebration all the way back to 1864. I cocked my head once I noticed both Stefan's and Damon's name beneath Benjamin Lockwood's and dared a glance at Damon. He too was looking at the list. "Say, what was it like back then?"

"Hm, good question. It was different, I suppose. It was in the middle of the Civil war. Society expected men to sign up for the Confederate army while fear and worry ran rampant through the town. You could say being a—" he leant in close and whispered the next word exactly against the shell of my ear, "vampire during these days was both problematic as it was rewarding."

"Because soldiers were often unaccounted for? For feeding purposes, I mean?"

"Yep," he agreed, popping the 'p' and, leading me to the dance floor, wrapped an arm around my waist, his other hand gripping my right. I wasn't sure why he wanted to dance with me. Perhaps dancing with me felt nostalgic. Perhaps swirling me around made him remembering having Katherine in his arms and for a moment a painful pang shot through my heart.

Katherine was Damon's whole world and she was bound to break his heart, his devotion. It was kinda sad actually. Damon's expression darkened when I quaffed as he twirled me. I couldn't dance (I knew Elena could), so when I fell into step with him, I just followed his lead.

I only realized my right hand was squeezing his when he gently squeezed in return and I gave him a small smile.

"I'm not a very good dancer." I told him and he shrugged.

"It's fine. I think your parents like me."

"Well, they don't know you, do they?" I drolly replied and he chuckled.

"Fair enough."

With a stiff spine I let him lead me through another dance and I watched the other mingling people through the corner of my eyes. Caroline and Bonnie moved quickly through the crowd and with a pulse of embarrassment, I realized Elena had volunteered to be there too.

As a volunteer or at least as a helping hand. Carol Lockwood didn't look at me as if she wanted to wring my neck, nor did she go for Grayson and Miranda, once they too arrived at the party.

Caroline shot a longing look at me — I really didn't understand why she couldn't take my word on the matter of Damon Salvatore — and I forcefully ignored it.

Two more dances passed, and I noticed Stefan from my peripheral vision, standing at the side. His face was pale, his eyebrows furrowed, and his white-knuckled hand was tightly wrapped around a flute of champagne.

I was impressed he hadn't broken the glass in two thousand pieces and my slight enjoyment fizzled out ever so slightly. Damon had noticed his brother too, his smile the slightest bit more smug and his posture every bit more arrogant. Honestly, it was like dealing with toddlers.

"You're such a child," I muttered.

Damon just grinned unconcerned, leading me into another dance.

o.O.o

The sudden tug on my wrist half an hour later, as he led me away from the dance floor, exclaiming loudly he needed a drink, came as a bit of a surprise. His hold was tight, almost painful and I wobbled on my heels to keep in step with him.

"What are you—"

"Fun is over, Elena." He grinned. "Time to do what we came for."

"You know where the crystal is?"

"Upper floor. It should be deserted now. Finally." He grinned.

"Oh, okay." I agreed and followed after him. Damon held the door open and shepherded me into a dim-lighted hallway, his hand remaining strongly against my lower-back. I gently straightened my dress, starting the ascend up the stairs and we stepped out into another hallway.

This one was decorated almost obscenely with beautiful Renaissance works (flaunting off their wealth, I guessed), the rooms we passed were large, furnished in great detail and I couldn't help but look around with wide eyes. Damon seemed to know his way (I wasn't sure how, perhaps blueprints) and led me into a darkened room.

I could hear the faint sounds of the party downstairs drifting towards me and I thought we might be right above the Lockwood's' ballroom. Damon moved across the room, straight towards one side. Towards a long table, draped in a silken reddish cloth, displaying an assorted variety of antiques.

I watched Damon run his hands over several objects, his eyes alight with the soft sort of intensity that made a shudder ran down my spine.

I really shouldn't forget that this Damon, the Damon from season one, was far more intent on watching Mystic Falls burn at his point. However, when he pulled a little chest towards him, rummaging through it, my breath stilled in my throat. A second and a click later, he pulled out an amber-yellowish crystal and his grin was wide, almost inhuman.

"Finally!"

"I'm glad." I tried, even though I wasn't. He stalked forward, pushing the crystal in my hands and I frowned. Staring at it with wide eyes while Damon produced a long chain, linking it through the small silver loop at the crystal and hung it around my neck. "What are you doing?"

"I need you to keep it with you."

"Why me?"

"We're working together right?"

"You've got my number?"

His smirk was pure sin, "I will, little girl. I definitely will. And you'll get it. Once we're out of here and my crystal is in once piece."

"My God, you're tiring." I grumbled and smoothed my fingers over the crystal. "It doesn't match my dress, but fine. Whatever."

"Wonderful." He grinned and we rejoined the party. I left his reaching arms to mingle for a while and once the party ended — or ended for me — Damon dropped me off at my home. At eleven o'clock sharp, without as much as a disagreement or an improper retort, Damon drove the Camaro up the Gilberts' driveway. I dropped the crystal in his awaiting hand and hurried to the front door.

As the Camaro rolled away, I ventured into the hall, lured towards the kitchen by the soft humming of a woman. Finding Jenna in the kitchen came as a bit of a surprise (I'd thought she was still at college) and I waved slowly at her.

She waggled her fingers at me, before turning her attention back to her cell phone, her lips drawn back into a silly, little love-sick smile as she texted with someone. I'd say a male someone.

I liked Jenna. She didn't seem to mind when I acted differently from the Elena she'd known, and I left her and her phone alone.

She deserved a life of her own, a life away from the drama that was Mystic Falls, and I stalked upstairs, curled into the window seat and stared unblinkingly at Elena's cell phone, waiting for Damon to do what he promised.

To message me the contact information of the Martins. When it came, just before twelve o'clock, I grinned a bittersweet smile. Finally— Progress!

To be continued…

A/N: And to address some questions. To Silentmyhem, a very good question, why not use the crystal to contact Emily and get what Non-Elena wants from her. To be honest, I didn't think about that one when I wrote this chapter. Also, I'm not sure how Non-Elena would be able to contact a death witch. She's not one (or a realized one at least, whatever opinion about Elena being a witch or not, is the more popular one).

To Hearteyesmf: Yes, Non-Elena is definitely not realizing how hard the shit will hit the fan if she doesn't try to keep Stefan away. I think even with what she knows about the vampire diaries universe, she's still a bit naive when it comes down to dealing with vampires. That will change eventually.

A/N: Hello everybody,

And welcome (back) to this story. I was really happy with all the comments I'd got on last chapter and I'm really happy to hear about your opinions.

Non-Elena finally has a semblance of a plan. Let's see how well it goes^^. Non-Elena already let Damon know she knows about him and Katherine. There is no point in denying it now when Damon already knows. Besides, she considers sharing part of her knowledge a calculated risk. Besides, it will speed up things nicely. Enjoy:)

Beta'd by Hpuni101

o.O.o

Chapter Seven, Terrific or Terrifying

On Friday the 25th, after an easy day at school, I left the shared bathroom still toweling my hair dry when my phone buzzed and with a frown, I tapped the screen harshly. Damon, telling me he would pick me up at six. I had no idea how he'd even gotten my number.

I certainly hadn't given it to him (nor did I know it by memory), but I supposed it answered the question when he would turn up. Miranda had been almost over-excited that I would be joining the party, that I changed my mind and I was content letting her believe that.

Wrapping a towel around my hair, I selected a pretty, superfine blue silk dress with small sleeves, only covering my shoulders, and an empire waist. It fell gently just below my knees and a silver ribbon was tied around my waist. I liked it. I had no idea if Elena did, but I liked it. A lot. Elena looked superb in it too, but then again, Elena looked good in almost anything.

When I was satisfied with the dress, the matching diamond stud earrings and a silver charm bracelet, I sat down in front of my vanity mirror.

I hadn't curled my hair in ages, my original hair such a bird's nest no hairdo ever held, but Elena's hair shaped in thick ringlets around my face. Even though I kept my make-up natural, with a light, bronze eyeshadow, a thin layer of mascara on my lashes and a bit of lip gloss, I looked like the spitting image of Katherine.

An innocent Katherine, but a Katherine, nonetheless—

For a moment, I stared at my reflection. Elena would let herself be sacrificed for the good of her friends. Katherine ran from Klaus instead. Was my wish not immeasurably selfish as well? I might have decided not to run, I still didn't want to die.

On a different note, my death would do nothing to spare the people in this town either. When Elena went to her sacrifice willingly, Klaus still went after her Aunt Jenna. If I went straight to Klaus, I would lose. Which was why Elijah still was the best bet, but in truth, Elijah would do nothing for my survival either. At least, not for sure. His mystical drink didn't have to work.

"You look beautiful, sweetie," Miranda complimented as she stepped into Elena's bedroom.

"Oh," I smiled, tucking an errant curl behind my ear, "thank you."

"The blue compliments you skin tone really well."

I smoothed my hands down the length of the blue dress while Miranda settled down on the edge of my bed. I smiled at her reflection in the vanity mirror, "Thank you. I liked the blue."

"So your date?" She asked, smiling in a way that made me think Elena told Miranda everything.

"His name's Damon. The brother of the new guy. You remember Stefan, right?" I asked.

"I definitely do," her mom replied.

I smiled. That certainly didn't surprise me, and I turned towards her. "So, Damon— he doesn't know so many people and his uncle is Zach Salvatore— Well, he asked me, and I agreed to let him take me. He's nice enough. A bit arrogant, so I certainly would love to bring him down a peg." I continued, considering my words as they tumbled from my lips.

"Sounds like a very healthy thing to do." Miranda smirked.

"Doesn't it?" I agreed, adding the final touch to my lip gloss before puckering my lips.

"Don't let yourself be pressured into anything, all right?" She tried; eyebrows drawn tightly together. "Older men are not like teenagers. They might want— more from you."

"I know. But we're not dating. I'm not planning on sleeping with him."

"Sleeping and dating—"

"I know, mom!" I whispered, flushing hotly and she gave me an unimpressed look. "I'm not sleeping with him. I promise you; I am not opening that can of worms."

"Good."

"Did you find Grandma Beth's earrings?" I asked, forcefully changing the subject.

"No, I have no idea what happened to those. John didn't know where they were either."

"Why would John know?" I asked drolly.

"Oh no reason, sweetie."

I let the obvious lie slide and stepped into my shoes. "What time is it?"

"Five-thirty. Are you driving with us?"

"No," I shook my head. "Damon will pick me up at six." The words had only just left my mouth when the growl of a car came from our driveway and I frowned. "I guess he's early."

"He's good looking," Miranda observed, looking outside through a crack of my curtains. "Isn't he too old though?"

"He's twenty-five and we're only going as friends." I remarked almost snorting at her remark.

"Hm." Miranda answered and I snatched a fitting silver guardian from my desk chair as I made my way out of the bedroom. Even when I knew what would happen tonight, or at least I thought I knew what would happen tonight, I had a nagging sort feeling at the back of my mind. Like a ludicrous sort of premonition that would leave one weak-kneed, breathless and uncommonly scared.

I followed Miranda down the stairs, my fingers spasming around the banister. Grayson was already at the front door, having thrown it open wide and I watched Damon's blue Camaro gleam in the sun. It was a beautiful car, as was the man who unfolded out of it. He was dressed smartly, looking handsome in his sharply tailored suit but his smirk was notably absent of his face, instead a smile gracing his features (his eyes only briefly widening upon seeing me).

"Good evening."

"Evening," Grayson echoed, walking out first, holding out his hand to shake.

"Mister Gilbert," Damon greeted pleasantly, before blurting out, "I— Elena has your eyes."

I snorted at that. The bumbling way he fell over his words, threw out the first thing that came to mind. I was impressed. Extremely so, while Grayson didn't seem to notice it was all an act and basked in pride. Or perhaps that was slight amusement too.

I couldn't say for sure and listened half-heartedly as he and Damon exchanged pleasantries. It ended with Damon promising to have me home around eleven (which Grayson waved away; he himself would be at the party as well after all) and offering me his arm.

I stared at it for less than a second before realizing, refusing his arm would be suspicious and linked my arm tightly around his. Staring at the car, my heart broke into a fearful gallop and the back of my neck clammy with sweat.

Steeling my nerves, I allowed him to lead me to the car. I climbed into the passenger side of the convertible and buckled the strap in, waving at Elena's parents (I was pretty sure, Grayson would try and grill Damon when he got the chance) and Damon looked at me over the rim of his sunglasses gearing the car forward and smirked, "Nice outfit."

"I hope you won't try to ruin it."

"Now why would I do that?"

"You ruined a perfect good pair of skinny jeans the first time we met."

"Oh, don't worry. I will be on my best behavior."

"Somehow, I doubt that." I muttered.

Even though he wasn't driving fast, the wind was loud in my ears, toying with my hair. Damon drummed his fingers softly on the steering wheel and I leant back into the leather seat. The sun was warm against the back of my eyelids and for a moment I felt somewhat relaxed. Then Damon opened his mouth and the moment was shattered. "I need you to do something for me."

"Get you inside?"

"Smart cookie."

"I need you to do something for me too."

"Oh?"

"I need the phone number of Doctor Jonas Martin." I replied and curled my toes in my shoes. "He's a witch. And I need his help. You help me, I help you. You know, Quid pro quo and all."

His eyebrows rose. "You want me to find a witch? For what?"

"I'm compelled not to tell you," I droned out.

He stared at me with wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I can't tell you, Damon." I shrugged. "But this witch isn't very pro-vampire so please don't be rude."

"All that to get me in?"

"I'm sure you don't just want me to help you get in, now do you?"

"No," he agreed, frowning.

"I can get you your stupid Crystal too?"

"You—" he started and the car edged dangerously close to the pavement and the lanterns.

"Does it matter how I know?" I asked. "Let's suffice it to say you're not the only one who wants someone out of the tomb."

"You're awfully secretive."

"Everyone is allowed to have their secrets. Do you think you can get it?"

"The phone number of witch-doctor Jonas Martin. Yeah, I'll get it, Miss Gilbert." He drawled and steered the car off the main road onto a dirt one.

I let out a relieved sigh when Lockwood manor came into view, even though I knew he wouldn't try and hurt me while he wanted something from me. While we had an understanding. Ever the gentleman to the public eye, he led me up the gravel road towards the house, his hand perched on my lower back.

Mayor Lockwood grinned when he saw me, but his smile was a bit off. I couldn't blame him. Seeing me, he probably thought about Jeremy, but I smiled anyway, accepting his hand to shake.

He didn't look as violent as the series made him out to be and with a smile, as I waited dutifully for the invitation to get inside, I followed Damon into the spacious hall. I had never considered myself poor.

Never. Before all this, I was an only-child, raised in a middle-class neighborhood. My parents had been able to pay for my education after high school and we'd been able to afford our annual vacations abroad, but compared to the Lockwood's, I was definitely poor as dirt. I breathed in hard, the happy social mask already taxing.

The large ballroom, at the back of Lockwood manor, looked beautiful. Gentle sunlight streamed in through the high-paned windows, glittering off the gold and silver streamers, which hung from the large chandeliers. Off to the side, displays shimmered and I stared around curiously, snatched a flute of champagne of a passing waiter. Taking a long sip, I followed Damon further into the room.

Most of the people I didn't know, but all of them were well-dressed and I tugged self-consciously at the hem of my dress, "So, what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to stand watch." He told me seriously. "When the right moment comes."

"And my witch-doctor?" I asked slowly, stopping in front of one of the displays.

"I sent word to a witch I know. She's looking into it." He told me drolly, following my gaze to the wedding bands. "Do you know these?"

"Yeah, they're my parents'." I said, recognizing them. "They were my ancestor's first."

"I see." He muttered.

"Where is the crystal?"

"And here I was thinking you knew so much."

"I know the draft of it." I shrugged my shoulders. "I know you were able to hide it somewhere, but well, that's it. I don't know exactly where."

"Hm."

We moved through the ballroom, having crossed to one wall that held different items. Monumental scrolls and parchments were hung on the wall and put in those same glass displays.

My eyes flitted over the framed old photos and a long list of guests who'd attended a council celebration all the way back to 1864. I cocked my head once I noticed both Stefan's and Damon's name beneath Benjamin Lockwood's and dared a glance at Damon. He too was looking at the list. "Say, what was it like back then?"

"Hm, good question. It was different, I suppose. It was in the middle of the Civil war. Society expected men to sign up for the Confederate army while fear and worry ran rampant through the town. You could say being a—" he leant in close and whispered the next word exactly against the shell of my ear, "vampire during these days was both problematic as it was rewarding."

"Because soldiers were often unaccounted for? For feeding purposes, I mean?"

"Yep," he agreed, popping the 'p' and, leading me to the dance floor, wrapped an arm around my waist, his other hand gripping my right. I wasn't sure why he wanted to dance with me. Perhaps dancing with me felt nostalgic. Perhaps swirling me around made him remembering having Katherine in his arms and for a moment a painful pang shot through my heart.

Katherine was Damon's whole world and she was bound to break his heart, his devotion. It was kinda sad actually. Damon's expression darkened when I quaffed as he twirled me. I couldn't dance (I knew Elena could), so when I fell into step with him, I just followed his lead.

I only realized my right hand was squeezing his when he gently squeezed in return and I gave him a small smile.

"I'm not a very good dancer." I told him and he shrugged.

"It's fine. I think your parents like me."

"Well, they don't know you, do they?" I drolly replied and he chuckled.

"Fair enough."

With a stiff spine I let him lead me through another dance and I watched the other mingling people through the corner of my eyes. Caroline and Bonnie moved quickly through the crowd and with a pulse of embarrassment, I realized Elena had volunteered to be there too.

As a volunteer or at least as a helping hand. Carol Lockwood didn't look at me as if she wanted to wring my neck, nor did she go for Grayson and Miranda, once they too arrived at the party.

Caroline shot a longing look at me — I really didn't understand why she couldn't take my word on the matter of Damon Salvatore — and I forcefully ignored it.

Two more dances passed, and I noticed Stefan from my peripheral vision, standing at the side. His face was pale, his eyebrows furrowed, and his white-knuckled hand was tightly wrapped around a flute of champagne.

I was impressed he hadn't broken the glass in two thousand pieces and my slight enjoyment fizzled out ever so slightly. Damon had noticed his brother too, his smile the slightest bit more smug and his posture every bit more arrogant. Honestly, it was like dealing with toddlers.

"You're such a child," I muttered.

Damon just grinned unconcerned, leading me into another dance.

The sudden tug on my wrist half an hour later, as he led me away from the dance floor, exclaiming loudly he needed a drink, came as a bit of a surprise. His hold was tight, almost painful and I wobbled on my heels to keep in step with him.

"What are you—"

"Fun is over, Elena." He grinned. "Time to do what we came for."

"You know where the crystal is?"

"Upper floor. It should be deserted now. Finally." He grinned.

"Oh, okay." I agreed and followed after him. Damon held the door open and shepherded me into a dim-lighted hallway, his hand remaining strongly against my lower-back. I gently straightened my dress, starting the ascend up the stairs and we stepped out into another hallway.

This one was decorated almost obscenely with beautiful Renaissance works (flaunting off their wealth, I guessed), the rooms we passed were large, furnished in great detail and I couldn't help but look around with wide eyes. Damon seemed to know his way (I wasn't sure how, perhaps blueprints) and led me into a darkened room.

I could hear the faint sounds of the party downstairs drifting towards me and I thought we might be right above the Lockwood's' ballroom. Damon moved across the room, straight towards one side. Towards a long table, draped in a silken reddish cloth, displaying an assorted variety of antiques.

I watched Damon run his hands over several objects, his eyes alight with the soft sort of intensity that made a shudder ran down my spine.

I really shouldn't forget that this Damon, the Damon from season one, was far more intent on watching Mystic Falls burn at his point. However, when he pulled a little chest towards him, rummaging through it, my breath stilled in my throat. A second and a click later, he pulled out an amber-yellowish crystal and his grin was wide, almost inhuman.

"Finally!"

"I'm glad." I tried, even though I wasn't. He stalked forward, pushing the crystal in my hands and I frowned. Staring at it with wide eyes while Damon produced a long chain, linking it through the small silver loop at the crystal and hung it around my neck. "What are you doing?"

"I need you to keep it with you."

"Why me?"

"We're working together right?"

"You've got my number?"

His smirk was pure sin, "I will, little girl. I definitely will. And you'll get it. Once we're out of here and my crystal is in once piece."

"My God, you're tiring." I grumbled and smoothed my fingers over the crystal. "It doesn't match my dress, but fine. Whatever."

"Wonderful." He grinned and we rejoined the party. I left his reaching arms to mingle for a while and once the party ended — or ended for me — Damon dropped me off at my home. At eleven o'clock sharp, without as much as a disagreement or an improper retort, Damon drove the Camaro up the Gilberts' driveway. I dropped the crystal in his awaiting hand and hurried to the front door.

As the Camaro rolled away, I ventured into the hall, lured towards the kitchen by the soft humming of a woman. Finding Jenna in the kitchen came as a bit of a surprise (I'd thought she was still at college) and I waved slowly at her.

She waggled her fingers at me, before turning her attention back to her cell phone, her lips drawn back into a silly, little love-sick smile as she texted with someone. I'd say a male someone.

I liked Jenna. She didn't seem to mind when I acted differently from the Elena she'd known, and I left her and her phone alone.

She deserved a life of her own, a life away from the drama that was Mystic Falls, and I stalked upstairs, curled into the window seat and stared unblinkingly at Elena's cell phone, waiting for Damon to do what he promised.

To message me the contact information of the Martins. When it came, just before twelve o'clock, I grinned a bittersweet smile. Finally— Progress!

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Eight, Little Fires Everywhere

Warm golden rays shattered out over the wooden panelled floorboards, bathing my legs a warm olive. My skin tingled with warmth and I rubbed my fingers over my eyes. Sleep was hard to shake and I scrambled across the room and into the bathroom.

Turning the tap on, I held my wrists beneath the cold water and splashed some water on my face. When I was satisfied I looked awake enough, I caught the eyes from my reflection and stared. It was still incredibly weird having Nina Dobrev stare back at me, but I was somewhat getting used to the sight. Combing my fingers through my now damp hair, I fixed it up in a high ponytail. Returning to my bedroom, I dressed quickly.

I hadn't built up the courage yet to call Doctor Jonas Martin. I will admit, calling a virtual stranger, that was too weird. Even for me. Besides, I was worried about calling someone I barely knew out of the blue. What if Greta was still part of their family? What if one of Elena's parents barged in? But most of all, what if they wouldn't want to help me? Sure, for his daughter, I was sure Mr. Martin would try and move the world, but for me? I would be dispensable.

For all, I knew he would contact Klaus to exchange me, on a silver platter with the metaphorical apple in my mouth, for his daughter. Klaus didn't care much for humans — a few notable exceptions, perhaps — so I could only assume he would be more than willing to swab one with for one doppelgänger.

I had to play my cards right.

A glance at the bedside table had me groan. I'd never been good with time. Always running late and taking over Elena's life, that hadn't changed. Hitching my leather schoolbag up my shoulder, I descended the stairs quickly. Grayson had already left but Miranda was still there, making what looked like breakfast.

I had no idea what Miranda's breakfast cooking tasted like, but if it was anything like that one dinner she'd patched up when Grayson worked late and Jeremy refused to wait any longer, I would pass. Pouring coffee in my thermos flask, I snatched an apple from the fruit bowl and all but fled from the house, ignoring the 'Aren't you hungry, honey?'.

Unsurprisingly I was late for school. By the time I arrived, the school car park was full and I had to manoeuvre the SUV in one of the empty parking slots of the Mystic Grill. It was the closest free parking lot to the school, yet, it was still a good ten minutes walk, and by the time I reached the school grounds. It was probably just my luck I started the day off with History.

"Elena Gilbert," Mr. Tanner drawled annoyed when I tumbled into the classroom fifteen minutes late, "how nice of you to join us."

I almost groaned. I should have skipped this class all-together. Why hadn't I skipped History? I knew who was giving it. Rubbing my hands together, I averted my eyes to his shoulder, not looking him in the eye. Powdery clouds of chalk dust were floating around Tanner's shoulders and I clenched my jaws together. "Good morning, Mister Tanner," I forced out, "I'm so sorry I'm late. I overslept."

"You overslept?"

"Yes."

No, I thought, but if I don't have some stupid excuse for you, I'll probably be in detention till prom.

"Well, may I suggest you buy yourself an alarm clock?"

"Right, of course, Sir."

"Detention, miss Gilbert. I have been lenient enough these last few weeks."

I smiled tightly. "Of course, Sir."

"Take your seat."

I nodded stiffly and slumped down in the only available seat next to the window. Early-morning sunlight filtered inside in sharp, bright white prisms. I tried to calm my anger and sucked my top lip between my blunt front teeth and curled my fingers into tight fists. God and I thought I'd done at least one thing right in (accidentally) deriving Damon's psychotic murderous phase, but— I bit down on my lip hard. I knew that had been a horrible thought. Wishing someone dead in anger?

Truly disgusting and I shivered.

"Are you all right?" Bonnie whispered.

"I'm—" I started and forced my muscles to relax, "—I'm okay. Just angry."

"Yeah, you got Tannered, all right."

I nodded, drawing my tongue along my lips. "He's an ass."

"You say that as if it is a surprise."

"I'm always surprised by the new levels of disgust that man can bring me to," I muttered.

"Amen," Bonnie agreed.

I spent the rest of the lesson passing notes with Bonnie, dutifully ignoring both adoring, devoted glances from Stefan Salvatore and Matt Donavan. This trend continued during English class and once again I was struck with how lonely this school year would be.

I might have had Bonnie and Caroline to talk to, might have had the Gilbert family to talk to, but— not really. Pretending only did so much— Pretending didn't suddenly make it all right. I had been a quiet person. Out with friends— not so much, but at school, I was quiet and shy. I didn't make friends easily and I certainly hadn't been popular. Teenagers, more often than not, didn't like quiet peers in high school. So I had to pretend. Pretending was all I had here.

When English was let out, I parted from Bonnie and deliberately moved towards the library. Located on the second floor, the library was at the back of the building. During lunch, it was almost always deserted and I moved to the back taking out my cell phone. Honestly, it was now or never, and with trembling fingers, I scrolled through my messages until I found Mr. Martin's number. My finger hovered above the call button for a good few seconds before I pressed down and waited. The call was answered after a full minute and I held my breath.

"Hello, Doctor Martin's general practitioner, please hold." A bright peppy voice answered and my brows furrowed. The number to the general practitioner? Seriously? God Damn! Damon! What had he done, search the internet on 'Doctor Jonas Martin' like I had done and just decided one of the hits looked good to him? Clenching my jaw I inhaled deeply.

"Hi, I'm looking for Jonas Martin?"

"Doctor Martin isn't available right now. Can I take a message, or do you want to make an appointment?"

"Erm, yes?"

"What's your name?"

"Elena," I started before feeling my mouth go dry, "Thomson. My name is Elena Thomson."

"Miss Thomson, what kind of appointment can I make for you?"

"No," I tried and wetted my lips, "I mean can you give him a message?"

I didn't even know where this practice was located and I couldn't think of a reason to need a doctor for. The girl on the other end — I imagined she was blonde with dark-red lips and blue eyes — was doing something on her computer. I could hear her fingers run over the keyboard, probably looking my up as a registered patient and I sighed.

"It's about Greta," I said.

"Greta?"

"Yes, his daughter?"

The ticking had stopped. "I'm afraid I can't disclose any personal information."

I sighed. "I'm not asking— You know what, just ask him to call me on this number if he does have a daughter named Greta and wants to talk. See yah!" I answered irritably and ended the call. I could feel myself teetering on the edge of an explosion, even if I had little reason to do so and I cursed. I still had fifteen minutes left and I stormed outside.

I missed the times where I could just skip a class or two and take the bus to my favorite animal shelter. What I wouldn't give to go and take long walks with the dogs or play with the cats. God, I missed my old life. I even missed my college classes and my thesis advisors.

I would never deny that apart from the supernatural trouble, Elena didn't have a good life. She did. Even when her parents died in the car accident, she had her trust fund her brother, a nice, sheltering home. She had friends and prospects. Was it the happiest? Probably not, but whose life was?

The Klaus thing was a big problem and I knew there was something with the Doppelgänger curse too, although by then I had stopped watching the show. Not even all the YouTube scenes could fill me in of all the shit that would happen. But I was sure— it could be worse? It could be less worse though if the Doctor Martin I had called to was the right Doctor Martin. If he wasn't— I was going to murder Damon Salvatore.

"Elena," Caroline said as I stepped outside and almost bumped into her.

"Hello, Care," I greeted and listened half-heartedly as she babbled and babbled.

I leaned against the desktop of the park table and leisurely crossed my ankles. It was a warm autumn day and the rough wood surface of the table was digging into the backs of my thighs. Bonnie gave me a curious glance and I tried harder to listen to the conversation. Dana was explaining in a teary voice and flushed cheeks how her parents fought like cats and dogs.

Dana's parents, just like Elena's parents for that matter, had married straight out of high school. When they procreated Dana and her sister were born and for a while, to the outside world, her family seemed like they were living the American Dream. An illusion if Dana was to be believed.

"—And then, when my mom came home with the grocery shopping, she found him in bed with his secretary. I mean how obvious is that? It's like he's having a textbook mid-life crisis. That girl is only six years older than me. Six years! "

"I'm sorry, that must be horrible," I said in a slow, commiserating tone and Dana shrugged.

"My dad's disgusting," Dana grumbled, her cheeks flaring with heat, "Mom caught him in her bed."

Caroline snorted, drumming her manicured nails against the side of her empty coffee cup in a steady beat. "God, we get it, Dana. Men are disgusting."

"More than disgusting," Dana continued, obviously not noticing Caroline's derisive tone.

"My God," Caroline whispered as Dana continued with her 'cheating parents story'. I got a slight impression that Dana may have been bullied before. The way she flushed and nervously averted her eyes. The way she spoke in a self-taught arrogant way and the way she dismissed the things Caroline didn't care for, they were all text-book bullied preschooler signs. Every so often children who'd been bullied hid it beneath a thick layer of hostility.

"Erm, 'Lena?" Caroline suddenly said, cutting through Dana's continued story about her parents' divorce. She didn't look very sympathetic to her pained description of one of her parents' latest fights. "Stefan is looking at you. I think he wants to talk to you."

"He does?" I asked absentmindedly, following her pointed finger to the side of the car park, off to the left. Stefan was indeed there. Standing in the shadow of an enormous fir tree, arms crossed over his chest and hip cocked against the bonnet of his car. I almost groaned. I hadn't thought about Stefan's reaction to me accompanying Damon to the founder's party. "Great."

"He looks annoyed," Dana replied dryly and I gave her an annoyed look.

"It's his resting bitch face," I sarcastically replied.

"His resting bitch face?" Caroline sniggered and I shrugged.

"Yep." I agreed. "See you lot later." And with that, I jumped to my feet. Drawing my tongue along my lips, I clutched my jacket closer to my body in anticipation of what was to come. Moving closer, he slung his bag over his shoulder and tried for a smile. Tried being the keyword.

"Elena," he greeted.

"Stefan?" I tried, squinting at the way the sun was reflected off the windscreen of the car. Perhaps I'd imagined the moon's eyes during History. "Did you need something?"

"You and Damon," he started and for a moment I thought I noticed thin, almost unnoticeable spider veins pulsing around his veins. I stilled, my hands twitching. "What is going on between the two of you?"

"Nothing."

"What's going on between you and Damon?" He echoed harshly and I felt my face flush.

"Nothing!" I snapped back. There was a shiver of anger in the thrumming air and my cheek muscles ached from the strain of my jaws. Stefan looked ready to hurl something at my head and felt my shoulders tense. "Why would it be any of your business anyway?" I snapped and rubbed my temples several times, willing the headache building behind my eyes away. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Stefan."

"You don't understand. Damon is dangerous."

"That still doesn't mean you should get to tell me what I can and cannot do."

Stefan snorted. "Damon said something, didn't he? He likes to play games and cause trouble, Elena."

"This isn't about Damon, Stefan," I grumbled back. "This is about you not respecting my boundaries. Did I go to one dance with Damon? Yes, I did. Does that mean you get to give me crap about it? No, Stefan, it does not."

"I'm just worried," he replied defensively, "you mean quite a lot to me."

"Stefan, we're friends." I tried. "Just friends. I'm not planning on dating your brother."

"But—" Stefan started, looking ruffled, with the lack of a better word and I sniffed.

I wouldn't start dating Damon Salvatore, no more than I wanted to date him for that matter and I ground my jaws together. I curled my fingers tightly around the strap of my leather schoolbag. Besides, Damon Salvatore was hardly a suburban mother's dream boyfriend, nor was Stefan for that matter. Being vampires and all. I was still standing stiffly, probably looking very uncomfortable to all of the world and Stefan opened his mouth again.

"I didn't mean to overstep your boundaries," he tried explaining, "I just—" The shrill bell interrupted what he wanted to say next and in a rush of cursing under his breath, he turned away.

Beatific smile in place, I curled my tongue along my teeth. "I'm sorry, I have class. I see you later?"

"Sure," he muttered.

"Bye," I grumbled, curling my tongue along my teeth, I stepped past him and quickly made my way to the school building. My jaw slowly relaxed, even as I felt his gaze on me. His eyes following me, and I kept my eyes on the school building to avoid his glaring gaze, but it made me exceedingly nervous. Once inside, I reached for the pack of Tylenol in my schoolbag and popped two capsules out of the package and took them.

"He's so into you," Bonnie Bennett drawled, stepping up next to her.

"I'm not into him, though."

"I understand." She nodded.

"You do?

Bonnie fixed a smile on her face. "It's nothing."

"It is something," I remarked drolly and Bonnie fidgeted.

"It's stupid." She said as we pulled into the computer programming classroom.

"It's not."

Sitting down in the back of the classroom she twisted her fingers together, looking rather sick to the stomach. "When I touched him, I felt something bad."

"You felt something bad?" I echoed, feeling faintly amused. So she'd become witchy enough to pick up on his vampirism. "Is this a clairvoyant thing?"

"Witch thing," she corrected morosely and I smiled.

"I see. But you saw or felt something bad?"

"It's what I expect death to feel like," she breathed out and I licked my lips. Feeling my eyebrows furrow together, I curled my fingers tightly around the computer mouse. Did that mean, Bonnie would be able to pick up on me to if she were to touch me? It was an unwelcome thought and I stared at the screen monitor.

However, Bonnie had touched me during cheer practice more than once, which would suggest she hadn't been able to pick up on me. Perhaps, she couldn't at all. It wasn't like I was death or some kind of supernatural being (except for being the Doppelgänger), but— I shook my head. If she picked up on me, I would cross that bridge when I got there.

The final lesson of the day passed similarly as History had, with me and Bonnie passing notes. It made for a far more interesting class than the actual lesson and did a fine job of keeping me distracted from the Jonas Martin problem. I considered trying the practice after my last class again, yet, as Bonnie kept to me like a barnacle to a boat, I reconsidered. Besides, I still had cheerleading practice.

Sunlight crept down the roofs of the houses, I pushed into the locker room to change for Cheerleading practice. The day had been long and I felt annoyed and irritated. Curling my fingers tightly around the strap of my leather bag. Caroline had been in her element, as she always was, twirling and grinning, bossing everyone around. Practising tumblers on the grass field, synchronizing our movements to the point of perfection, and learning to be 'a tad sexier' as Caroline called it, I was quickly tiring.

My muscles were positively aching by the time practice ended. I dragged my feet over the earth, wincing guiltily when I noticed the dark muddy stains on the once-white cheer shoes. I guessed Miranda wouldn't like my shoes being ruined so close after purchasing them and robotically changed in the locker room.

The physical exhaustion was a welcome reprieve to my churning thoughts. Besides, there was little better than exhausted muscles after a good work out. Saying goodbye to both Bonnie and Caroline, I made my way to my car. When I reached the carpark next to the Grill, I gave a cursory glance up and down the street before unlocking the engine. You could never be too safe in Mystic Falls and I dropped in the driver's seat. Stretching my arms over the steering wheel, I squinted up at the sky, at the ruffled, multi-coloured, leafy tree cover.

The car park was flanked by full-grown trees, throwing dazzling strips of late afternoon light over the dark varnish of the car. The dirt on the windscreen shimmered and blurred in the warm orange sunlight. I had settled in when my cell phone rang. Searching for the BlackBerry, I fumbled with the old-fashioned buttons and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Miss Thomson?"

My breath got caught in my throat when I heard someone address me with my real name again and my fingers froze around the phone. "Yes?"

"What do you know about my daughter?"

"Mr. Martin?" I asked and, in case someone with super-hearing was listening in, started the car, bouncing my knee nervously. I had rehearsed my story carefully. Had watched my reflection as I forced out the 'how I know about your daughter' story, but now, for a moment, I drew a blank. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curled my fingers tightly around the wheel. "Jonas Martin?"

"Yes," he said condescendingly. "What do you know of my daughter? Do you know where she is?"

"It's a long story," I admitted and launched into the story I had rehearsed…

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine, Elijah

When it was starting to get dark, the sun starting to set, I had settled before the vanity mirror. Inky purple remnants of twilight provided an ominous backdrop against the houses. Breathing in hard, I did one last check in the vanity mirror above the desk.

My skill with makeup was passable, as was my skill with a curling iron, having managed to wrestle Elena's dark hair in beautiful ringlets. The make-up was tad sultrier than I'd normally go for, making me look a lot like Katherine instead of the doe-eyed Elena, but then again, that was what I'd been going for.

Adjusting the straps of my dress, evening out the lace over my shoulders, I turned around, looking at myself from a different angle. I was quite sure the short cocktail dress with the matching purse and the high heels I had to borrow from Miranda was kind of what Katherine would go for.

I'd even been smart enough to buy myself a necklace with a lapis lazuli stone, gleaming brightly in the late afternoon light.

My hand trembled ever so slightly when I let my fingers glide over the blue stone before shaking my head from side to side. Brown curls bobbing as I did so. Doctor Martin had sounded friendly enough on the phone. Initially, he'd been surprised that I'd known so much. Surprised that I knew Elijah and wanted to make a deal with said Original.

I guessed Elijah might even have been present with his witch at that point, listening to my voice — my familiar voice — as I told them what I wanted. I'd pretended to be Katherine. It seemed like a good idea at that moment. Perhaps, it wasn't. I couldn't be sure.

Staring at my reflection one last time, I inspected my perfect curls and nodded. I'd certainly looked decent enough. Desirable enough, which made my cheeks flush in embarrassment, and swallowing I shrugged on the most expensive autumn coat I had managed to find in Elena's closet.

It was pure luck it fitted so nicely with the rest of my outfit and, once Grayson, Miranda and Jeremy were settled around the kitchen table, having coffee with John, I sneaked out of the front door.

The drive was quick, I didn't have to look long and tucking my hair behind my ears — a curl springing back to its original position — I killed the engine, hoping the diazepam would keep my heart rate slow and steady.

I'd parked the Volvo halfway up the hill to the old cemetery, leaving the headlights on and breathed hard. An icy autumn wind roared around me ruffling the fallen leaves and I steeled my nerves, inhaled deeply and started the trek up to the old church.

The faint lavender hush before twilight gave me just enough light to find my way down the narrow path, past the tombstones and I crossed my arms beneath my breasts, venturing past the cover of the trees.

The path was worn, I didn't think it was an original path, just frequently used by those teenagers who liked to get drunk and high around here. Those same teenagers Damon killed in the not so distance future. I shuddered.

"Keep it together," I muttered under my breath and pushed my hands in my pockets.

In this reality, Damon hadn't gone after the druggy teenagers. I supposed if Stefan didn't lock him up in his cellar, Damon would probably not go on a murder spree throughout the forest either. Or I really hoped he wouldn't. Living through Damon's psychotic phase was something I could do without.

"That's it!" I and gasped when I noticed the old, creeper-overgrown stone wall, barely visible in the grey darkness. A wan moon threw a dappled tapestry of light over the large blocks of stone and I could almost imagine what it must have looked like once.

I could almost imagine a large church, high enough to top even the high thin trees around it, ablaze in the deep, dark night. Flames lapping higher and higher at the walls while the town's folk had surrounded it. In my mind, they were holding torches and pitchforks. In reality, they were probably holding wooden stakes instead.

Coming to a stop in front of the large structure, I craned my neck. Not much was left from the old town's centre, but the church ruins were recognizable enough and I circled the waist-high blocks of stone. It was a misstep, a lucky one, but a misstep for suddenly the ground gave away where the entrance to the stairway was hidden. Buried beneath one of the walls, barely visible, until my feet fell through the forest floor, I gasped.

I grappled for the wall, holding on tight before I managed to straighten myself. I peered down, eyebrows furrowed deeply, at the half-covered passageway. I couldn't see further than the fifth step took a slow step back. It was a strange place for a tomb, I supposed. Why burn down the house of God?

"Katerina."

I inhaled harshly, turning sharply. Even in the dim-twilight, I noticed his rigid posture, the tense set of his shoulders and I swallowed forcefully. Clenching my teeth together, I forced my nerves down and subtly let my eyes flit over him. I still couldn't get over the fact how weird it was to see all these people, all these actors in real life. Elijah was thin but with wide shoulders, brown hair half-long, his season two cut, I supposed. Noticing his dress jacket, the dress pants, shirt and tie, I felt the weird need to laugh hysterically and crossed my arms over my chest, swaying my hips to one side.

He remained where he was for a long moment, staring at me and my spine went rigid, upper body angling back as if that would do anything to safe me.

My eyes squinted, lower lids quivering, which I hoped was imperceptible because I was Katherine now. Just for a moment longer, for the off-chance he would ship me straight off to Klaus. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he stood before me.

From this close, I could see the angular facial features, the high cheekbones, his straight nose and his strong jawline. His hair was dark, parted at the side and his eyes were dark and eerily inexpressive.

"Elijah," I breathed out. The wheezing gasp escaping my parted lips without consent.

"Katerina." He greeted again and I inhaled sharply, eyes going as wide as saucers.

"I— you came."

"Hm," he agreed, eyes still cold. "That I did. Thank you, for having the good sense to be frightened."

"Are you still in league with Klaus?" I gasped out and I practically felt my mind whirring. In league? Really, that was what I wanted to know first? Well, it was what I wanted to know, of course, but, I could have voiced my question out in a less direct way. "I mean, would Klaus be willing to strike a deal?"

"Have you grown tired of running, Katerina?"

"That depends," I admitted.

"Braver then I remember." He replied dryly and I swallowed.

"There is a very simple reason for that." I decided. I should have gone for the Grill. I should have done a better job at overthinking this— I wish I could have called it a plan. It wasn't exactly a good one. The Katerina farce had obviously outlived its uses.

"Hm," he hummed one hand rising up to straighten his collar and I remembered that one hand was all he needed to behead someone and I took a step back, my lower-back hitting the church wall. "It seems to me you could use some long overdue punishment."

I gasped, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth and my step back sluggish, the heel sinking into the mud and my back hit the mossy wall hard. This was a mistake, a big one.

"I'm not Katerina." I gasped out, just as Elijah's fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

"What?"

"I'm not Katerina. I'm not a vampire." I admitted. "I didn't think you would have come if I'd told Doctor Martin I was some human girl who knew too much… I— I'm sorry."

His hand tightening so tightly around my wrist, I couldn't help the shudder then worked its way up my spine and the eyes that started to water in fear and in pain. The bones in my wrist ground together and I let out a pained whimper.

"Please, you're hurting me!" I gasped out and his mouth slacked open in surprise and his hand lowered, only a fraction, but I would take it. It took only a second to recover and slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned down. If my heartbeat hadn't been erratic before it was now and with his close proximity I could see the faint dust of stubble along his jaw.

He leaned in close, his hand pressing against my lower-back to eliminate any escape route, his nose brushing against my throat and inhaled deeply. I felt the warm air flutter over the delicate skin when he breathed out and he straightened suddenly: "Human. That is impossible."

"Erm, surprise?"

"Surprise?" He echoed his sharply angled face as blank and expressionless as before.

"Well, yes?"

"Who are you?"

"I—El— Elena Gilbert." I tried. Somehow, him knowing I was human, suddenly made me all the more afraid.

"Elena— Miss Gilbert," he greeted and I wondered if I should offer my hand so he could kiss my knuckles. Wasn't that good manners in the old times? Then again, he probably had accumulated to the twenty-first century well enough. Not trusting my voice I nodded in acknowledgement and flipped a curl over my shoulder. "I feel like you know more than you should."

"I do." I admitted.

"And yet, here you are."

"I was hoping we could talk— without violence, compelling or any other trick that would end in my blood being spilt." I tried, cradling my wrist against my chest. "I hoped we could— talk."

"Aren't you a little Miss Positivity?" he remarked lightly, amusement flickering over his face.

"Erm, I suppose." I hadn't known Elijah possessed even an inch of humor and blinked owlishly.

"Although, you are a little naive, aren't you?"

"No." I disagreed. "It was smart. It was only a matter of time before you or Klaus would come for me. Right now, I have a hand, a say into this. I like that better."

"Are you trying to negotiate with me?"

"Yes," I agreed and leant heavily against the mossy wall. My feet were starting to ache. I shouldn't have chosen heels to wander through a forest with. "I hoped you would be willing to negotiate with me. Because, I think that all of this could be done without the bloodshed and dismemberment and— whatever else you're willing to do to your little brother."

"Are you aware, what that little brother will do to you?" He asked slowly and I nodded.

"Yes. But I am also aware of what that little brother will do to everyone I know if I don't do this." I retorted, feeling dizzy and feverish with nerves. "I do not wish to watch over my shoulder for the rest of my life. I do not wish to be Katherine and I don't want to be used for your gain, much less for Klaus's. However, I am not naive enough to think I will be anything other than a chess piece in either of your hands."

"So what is it you want?"

"I want my life back," I explained.

"Your life back?"

"Yes. I was hoping your witch friends would be willing to try and help achieve that."

"Miss Gilbert," he replied darkly and I inhaled sharply.

"I— I don't think I explained it well."

"Perhaps, we should move this discussion somewhere less—" he made a face, "—uncivilized."

"I— The town has a mandatory curfew," I mumbled, "I'm not sure where you would like to take this, but the only cafe in town is probably closed."

"Mandatory curfew?"

"Yes. We've had problems with vampire attacks." I admitted. I thanked the heavens, he hadn't yet forced me along, hadn't yet swiped me away, which I'd expected. Of course, he could still try to do just that. I would not be a match. I just wasn't strong enough to fight him off and I realized what a stupid ill-thought plan this actually was.

Spots started to float around my vision as panic hooked its claws in me and I forced my breathing to remain even. Tried to think of something else to say. My mind came up blank and I shivered. The air was watery cold.

"You're terrified."

"I'm starting to see the nativity in arranging a meeting."

"Good." He told me and suddenly the world blurred around us. I belatedly understood he'd snatched me. Had taken hold of my upper-arms and used his vampiric speed to take me away. Had suddenly done what I'd been worried for. A pulse of dread shot through me when I hit the bonnet of a car and realized flabbergasted that it was my own.

"What?"

"You're even younger than Katerina was." He mumbled.

"I— I thought she was seventeen. E— I am seventeen."

"You're a child."

"Right," I mumbled.

He opened the car door and tapped his fingers against the chair in the passenger's seat. With a frown, my lips stretched into a thin line, I lowered myself into the leather seat and waited for the Original to take his seat behind the wheel.

Perhaps I should have told him off. Perhaps I should have fought him like the original Elena would have done. Like she did, when she stood up against him, and Katherine and later even to Klaus. But, I wasn't like Elena. Elijah held the car keys, my car keys, in his right hand, starting the engine. And then shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the street.

"Where do you live?"

"You're taking me home?"

I'd had thought I would have to beg.

"Niklaus doesn't know you exist yet. Taking you now would be just the same as sending Klaus a letter telling him I'd located the Doppelgänger." He told me and steered the car towards Clark Street. I knew he was lying and when I dared a peek into the co-driver mirror. Make-up had smeared around my eyes, bleeding out over my cheeks and my skin was so pale, it almost looked a little bluish. The similarities to Katherine couldn't have looked less clear. Elena Gilbert certainly looked like a child right now.

"I don't understand."

"Jonas mentioned you knew a great deal." He told me, fingers gliding over the dashboard until he found the button for the heater, turning it up until I felt my fingers uncurl. "I want to know how you know it." He finished, sending me a sideways glance. His pupils twitching and I thought he would try to compel me now.

"You can't compel me. I've been on vervain ever since the first attack," I mumbled. I wasn't sure why I mentioned it but watched his eyes flit towards the necklace around my neck, my body froze. "I mean, I drink it too. My parents have been spiking the tea ever since the first attack." It wasn't a lie. I'd noticed the scent of roses coming from the (mandatory) afternoon tea ever since the attack on the campers (the campers whose throats had been torn out).

"Miss Gilbert," he drawled, "I'll give you my word, I won't compel you."

"I've seen things," I tried. "I can't explain how, just, that I've— seen them," I mumbled.

The car turned into Elena's street and idled before rolling to a stop. I didn't have to tell him where I lived and I was only slightly surprised. I shouldn't forget it was the Original Elijah sitting next to me and I certainly hadn't. He turned towards me, his eyes were dark and hooded.

"You've seen things." He asked.

"Yes." I agreed.

"And what do you know?"

His eyes were so dark, I peered at him with fascination and terror combined: "I know your brother will come after me. I know what he wants from me and even what will happen to this quiet little town."

"And yet here you are."

"Again, I wish to negotiate my standing." I tried.

"Miss Gilbert the strategizing specialist," he replied dryly and sat back, intertwining his fingers on the wheel. "How unusual of a human you are."

"I try," I muttered and swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and almost painful. "Can I trust you?"

"Can you trust me?" He asked, openly amused now and I pressed my lips tightly together.

"I was hoping you would be— with honor and whatnot."

"I am willing to negotiate."

"You are?" I echoed and when his face remained unchanged I nodded. "Okay, that's good."

"Hm, good." He agreed dryly and I wondered if he was so agreeable because of my face.

Elena truly was a lucky girl, I thought sarcastically. She really had won the genetic lottery. The target of the affections of both Damon and Stefan as Katherine's lookalike. And the target of her magical blood by any and every vampire that tried to get into favor by either Klaus or Elijah. Honestly, why did I get stuck in the body of a Doppelgänger? Magical creatures that shared identical physical appearances and identical blood.

"Sweetheart, go to bed." He told me and he reached past me. I stiffened, my shoulders locking together and he breathed out slowly, opening the car door to the passenger's side. "As a token of my trust, I'll let you retire for the night."

"I— okay?"

"We will meet up tomorrow, during daylight. No need for the Katerina dress up, hm?"

"No," I agreed, spots floating around my vision.

"Where do we meet, Elena?"

"Erm, the Grill? Tomorrow for lunch?" I asked and he nodded.

He smiled wistfully and I remembered with a warming face that lunch meant something entirely else for him, then it meant for me: "That would be nice. See you tomorrow, Elena Gilbert."

I blinked, suddenly unsure and clambered out of the car. "I— see you tomorrow."

To be continued.

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Ten, Salt and Wine

Hitching my laptop bag more securely around my shoulders, I stepped into the Grill the next day just before the start of the afternoon.

Although it was sunny outside the Grill was dim-lighted and my eyes needed a second to adjust to the darkness. My hair was straight again, perhaps a slight wave to the ends, the left-overs from my previous hairdo and I was dressed in dark, tight skinny jeans and a pink floral sweater.

The noses of my sneakers scuffed and my shoelaces dirty. They were the most comfortable pair of sneakers I'd ever worn and wonderful for running (if only the idea of running would be helpful in any way).

Matt was waitering that day, holding a tray full of drinks. His face drew back in a pleasant smile and he came over almost immediately after I stepped inside.

"Do you need a table?"

"Ah, yes." I agreed. "I'd like one a bit more— quiet?"

"Oh, sure." He nodded and led me to one behind the empty pool table. At the bar, several regular patrons were drinking heavily, but none I recognized. I dropped down in the booth and intertwined my fingers together on the tabletop, my laptop bag a comfortable weight on my lap. "Do you think you could get me a coffee, Matt?" I asked softly. When Elijah came I really didn't need him to hover around my table. I had no idea exactly when he would turn up, which was why I'd brought my laptop.

Matt brought my coffee a few minutes later — 'There you go,' — and for a while, I stared at the dark liquid, swirling with white once I added coffee milk to a murkier brown. When there was no trace of Elijah twenty or so minutes later, I set up my laptop and did some mindless Googling.

Elena's history was full of fashion blogs, expensive dresses she liked and several artists she enjoyed. I was just scrolling through a blog from 'What Chuck Wore' (I harbored no illusions about my familiarity with teen fashion, but it seemed as interesting as any other) when the scrape of a chair jolted me back from my screen and my eyes were wide when I looked up.

Elijah was just as immaculately dressed as the last time I saw him, his shoes gleaming. I absentmindedly wondered if he polished them. Eyes flitting back up to his face, I tried for a smile. In the light of the day, he looked less dangerous, less Monstrously-Original.

"Hello Elena," he greeted taking a seat opposite of me.

"I— Hi." I muttered, shutting down the laptop.

"So this is what you normally look like?"

"Yes," I agreed, even at that moment I could see the irony of that comment, "this is what I look like. This is Elena Gilbert."

"Hm," he nodded, "Elena Gilbert the teenager."

"Yes." I agreed, before leaning forward. "You wanted to meet during daylight?"

"You seem more at ease in the light of day."

"Anyone would seem more at ease here than near a tomb full of starving vampires," I mumbled. "Knowing what I know about you, doesn't help either."

"Yes, what you know." He agreed. "How much do you know?"

"Obviously, I know who you are and I know about your brother, Klaus—" I started, frowning.

"And you know what my brother will want to do with you?"

"Yes," I agreed. "He needs to— drink my blood— all of it, to get rid of the curse placed upon him."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am." I agreed.

"Negotiating." He drolly replied and I gave him an unimpressed look.

"Yes, like I told you yesterday, I've seen things." I retorted. "I know that when your brother comes to this town, death will follow. Well, I can't blame that solely on your brother, but, I don't want to see this town go up in flames. I don't want to run and look over my shoulder for the rest of my life either." I continued, feeling tears start in my eyes.

I averted my them, blinking repeatedly until my vision cleared, but the remaining teardrops clung to my lashes. I inhaled deeply before I met his gaze again. "I'm willing to help you. Get back to you what you've been longing for so many years ago and try help your witches get their daughter and sister back. Although, I don't think Greta was forced to help Klaus the way you all seem to think, but— I will try. However, no one can know. My friends, my family even the vampires in this town. They can't know what will happen to me. What will have to happen to me? And I would appreciate it if my friends and family didn't get hurt while we're at it."

"You would die for your friends and family?" He asked.

"I would," I agreed, "but it isn't that simple. I know you found a way for the Doppelgänger to live."

He leant forward, his chin resting in his cupped hands, curiosity obviously roused: "Yes, I did."

"Would you be willing—"

"To let you use that?" He asked and I nodded, twisting the coaster between my fingers. "Yes, I would. I had always intended for Katerina to use it. I do not think you should die just for Niklaus' gain."

"You want to kill him." It wasn't a question. I knew he did, and perhaps if I helped him with that, I could let him do that. Without Klaus, things might have gone a lot easier, but then, many more people would die. Stefan and Damon would die, and even though I might have been unwilling to date either of them, I did not think they should die. Not that way. Not all the thousands who were undoubtedly sired to Klaus' line. "You might want to think twice about that."

"He killed my family— threw them at the bottom of—"

"No, he didn't," I replied, biting down on my lower lip hard. "He daggered them and now carts them around in coffins. I think because of your father? I don't know for sure."

"How do you know this?" He demanded, his hand shooting out so suddenly I didn't even have time to wince, but his fingers barely even graze my skin when they curled around my wrist. "Miss Gilbert, how do you know all of this?"

I smiled sadly, my hand trembling ever so slightly, "I can't tell you that. Besides, you wouldn't even believe me, even if I could tell you about it." His eyebrows drew together in confusion and then, his eyes flitting towards his hand on my arm. His mouth tightened and then he let go of my wrist, I buried my hands in the hem of my pink shirt.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"I—it's okay," I mumbled but kept my hands tightly fisted beneath the tabletop in my shirt. Elijah's lips suddenly twisted into an amused smile and I frowned. "What?"

"The blond waiter, is he your boyfriend?"

"Erm, no." And suddenly I understood. "He's my ex. What's he saying?"

"He thinks you're giving me— the sex smile?"

"Wow, well, if this is the sex smile, I'm unsurprised he hadn't noticed I wanted to end th—our relationship," I answered and Elijah smirked. "What?"

"He seems to think you look—"

"I don't think I want to know," I muttered. "Do we have a deal?"

"Right. You want to help me retrieve my family and go through with the sacrifice to trade your life for your loved ones?" He asked, his eyes gleaming with a light I would call interested and the intensity made me squeamish.

"Yes." I agreed before frowning. Was the situation so hopeless, I was okay with selling out my life (the only life I had left)? I stared at Elijah's hard face and swallowed. In anger, every vampire reacted impulsively. In anger, Elijah had been willing to kill kill his brother. I wondered how he felt about that, now he knew his family was okay. "What will you do now? I mean it has to be done here right?"

"Yes."

"And you need the moonstone."

He snorted, "Of course, you know where it is."

"I know geographically where it is. I don't know in which nook or closet it's hidden in," I explained.

"God, Niklaus is going to like you." He remarked.

"I hoped you could make Niklaus agree that if I survive, he will let me have a life. That I can choose to live however I wish." I explained. And that was the most important point. Getting to survive was probably easy peasy to a competent witch, but after Klaus learned he would need the Doppelgängers blood to turn werewolves into Hybrids, Elena's life would be over.

Which was why I needed his word. I had no idea how well Klaus would keep to his word, but Elijah would at least try. Besides, if Klaus would force his hybrids to do what he wanted again this time around, I was relatively sure the need for my blood would diminish.

"Where is the Moonstone?"

"The Lockwoods have it. I don't think they know what it is or what it does, but it's a family heirloom. Well, sort of."

"Mayor Lockwood," he muttered with a wistful smile, "and his lovely wife Carol."

"Yeah, Carol, how do you— Right, you've done your research on me and this town."

"Of course," he agreed evenly and I wetted my lips.

"Do we have a deal, Elijah?"

"Miss Gilbert, I certainly think we have a deal."

I shook his hand — I had a distinct feeling it was wholly for my benefit — and pressed my lips tightly together. The deal tasted heavy in my mouth, my stomach churning, because fuck, I actually made the deal that would (temporarily) cost me my life. Well, that would cost me my new life, if Elijah's magical potion didn't work. However, I needed him to make the deal. To get Klaus to agree to the most basic terms.

After the sacrifice, I would have a life. Even when Klaus knew he needed my blood, I would have my life and I would be in charge of my life. I wouldn't take myself out of the equation, I wouldn't let someone else decide over my own destiny if I could help it. But, I couldn't be like Katherine either. I couldn't be the reason all those people Elena knew would be slaughtered.

"Now what do you normally order here?" Elijah asked and I flushed embarrassed. I had no idea.

"Erm— curly fries? A burger? Milkshake—" I tried and frowned. Did they even have milkshakes?

"Hm, and what would you like?"

I hadn't eaten anything that morning. Anything last night too. I'd just not been hungry, but now— I didn't think I could reject his offer and subtly threw a gaze at the menu. "I guess, a hamburger would be fine."

Elijah nodded, beckoning Vicki Donovan to give his order. I watched Matt's older sister warily as she made her way over, hips moving almost in a sultry way. Her gaze was hard when stared at me — 'Elena,' — and I thought she too must think I was having a ravenous affair with a man a tad older than me.

A man who, if he hadn't been an immortal vampire, would face justice if he really did try and have an affair with me.

After all, Elena Gilbert was under the age of eighteen, which was the age of consent in Virginia. I guessed that was why the idea of me and him was so enjoyable. Small town but with a big love for gossip. Wonderful.

"I hope you understand that by tonight, the whole town will think you're dating me in secret," I stated, and he smiled.

"I've had bigger problems." His fingers barely grazed the back of my hand (when had I laid my hand on the tabletop again) and he gave me a derisive little smile.

"Stop giving everyone reason to believe it!"

His answering laugh was not how I expected it to be and with a face burning hot, I averted my eyes. The Grill was reasonably packed for the early afternoon and along the bar, several people were seated, sporting amber-liquid filled glasses.

My eyebrows furrowed together when I recognized the familiar figure of Alaric Saltzman. He was dressed in a dark button-up and dark slacks, his hair haphazardly combed from his face.

He looked bad (I guess he hadn't started drinking just because of Mystic Falls) and for a moment I stared at his haunched figure. He must have noticed my stare because suddenly, he twirled around on his stool and met my searching gaze head-on.

I wondered if there was something of Isobel Fleming in Elena's face because, for several moments, Alaric kept staring at me. Kept staring until I brought my gaze back to Elijah's.

"Who's that?"

"The husband of my biological mother. He just doesn't know that."

"You're adopted."

"You knew that already, didn't you?" I asked. "If you had the time to look into the Lockwoods, I expect you also took the time to look into the Gilberts."

"I did," he agreed. "The hospital has no birth certificate of you."

"I know."

And I did. I remembered the episode where Damon took Elena to Georgia. To visit Damon's witch friend. The episode Stefan told Elena about his stalking tendencies and whatnot.

I couldn't use that as an explanation, of course, and thankfully he didn't ask how I knew (perhaps thinking it was common knowledge or because 'I knew things').

Our food was served, two hamburgers, a basket of bread and another one with curly fries. I twisted my fork in the slight dusting of salad at the rim of my plate before slowly starting to eat the hamburger. It was all right, the bun fresh and the meat warm.

"The sacrifice. How do you want to do it?" I asked.

His chest rose and fell with a soft sigh: "There are several things I must attend to before the sacrifice can happen. The moonstone is one of them." He explained and I thought he also needed to locate his brother to make this happen. Or lure him in. I suppose luring him in with the slightest needling of the Doppelgänger's existence would do. I peered up again and stared Elijah straight in the eyes.

"And until then?" I asked. "What will you have me do?"

"I want you to do what you always do."

"I didn't expect that." I blurted out honestly. "I thought—"

"That I would tear you away from everything you know?"

"Yes."

His eyes flitted over my face and I wondered who he saw. His first love or Katherine? Both loves ended badly. From the series, it had gotten abundantly clear that Elijah's associations with any doppelgänger was or ended in a problem. He was either a catalyst or the damnation to their fate. I wondered— and ended that line of thinking.

"Elena, I plan on keeping my word. I will acquire the potion. I will present your deal to Niklaus."

"And then?"

"Then, when I speak to Niklaus I will make him promise to leave your loved ones alone, and if you find a way around your death, he would let you live." He remarked dryly.

"Okay," I mumbled and polished off the rest of my burger.

"I am still surprised you would willingly let yourself be sacrificed," he told me and I shrugged.

"What else could I do?" I asked, picking at the remainder of my fries.

"You could have done what Katerina did." He told me seriously and cocked his head to the side.

"I could. I might even have been able to make up a story about not knowing what I was destined for." I agreed and pressed my lips together. "But— I've lost people before. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Especially not the way Katerina lost her loved ones." I continued. I couldn't help the slight jab at him either. I knew he missed his siblings. Knew that for years he'd thought they'd been lost in the depth of the ocean, but he did have a hand in murdering Katherine's entire family. I wasn't going to forget that. "Don't get me wrong. Katherine is a manipulative bitch, but back then, she was just a girl."

"Katerina betrayed me." He told me coldly.

"No, Katerina was a scared little girl who ran," I remarked. "If I hadn't known the things I do, I would have done just the same."

"I don't think you would have." He told me softly. "Brave, caring little girl."

My cheeks warmed and I shrugged. I wasn't brave. Or at least, I didn't think I was. If I'd been brave I would have gone in search of Klaus. I wouldn't have involved Elijah— And caring— I was pretty sure countless girls would be unwilling to let so many people die. I bit my lip.

"One more thing—"

"What?"

"Your favorite doppelgänger wants to trade me and every other ingredient for Klaus' sacrifice for her freedom," I started and my heart rate picked up, "I know you think she wasn't punished enough but—"

"You want me to grant her her freedom?"

"Well, yes." I agreed. "Or at least to stop hunting her. She won't have to run and hopefully, she won't try and turn people into vampires or trigger someone's werewolf curse."

I didn't want Caroline to be turned into a vampire (not the way she was in the series) or get hurt repeatedly because of it (by those werewolves and later her father).

I didn't want Bonnie to lose so much (even if Sheila was not exactly a pleasant person to me) or even Tyler (who in the series I'd never really liked). I didn't want Jenna (or a different parental figure) dead— I bit my lower lip hard.

"I will keep Katherine away from Mystic Falls."

"Okay," I agreed. I supposed that was the best I could get and took a long sip of my milkshake.

"How did you get here?"

"My dad dropped me off. He thinks you're helping me with my History homework."

"Your History homework?"

"I thought you would be good at that," I remarked dryly and Elijah smiled. He nodded before leaving money on the table. He jerked to a standing position, straightened the lapels of his jacket and offered me his hand. I let him tug me to my feet and we both moved towards the Grill's exit.

"How did you find out about vampires?"

"Television," I muttered and this time he did laugh.

"Right, you've seen things." He agreed and led me to his car. "Let me take you home."

"I still can't believe you're taking me home again."

"I am. And you will go about your usual activities."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, dad."

Ten minutes later, I watched the taillights of his black vehicle disappear in the distance. I didn't know what kind of car it was, but it was black, sleek, and expensive.

The sun was hanging low in the sky and Grayson smiled at me when I returned home. Miranda wasn't there and I ascended the staircase quickly. I'd gotten comfortable enough around all of them, however, I often still felt I was intruding. These people, smiling at me and touching my face with the kind of parental love I'd once had with my own mother, were thinking I was someone else. They didn't really love me. They loved Elena. They had a history with her.

I nodded at Jeremy before retreating into Elena's bedroom. My legs felt heavy with exhaustion but, I wasn't tired. I couldn't sleep. So instead, that night, I curled up the window seat with Elena's laptop, continuing my mindless Googling.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Eleven, A Game of Trust

I woke early to a steady rain drumming against my windows, my cheek pressed against the cool glass. Outside looked grim, grey and dark, lights flashing by with every passing car, making a soft phishing sound and I hadn't been able to fall asleep again.

I had curled up on the window seat with several pillows propped up behind me, laptop balancing on my knees. Without much to do, I'd been Googling information for my History assignment, when suddenly curt, even squawks pierced through the air.

A bird pecked insistently on a windowpane and I almost dropped my laptop off my lap. It was large, dark and it was either a raven or a large crow. I highly suspected the latter and stared at it as it pecked its beak against the glass of the window. My brain slowly started piecing things together and my eyebrows rose.

"Damon?" My eyebrows furrowed together and carefully I slipped on a long vest and my slippers and tiptoed out of the house.

The trees in the backyard swayed in the slight wind and rain clung stubbornly as fat drops to the foliage around me. Peering up into the stark branches, I made out the black shape of a large crow. I was quite certain it was the one I'd seen before and I cocked my head to the side.

"Damon?"

The bird cocked its head to the side, looking at me with beady eyes and then — the sudden rasping caw made me wince — it launched off its perch and lurched forward. Flapping its wings, it soared in a downward arc disappearing into the darkness between two trees and then Damon suddenly appeared, stepping out onto the wet grass.

It was almost as if he'd materialized out of thin air and I bit on my lower lip.

"Elena."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, wrapping the long vest tighter around my body.

"I saw you today." He replied breezily.

"Oh?"

"At the Grill."

"Oh," I grumbled and I felt my face blanch ('shit') and plucked at a loose thread.

"Yeah, 'oh'." He agreed. "A sacrifice? You and old-and-creepy are planning a sacrifice?"

"It's none of your business, Damon," I grumbled.

"Planning your sacrifice. Believe me, that is my business." He snapped.

Breathing out harshly, I looked up at the inky smear of the night sky, dotted with dark, swirling clouds. The dewy grass was starting to saturate the hems of my striped pajama pants and I stared down the wide slope of velvet lawn.

My hair was hanging loosely at the base of my skull, fluttering in the slight wind, and Damon— Damon remained standing in front of me. He smelled distinctly of alcohol and I swallowed. Or I tried to.

"Damon, why do you even care?"

"I don't," he was quick to assure, too quick and I frowned.

"Then why—"

"Why does that guy want to sacrifice you?" He snapped irritated.

"It doesn't matter, Damon," I sighed, "it has nothing to do with you. It's— you could say it's me fulfilling my destiny. It's inescapable and there is nothing you, or anyone else for that matter, can do. I can't do anything about it, Damon. The best I can do is to let it all happen on my terms."

"Because some guy is cursed?" He snarled and I flinched.

"Damon—"

"He won't have anyone to sacrifice if—"

"No! Damon, I mean it, no!" I gasped understanding his reasoning immediately. "You can't turn me!"

"If you want to die so badly—"

"I don't. Damon, I don't. I have no choice. You don't understand." I tried, my heart speeding up, gut-clenching in dismay. "And you're not going to. I'm sorry. I don't understand why you'd even want to? You have your girlfriend…"

"You knew, didn't you?" He asked and my heartbeat sped up until it felt as if it was trying to escape my ribcage, my fingers twitching. Damon pretended not to notice. I could tell. His eyebrows rose and his eyes wandered from my face, flitting down my neck and skimming over my collarbones. I ignored the urge to clap my hand over my fast beating carotid artery.

My heart was beating erratically and I tucked a fluttering lock of hair behind my ear. What did I know? I assumed this was about Katherine. I assumed he'd learned she hadn't been in the tomb and something akin to pain swirled through my stomach. "You knew."

"Is this about—"

"Katherine!" He growled and sped forward, kicking over the Adirondack chair and the side table. It made a dull clunk when it hit one of the trees, splinters of wood spraying over the grass, and for a moment, he had his back to me. Breathing hard, shoulders quivering, he slowly turned his head towards me and I met his eyes from across the lawn. The next sentence sounded broken, "You knew Katherine wasn't in the tomb. You knew. And yet—"

"I did." I agreed softly and his face twisted in anger.

"And you didn't—"

"No, you don't understand. If I'd told you she wasn't there, you wouldn't have believed me."

He snarled, "Oh, so now you're an expert to what I think and feel?"

"No!" I mumbled. "No, that's not fair. You wouldn't have believed me, and you know it. You would have thought I was trying to drive a wedge between you and her. You wouldn't— And why would you? The only connection I have to you is the face I wear. The face of your past love."

"Why?"

"I— I can't say," I mumbled.

Katherine's story was Katherine's. Not mine. The Doppelgänger who'd thought she was courting a Lord. Who'd thought she'd found a way into high society, yet instead, Klaus and Elijah had been preparing her for the sacrifice.

It wasn't my story— It wasn't my life.

Her actions had unknowingly condemned her to a life of forever looking over her shoulder and running. In the beginning, she had been an innocent but at some point transformed into a manipulative bitch doing anything she could to survive. Then again, I doubted anyone would come out fine and dandy after someone murdered your entire family.

"I'm sorry, Damon."

"Yeah, sure." He hissed, voice hoarse and scratchy, and for a moment I thought he would come for me. Would take hold of my head and crack my skull open against the hard wall of Elena's house. My feet slipped onto the moss-covered ground and I trembled.

"I am sorry!"

And I was. I hadn't wanted him to be hurt. Not really. I didn't think it made up for all the horrible things he did. Would do, but— I glanced up again and he was gone. I licked my lips, blinking through the dim-darkness. It couldn't be too far off sunrise and I turned around sharply, hurrying back inside.

The house smelled faintly of the sickly saccharine Marijuana and when I passed Jeremy's room, my shoulders locked together. The scent was coming from the crack beneath his door and I wondered absentmindedly when he'd started smoking. Then again— some things you couldn't change. The door of my bedroom shut quietly and I slid down the wall.

I took a shuddering breath, tears burning in my eyes and it took me longer than it would have normally taken, for me to remember the sodden state of my muddy pajamas. I swallowed, with difficulty, and twitched my nose. I didn't sleep at all the remainder of that night, feeling far more guilty than I should have.

When morning arrived, it had stopped raining, dim light pouring in through my windows. I dared one look outside to find out the world looked cold, grey, and washed out and I breathed out harshly before pulling the curtains closed again.

Even closed the fabric let enough light through and I made quick work of dressing myself. I opted for a pale button-up, deep-blue denim pants, and a dark-blue bomber-jacket. Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I rushed down the stairs and breezed into the kitchen, smiling when Grayson and Miranda greeted me, instantly moving over to prepare a thermos of coffee. Grayson was sitting on a stool at the kitchen. I almost ran straight into Miranda as I rushed to the door and swung it open.

"See you tonight," I called in an afterthought, just before stepping outside and shutting the front door behind me. The ground was still damp from the night's worth of rain, but the sun scattered through the leaves of the trees, illuminating my hair with undertones of gold and red.

I'd managed to keep the shorter strands out of my face with a wide, white headband. I felt a bit depressed, my bag slung carelessly over my shoulder. I got into Grayson's car (who had a day off) and drove to school with a bit of a chip on my shoulder.

During the time with Elijah, we'd agreed for me to go about my daily activities as I used to. It surprised me. I'd expected him to drop me in his car and take me away, not drop me off at Elena's house and tell me to live (for the time being) as I usually do. However, going about Elena's usual routine, I did.

I parked the car in the school lot and trudged wearily to the school grounds. The glass of the double doors at the entrance twinkled and the air was chilly. I wrapped my coat tighter around my body, pushing inside. Half-way along the corridor, I realized I was tiptoeing and I snorted.

I was losing my mind a bit. I hadn't expected Damon's insinuations either. He acted like I gained enjoyment out of his pain (I didn't; I really didn't), but perhaps him not believing me, wasn't the only reason why I hadn't told him. Perhaps a part of me had thought him focusing on Katherine while I contacted Elijah was easier. I didn't know. It hadn't been a conscious decision.

However, I was surprised, Damon seemed to care for me. And he shouldn't. I'd been so careful with Stefan, I didn't think I'd even given Damon an opening at all.

"Elena?"

"Hi Bonnie," I greeted and stuffed my bag deep into my locker.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just slept really bad."

"Oh," Bonnie smiled, her lips creating a pained, tight line.

"Just, a bit of stress for the upcoming tests." I tried and Bonnie nodded. She wasn't believing me.

"Of course."

"I'm sorry, I haven't been a better friend to you," I whispered and Bonnie's eyes widened.

"You're a good friend." She told me.

"No, I'm not." I disagreed. And I wasn't. Elena hadn't been either. She tried, I supposed, but in later seasons, she really wasn't such a great friend at all. And Bonnie— she always forgave Elena. She always remained the loyal best friend. I swallowed. "But I'll try better."

"Oh Elena," Bonnie whispered and threw herself forward, arms twisting tightly around my neck.

"Bonnie?" I asked when she drew back. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course!"

"Without asking me what it means?"

"I— why?"

"Please, Bonnie?"

She looked reluctant, but after several seconds nodded: "Okay, fine!"

"Can you tell your grandmother I will deal with it?" I asked.

"What?" Bonnie's eyebrows furrowed together.

"Don't ask." I reminded her gently although I didn't doubt she wouldn't ask her grandmother.

Sheila Bennett could decide what and what not she would tell her granddaughter. I wouldn't endanger her any further. I wouldn't involve her in Elena's problems. Bonnie's grandmother had been right about that. I would have chosen my family over some random girl too. And that was the problem, wasn't it?

I was a random girl to everyone when it came to it. I would remain a random girl to everyone because who in their right mind would believe me? But— that was okay. I dealt with it. I would deal with it. When the sacrifice was done, I could disappear and if Klaus would find me, the deal would at least protect me a bit.

Or, I hoped so. Perhaps, I should seriously consider becoming a vampire and guzzling down vervain from the moment I transitioned. I could disappear (write Elena's parents; let them know what I was and why I couldn't come home). I could do that—

"Let's get to class."

"Right," Bonnie agreed, yanking her books out of her locker and clutching them to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie," I told her. "I know there never were any secrets between us. But I don't want to lie to you either. Please, just trust me."

"I trust you, 'Lena," she told me unwaveringly. "You know I do right?"

"Of course." I agreed.

It didn't matter though. I was not going to involve her. Smiling at her and lightly gripping her shoulder, we parted ways. I had Geography first up that morning, while Bonnie's first class was Chemistry. I ventured through the hallways at a brisk pace and easily found the classroom on the second floor.

Given by the mousy haired Flora Smith, it was an easy class. Easy going and level-headed, Flora made her subject fun and always spoke about it with enthusiasm. I yet had to fail one of her assignments or tests.

The same couldn't be said about French. My second class on Thursday and even worse, a double hour. In the French classroom, I settled at my usual spot behind Caroline.

She didn't react when I greeted her and my eyebrows furrowed together. I'd gotten used to her bubbly exterior and her often mean way of mentioning I wasn't very good at French, but she didn't even look up when I leaned forward and tapped her shoulder.

When she turned a watery smile my way, I noticed her red-rimmed eyes. I didn't know Caroline. Not really and had no way to guess why she was upset. I subtly roved my eyes over her neck, the deep décolleté of her blue dress but found no marks, inconspicuous discoloration's, no anything.

I didn't think Damon had gotten to her. If he had, she wouldn't have been able to tell the tale. She would have been dead. I was quite certain about that. When he gets upset, as Elena said 'he lashes out', and violently.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I tried and her face turned thunderous.

"I told you I'm fine, okay, Elena?"

"Okay," I mumbled, holding up my hands in defense, "I'm sorry for asking."

She muttered something in return, turning to her books, and, reluctantly, I did the same. Although I'd gotten proficient enough at the language to not fail every test I got, I was still not a star at it. Distracted by Caroline's weird behavior I was even less of a star at it, but I didn't get the chance to call her out on it till lunch started.

When class was let out, I grabbed my belongings, stuffed them haphazardly into my bag, and quickly made my way to the cafeteria. I absentmindedly selected a bowl of stew, a styrofoam cup of tea, and plonked down next to Caroline at one of the tables.

Stefan and Matt were quick to join us and for a moment I stared with wide eyes at the two boys. Or, more precisely, at Stefan.

However, if I'd thought Stefan knew about my deal with Elijah or the talk with Damon, I was wrong. Even with his posture tense and stiff, his back ram-rod straight, he acted normally. If anything, his expression was a bit more expressionless than normal, but that didn't have to do with me. Not at all.

Stefan didn't speak to us, he was silent in his moody-not-there way, but the hairs on the back of my neck still stood on end.

Averting my eyes, I ate slowly, trying and failing to start a conversation with Caroline. I considered that the real Elena probably knew how to interrupt Caroline without getting snapped at and getting the answers she wanted. Chewing on my stew, not really tasting the probably bland taste, I watched Caroline with narrowed eyes. The blonde was acting odd, eyes flitting over the table, without really looking—

It hit me suddenly. I wasn't sure what it was that finally made me realize what made Caroline act the way she did, but suddenly my mouth slacked open. It wasn't me she wasn't looking at. It wasn't me she was upset with. She was forcefully not looking at Matt's way.

Pressing her lips in a tight white line whenever Matt's eyes briefly met hers. Adjusting her collar when he spoke in that easy boyish way of his. Honestly, why hadn't I noticed before? She was developing feelings for him (just as she had in the original timeline) and I almost laughed. Matt would be good for Caroline. Once, he was ready to admit he too was attracted to the blonde control-freak.

I had no idea when that would happen, of course. In the original timeline they started dating after Damon so cruelly told Caroline she was a waste of space on Stefan's birthday. Which was somewhere in November, so for them to start circling each other in that awkward teenage way of theirs was still a bit early.

Cradling the styrofoam cup between my hands, I turned my attention to Matt. He was speaking animatedly about the football practice, explaining something to Stefan I was probably not even meant to understand but so far the unsubtle or subtle side glances to Caroline were barely there yet.

I'd known Matt had never really liked Caroline Forbes. If I'd had to guess he'd mostly tolerated her because she'd been Elena's friend and could be nice if she wanted to, but was also really intense. Perhaps—

"Elena," Stefan suddenly asked and I almost choked on a spoonful of stew.

"Yes, Stefan?" I grounded out, rolling my fingers over my throat.

"Are you okay? You've been quiet."

"I'm fine." I shrugged.

"She fucked up French," Caroline supplied helpfully and I glared at her.

"I wasn't the only one, was I?" I asked drolly and Caroline shrugged, sharing a small smile with me.

"Do you want to come with me to get the new cheer routines?" She asked suddenly and I blinked.

"Erm sure," I agreed readily and pushed myself to my feet.

I gave the boys a halfhearted wave before falling into step with Caroline. It was strange how well I knew the school now. How easily I navigated through the throng of students and out of the side door, onto the sports field. Our steps were brisk and the wooden stands on the sports field still damp. My hair brushed against my cheeks in the breeze and I pushed my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans.

"So, what did you want to say to me?"

"Do you still not want to date Stefan?"

"Erm, no."

"Could you please make that absolutely clear? Because he is not getting the message," she sighed.

"What do you mean? I literally told him I just want to be friends and nothing more!"

Caroline shrugged, twirling her hair, which she wore into a low ponytail to the side of her head, around her fingers: "I know, but he still acts like your future-husband. It's really awkward."

"Fuck!" I snapped, kicking a pebble away. "Why can't he just respect my wishes?"

"Elena, he's a teenage boy. No teenage boy respects anyone's wishes." She told me glumly.

"Right," I agreed, because when had anyone ever really respected Elena's wishes when they went against theirs? It made my head hurt. It annoyed me. Most of these decisions were already a difficult decision to make, I really didn't need other people meddling into them.

Especially not while I had everything neatly arranged. Or as neatly as possible. It was already taking everything I had to not fucking run. Run until the trees and the ground and the always-blue-sky would just blur together. I wanted to scream— Scream and fucking scream! Not add to all those curling thoughts the feelings and wants of Stefan Salvatore—

It took me a second to collect myself. A second to push it all deeply away. "I'll tell Stefan again if I have to." I started and smiled at Caroline, my cheeks hurting with the strain. "So, what about other boys? What is happening between you and Matt?"

"Nothing—" she started but then seemed to think better of it, "—well, he stayed over."

"When?" I asked, genuinely curious. I'd truly hadn't thought Caroline and Matt would be more than friends until after Halloween. After the whole ordeal with Vicki Donovan at the back of the high school. After she died. "How?"

"After my birthday—" she explained and I felt my cheeks flush, I hadn't known she'd had a birthday recently.

"Which I forgot, right?"

"I know you've been a bit out of it, Elena." She murmured. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I'm so sorry!" I whispered and she gave me a small smile. Perhaps sensing my genuine regret and we settled on the bleachers. I plopped down next to Caroline with a small sigh, drawing my knee up to lean my chin upon.

"So, last Saturday, when you and Bonnie were a bit preoccupied and my mother didn't even wish me a happy birthday, I was a bit upset. Drank too much and Matt took pity on me. Stayed with me all night." She admitted before flushing. "Don't get me wrong. Not like that. We just laid back, eating— well, I can't remember what. But we didn't do anything quite like what you are thinking— I'm sorry is this weird? Should we be discussing this? He was your boyfriend not so long ago."

"It's fine, Care. Matt and I are over."

"Really?"

"Yes," I agreed and nodded, "I think you and him would be wonderful together."

Her smile was wide and beautiful and she threw herself forward, hugging me closely. Her blonde hair tickling my nose and her grip was strong. Much stronger than I'd expect from her. I rubbed her back as she gasped against my neck. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," I replied.

When she drew away, staring out over the football field, my eyes were drawn to the side. To the edge of the field, several oak trees reached for the sky. Their branches fluttering in the breeze and a dark shape half hidden by the thick, rough bark.

When I squinted for the figure— it was gone. I had no idea what to think. I had no idea if the figure had been a friend or a foe. Everything surrounding Elena Gilbert always seemed ominous and I gave it a little more thought that afternoon—

To be continued…

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello everybody,

And welcome (back) to this story.

o.O.o

Chapter Twelve, Halloween

Every year the Student Council held a Haunted House at Elena's High School. And every year the students dressed up and would party hard.

The Haunted House, a fund-raiser that would use the money they raised for new school supplies and sport's gear. Which was fine, but I hadn't realized how persistent Caroline Forbes would be. I should have realized that Caroline would seize any excuse to sign up for another committee.

Another project (since she liked those) and that was fine but now I was a project too. Because, besides signing herself up, she'd signed me up as well. Which was why I was in charge of the preparations of the snack stands, while Bonnie made sure the carnival games went well and Caroline was in charge of the decorations. And she had been in her element, the walls and classrooms decorated to perfection.

I wasn't looking forward to it. Not really. I wasn't a high school girl any more and although I could party if I really wanted to, I just didn't bother with that behavior any more.

The fun of sneaking in drunk or sneaking out to get drunk, it passed. Yet, that evening of Saturday the thirty-first, I stood in front of Elena's vanity mirror, my fingers pinching a wand of mascara. It was a party to distract me from my churning thoughts.

Elijah had still not contacted me and I was starting to get really nervous.

The white nurse costume that I'd decided to wear for the party was spread across Elena's bed. It's still on the wire hanger and I wondered if I should wear it. It hadn't brought much luck to Elena. It had been the dress she wore on the latest Halloween party. I just didn't have anything else to wear. Nothing appropriate for the occasion and I let my fingers glide over the costume.

I remembered the blood that would stain the shoulder, the collar and the side of the pristine white material. The sun had only recently descended, leaving behind inky purple remnants of twilight, cool air filtering in through the half-open window.

The towel I'd wrapped around my shoulders dropped on the floor when I sat in front of the vanity mirror, choosing to let Elena's hair dry into its natural straight state. It worked well for her.

I took the stairs two at a time when I was done and waved at my parents. An empty bottle of Miranda's chardonnay and a half-full bottle of port stood in the middle of the kitchen table. I supposed I wasn't the only one having a party that night.

Jeremy was staying over at a friend's house — recovered enough to spend time with friends and smoke marijuana — and with me, at the Halloween party they had the time for it. I snorted. Elena was the flashy, wild party girl.

I thought I should at least try to act like that. At the party, I found myself a red cup of beer in my hands and stalked through the school. The decorations were fine, the snack stands filled obnoxiously and the games were loud. In the Chemistry classroom, I noticed Bonnie, dressed as a witch, talking softly to Tyler Lockwood and I smiled.

"Bonnie!" I yelled, hurrying across the room, she turned to me with wide eyes and somehow her expression wiped my smile clean off my face. "I— Are you okay? Something wrong?"

"No!" She hurried to deny. "No, I'm fine."

"Really?" I started but she just smiled, it was painfully obvious she was lying and waved her hand to the door. "I'm sorry, I promised Marlene to meet up. See you later?"

"I— sure?"

"Okay," she nodded and practically ran out of the chemistry classroom.

"That was weird right?" Tyler Lockwood mentioned and I took a long sip from my lukewarm beer.

"Weird seems to be a thing for me," I answered.

"Sucks, I guess."

"Profound," I replied drolly.

"Bonnie is probably just stressed," Tyler tried half-heartedly. I guessed he wasn't that much of an arsehole I gave him credit for. "Something about Caroline bailing…"

"Caroline bailed?"

"I don't know. I guess?" He shrugged and I wetted my lips. I really wished for something stronger than beer. My eyes were drawn to the ugly scar on Tyler's neck. The white puckered skin harsh and somehow a stark contrast to his otherwise tanned skin. "How have you been doing?"

"Wonderful," he drolly remarked. "My parents certainly enjoy setting up some ground rules."

"You were grounded?" I asked stiffly. "Because you pretty much beat my brother into the hospital?"

His nostrils flare as he clenches his jaw, "Yes," he agreed, unapologetically. "That's right."

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

"Does everything need to have a reason?" He asked, his expression was uncharacteristically solemn.

"I think so," I responded irritably. "Seriously, Tyler, you're so— easily upset lately."

"Why do you think?" He snapped back, vein forking beneath the skin of his temple and cheeks readily gaining a dark red color. "Some monster attacked me. An animal! And I don't fucking feel safe! Why do you think I lose my temper? Hm? Or does Saint Elena never do anything wrong? I mean other than being a cocktease, you're a virtuous saint. You already reserved a spot in heaven. God—"

"Shut up, Tyler!" I snapped back. "I'm not saying I'm perfect. I'm trying to understand."

"There is nothing to understand." He hissed.

"Yeah, I see that now," I replied unkindly, noticing the strong alcohol scent coming off of him.

"You see nothing."

"I see that you're doing really well with it," I replied giving him a saccharine sweet smile before turning away. God, Lockwood was an even bigger arsehole now than he was in the original timeline. I understood he was scared— Hell, I was scared half of the time and with every minute Elijah didn't contact me, it became worse, but I didn't try and punch someone a concussion.

I noticed Bonnie at her locker, her eyes locking onto mine from beneath her thick dark fringe, but before I could cross over, she was already gone, winding around the crowd too fast for me to catch up with her.

I wondered if her grandmother had finally spilt the beans. I had no idea if I liked that idea or not. If Bonnie knew then she would definitely try to solve Elena's, and in extension, my problem.

I did want my problem to be solved but— Somehow I felt as if it was useless. As much as it pained me, I didn't think Sheila had been wrong.

For a while I ventured in and out of the classrooms, stared at the students dressed up either really well or really funnily and finally, I ended up in the gym. The music here was the loudest and the gym was absolutely packed with students, everyone yelling over the blasting sound.

To one end, where normally the gym banks were settled, a string of holiday lights was strung up. Beneath, a made-shift podium was built, decorated with fake spiders and cobwebs. Caroline had hired a photographer and now every now and then a couple climbed the stage and grinned outrageously at the camera.

Dana and Chad had collected beneath the holiday lights, looking lovey-dovey as the camera flashed. I watched as Chad tucked a strand of Dana's dark hair behind her ear and rubbed his thumb along her jawline, so obviously, in awe of her beauty, I felt my cheeks flush.

I used to have a boyfriend who would visit me at my dorm room at college, taking with him a bottle of fancy red whine he nicked from his father's wine cellar (which was supposed to be for his parent's twenty-five year anniversary) or who would take me to the movies.

I bit my lower lip hard. We'd broken up before I'd stranded here, but that didn't mean I didn't miss him. We'd decided to remain friends. I averted my eyes from the couple and steered around the gym.

I smiled at several students, most of whom I now knew by name (first name at least), and realized, not for the first time, that Elena could join in into any conversation. Being Miss Popularity ensured that.

I conversed with several people when I felt the need for a breath of fresh air. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I stepped out of the gym.

The hallway was quieter than before and my body relaxed. I quickly moved out of the school and breathed out gratefully when I ventured outside.

The dark sky providing an ominous backdrop for the slope of the empty football field and its bleachers and my hair brushed lightly against my forehead in the breeze. A lungful of fresh air, just what I needed.

"Elena."

And my body tensed again. Wonderful, just when I managed to relax for a second. I slowly turned towards Damon Salvatore's voice. He was seated on the lowest bench of the bleachers, wearing dark jeans and a snug-fitting motorcycle jacket. Loosely hanging from his fingers is a bottle bourbon and I steeled myself.

"Hello, Damon."

"Still alive, I see?" He remarked drolly and I rubbed my hands together.

"Yes." I agreed, picking at the sheen of pink nail polish.

Damon went still. The music was fainter outside and I leant down against the railing. "What are you doing here, Damon? Aren't you a bit too old for a high school party?"

"Are you kidding?" He sniggered. "A high school party is the best place to get some dinner."

"Don't be disgusting," I grumbled back and frowned.

Damon smirked, dropping his arm from the bend of his knee and turned so that he could meet my eyes. His lips quirked in a smirk, "I'm a vampire. You should not forget that."

I had to swallow my next breath and wetted my lips, "Duly noted." I stared several seconds to him, to his hunched figure and kneaded my fingers over the hard tendons in my neck. "How are you doing?"

"Wonderful. Just found out the girl I did everything for didn't care."

"I'm sure—"

"Don't bother. Just, don't—" He sneered, his arms crossed over his abdomen and I let out a sigh.

"Jesus Damon," I grumbled and matched his defensive stance. "Don't act like a fucking child."

"Oh Honey, I am not here for you." He grinned. "I'm only here to watch the show."

"What show?" I asked, my whole body tensing at his words. "What did you do, Damon?"

"Why do you think I did anything?"

"When do you not?" I shot back furiously and watched all color draining from his face.

Damon's jaw tensed, his eyes blazing with a sudden, white-hot rage, "You should be very careful, human!"

"What did you do!?" I snapped and cried out when he grabbed me by the upper arms.

"You don't get to order me around, you little—"

I gasped when he shook me hard, hard enough to make my teeth rattle together. My knees were starting to buckle, my fingers going to his hands, nails biting into his flesh, "Let go of me!"

"Damon," a third warning voice demanded and I recognized Stefan annoyed tone.

"Stefan," Damon greeted and with a pout, he suddenly, harshly shoved me away.

I yelped, stumbling backwards and collided almost painfully with the first row of the bleachers. Damon looming menacingly over me while Stefan had somehow appeared beside him, a restraining hand on his shoulder.

Spidery veins (I'd never seen that in real life before and stiffened) crawled beneath Stefan's eyes and I realized, belatedly, that small pinpricks of blood welled up from an abrasion on the back of my hand. I inhaled sharply before pushing it hard against my side, hiding it against the pristine white of my costume.

"Leave Damon!" He snapped when the veins disappeared from his face.

"By all means Stef, save your damsel." He grinned and breathed out slowly and brushed a lock of frizzled hair from my cheek. He was gone by the time my eyes opened again after one blink and I forced myself up my feet, ignoring Stefan's outstretched hand.

"Are you okay?" He muttered and I shrugged.

"I'm fine, Stefan."

"You know, don't you?"

"About you and your brother?" I asked, pushing the initial bombshell pointlessly away.

"Yeah," he agreed and I wetted my lips, my mouth dry with sudden nerves.

"Yes, I've known for a while."

"How long have you known?"

"From the moment you both stepped into town," I whispered and finally met his eyes. "What did Damon do?"

"Nothing, as far as I know of."

"Stefan, he did something— Where's Vicki?"

"Vicki?"

"Matt's older sister," I mumbled and frowned. "She's a drug user— He must have stumbled upon her in the cemetery just as—"

"What are you talking about?" Stefan asked with such a deep frown he looked years older.

The moonlight danced across the grass field and I quickly turned back towards the school. My fingers already fumbling with Elena's phone and once I'd managed to find Matt's phone number, I pressed the device between my shoulder and cheek. His voice sounded cheery when he answered, perhaps even mistaking my urgency call for something completely different.

"Hi 'Lena," he greeted and I could imagine his smile.

"Hi Matt," I gasped, forcing my voice to sound somewhat normal, "do you know where Vicki is?"

"Wha— yeah, of course, she's at the party. You can't miss her. She came as a vampire."

I cursed softly and assuring Matt everything was fine (just stubbed my toe) I ended the call. Stefan was still hot on my heels as I pushed inside the school again. The music was loud, vibrating through my bones and trailing over my skin. I ran a hand along my neck as I quickened my pace. When I pushed through a set of doors, I almost ran straight into Bonnie Bennett.

"Wha— Elena?"

"Bonnie!" I gasped back. "Hey, erm, have you seen Vicki Donovan?"

Bonnie's mouth settled into a pout and her green eyes flashed suspiciously. "Why?"

"I think something really bad is going on!" I whispered.

Somehow my urgency must have sparked her worry. "I— I don't know."

Avoiding a group of drunken seniors, I tried to remember what else had happened in the Halloween episode. Vicki had lured Jeremy to the bus stand, trying to feed on him.

It was also where she was staked to death. Where black veins had littered up her bare shoulders and her hurt brown eyes had met Elena's. I supposed it was a good place to start looking and made a sharp turn side exit.

"Elena—," Stefan started but his voice got caught in his throat, "I smell blood."

"Oh my God! Where?"

"What is going on, Elena?"

"I don't know!" I snapped back. "But knowing your brother, it won't be good. Where does the smell come from?"

"You should stay here."

He was gone the next second and I cursed so foully, several students turned their heads towards me. It didn't bother me the way people staring should bother a teenage girl and I quickened my pace.

Beads of sweat were lining the crown of my forehead. Fear, distress, it made my breath come in quick pants. Tripping over an empty beer bottle, I stumbled onto the bus park, the asphalt ground damp beneath my comfortable sneakers.

There was no one. Large parts of the bus-park were cloaked in shadow, but even so, I found nothing. No blood, nobody, no vampire. Just— Nothing.

The sky above me resembled that of a broken television, dark, with the sporadic forking tail of lightning. It was quiet, almost too quiet, but I could hear creaking from— I wasn't sure really. I didn't think I cared either way and moved through the parking.

Exhaling loudly, I ran my fingers through my hair and dug up my cell. I could try calling Damon, demand what the fuck he did and where he did it, but— he wouldn't tell me.

Telling me would probably take the fun out of it and I cursed, placing the phone on the bonnet of one school bus, raking my fingers through my hair.

I didn't have a different plan and— A scream tore through the air, high and shrill and horrified. It made the hairs on my neck stand up on end and my heart skipped a beat. Truthfully, a scream didn't have to mean anything during Halloween. It probably didn't, but I still hurried in the direction of the sound. It led me into the school's crowded carpark. When another scream cut through the cold air, I finally was able to locate it.

Away from the main street, barely even visible from the front of the school, the visitor's parking lot was dimly lit. My heart was beating wildly when I wound around two closely parked cars. I'd never parked my car at this part of the car park before (most students didn't use it, especially not with the recent attacks), but with the party still going, it was full of cars. Even if it was almost empty of people.

I wasn't sure how I knew, or why I looked towards a cluster of chestnut oaks. I only know that when I looked, something drew my attention. I strained my eyes. Across the car park, clearly silhouetted against the light of a nearby the lantern, a figure was hunched over one of the cars.

I neared slowly, my feet slipping on the damp, scummy pavement. I could hear the rushing of something and the hollow echo of the music from the party, and someone was whimpering. However, from my vantage point, I couldn't tell who it was. I guessed a female — Oh God, Vicki — but her face was thrown in darkness.

"Please, don't— Care— I don't."

"Caroline?" I echoed, suddenly noticing how familiar the silhouette was. "No, it can't—"

But it was. I got close enough, ventured around the car and into the light of the lantern, to see clearly. Blood, rubble and ash was scattered across the broken bonnet of a light Prius. Caroline frozen, her face whipping towards me. She'd been holding onto someone.

A someone who'd fallen to the ground and I recognised Bonnie sprawled on her back and bleeding, only a second later. My brain whirled to a halt and a chocking panic seized me. My blood pounded in my ears and I just— I didn't understand. This— It shouldn't be this way. Caroline looked breathless, the in her eyes red receding and the whites slowly returning.

"Elena?"

It was like she woke up from a haze and my stomach churned in horror. Blood was dribbling down her chin landing between her collarbones and on the purple corset she wore. I curled my fingers tightly around the wrought iron bannister surrounding the carpark (I hadn't even noticed stepping up against it), shivering at the cool metal against my fingers.

"How?" I whispered and looked up to see Caroline's wide and dark eyes. "Since when?"

"You know what this is?"

"It's hard not to," I gasped, my eyes briefly meeting Bonnie's alarmed expression.

I had never known a dark-skinned person to look so pale and this sickly before. Admitted, she didn't turn ashen as so many light-skinned people but she looked horrible nevertheless. And she was bleeding. At an alarming rate too.

"Elena?" She whispered and I pushed past Caroline, falling to my knees beside her.

I barely even felt the gravel scrape open my knees, as Bonnie's body fell forward. I barely even caught her, my arms winding around her waist. There was so much blood and it was getting worse. Pillowing her head on my lap, I pressed my left hand against the gaping wound on her throat.

It did little, and my lips trembled. I wasn't a doctor (had never aspired to be one), but even I could tell something major had been hit. Bonnie's right hand had come up to envelop mine, squeezing. It was beneath my clammy flesh that I felt the limb grow colder and colder.

"We have to do something, Care," I forced out, meeting her eyes slowly, "she's bleeding out."

Caroline's face was whiter than white, the blood so dark against the flesh it looked like ink, "I couldn't stop myself!" She gasped. "Oh my God, I couldn't stop. Oh my God—"

"You can't lose it now!" I gasped. "We don't have so much time."

A quick glance at Bonnie confirmed that last statement. She was still losing blood. Too much really and my hand was slipping over the wet, gory surface of Bonnie's neck. Her eyes had fluttered shut and her breathing had turned shallow. She was catatonic, limb and if I did nothing— I looked up at Caroline again— or where Caroline had been standing, bloodied and monstrous. Her blood could heal her (if she calmed down enough that was). However, she was gone. As was my brief window of opportunity— just gone.

I had never seen anyone die. I'd never been there when someone took their last breath and when Bonnie's breath, her last breath, stirred the fine hairs on my lower arm.

She'd opened her eyes, perhaps somehow a reflex to having your heart take its last beat and half-lidded eyes were staring up at the sky unseeingly. Her fingers slacked around mine and the limb dropped to the ground. Bonnie had stopped breathing.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, she's dead," I whispered horrified and somehow the words coming from my lips made it all the more real. I felt around for my phone, smearing more blood over my nurse costume, but I couldn't find it.

I was sure I had it and I had to forcefully swallow my quickly rising panic. I wasn't doing a wonderful job and it became only worse when a car drew up beside me. Even worse when I recognized that car and I turned furious eyes at the window.

"You!"

The car window rolled down, revealing Damon's dark wavy hair and his large black sunglasses (why was he even wearing those now) and I seriously considered lobbing a stone at his perfect car, hoping it would at least leave a nice dent in the unblemished car's paint job.

God damned monster. Fucking parasite. Murderer. His smile was crooked when he stepped out, his eyes derisively cold. "Hello, Elena. Fancy meeting you again."

"You did this," I whispered. I'd laid Bonnie's body gently on the ground and got to my feet. "You!"

Without thinking twice, I slapped him hard across the face. His face cracked to the side and his cheek blossomed pink beneath the dark red smudge I'd transferred there. It was only satisfying for a second though, as Damon slammed me hard against the bonnet of an SUV. Trapped between the unforgiving metal of the car and his body. He had both my wrist pinned above my head.

"Really, Elena?" He mocked and I tried to kick him where it would hurt most. "That's a very stupid thing to do. What do you think you could honestly do against me?"

"Let go of me!"

"Sweetheart, you mistake me for someone who cares." He drawled coldly.

"People die around you! How could that not matter?" I spit.

"It doesn't," he told me coldly.

I kicked out at his shin. "Let go of me, Damon!"

Sneered Damon did just that and my wrists fell to my sides. "Why did you do this?" I finally asked.

"I'm a vampire. This is what vampires do. Because that is what is normal to us."

"So you ruined Caroline's life and Bonnie was killed, for fun?" I snapped.

"No," he grinned and leaned in so close his breath fanned out over my cheeks. So close, I noticed the splattered dried blood specks on his grey button-up.

He raised a hand to my face. I tried to avert my face when he mockingly brushed a stray lock of hair away from my cheek, smiling sinisterly. "No, Elena Gilbert, I did that entirely for your benefit."

A sudden bout of anger and fury spurred me on and I drew my hand back again. And again my hand cracked across his face. Tears were already rolling down my cheeks and my stomach heaved violently. I fully expected for Damon to hit me back now, especially with the way the black veins littered beneath his eyes.

I might even have preferred it. Preferred him hitting me hard enough to take me out. To let blackness ebb at the edges of my vision.

To have an escape from what was now my nightmarish reality. It didn't happen. Just as he drew his hand back, something fast and blurry entered my vision and Damon flew across the car park. He hit a car so hard, it rolled over and I blinked owlishly.

Elijah stood before me. Even with his back to him, I recognized Elijah Mikaelson. He was in one of his suits, back ram-rod straight and hair combed back. "Damon Salvatore. Baby-vampire turned in the nineteenth century." Elijah greeted.

"Old-and-Creepy," Damon greeted.

I looked at Bonnie again. I no longer cared if Damon lived or died. He was a monster. He was even worse than Klaus. Somehow the show had humanized him. Somehow, I had forgotten how bad Damon had been in the first seasons.

"She's dead," I whispered. "She's dead just because—"

"Damon Salvatore turned his emotions off."

"What?"

"That's what you did, didn't you, little boy?" Elijah drawled. "Turned it off?"

Damon's smile was cruel. "Are you here to punish me for it? Oh my— Poor me."

There must have been something in Elijah's face that triggered his self-preservation. Something that made him take a step back and, in a blur, disappear. I felt something snap inside me, my cheeks burning with anger and incredible heat. With a scream, I kicked at the car. And I kicked at it again, and again, and again—

Until Elijah yanked me away. I hated this. I hated this world. I hated Damon. I hated myself. Everything was so muddled. Everything was blurring together. My thoughts, my feelings, even my reality and I was breaking. I didn't think I'd ever been so angry, so furious, in my entire life. And I didn't know what to do with myself. So I screamed and kicked and bit and tried to get Elijah to let go off me.

He didn't. And I struggled against his arms until my energy hit zero. I sagged in his grip, tears still running down my cheeks. Everything was so muddled— everything I did went so wrong. I actively tried to stay out of Damon and Stefan's way, tried to keep Elena's friends safe by not getting involved with them. And how well did that go— How well did I do—

Caroline was a vampire.

Bonnie was dead.

And I was still stuck inside Elena's body. There was still a steady ache coming from the abrasion on the back of my hand.

There was a first-aid kit in the kitchen.

There was a shower at my home, where I could wash off all the blood.

There was a room where I could hide.

It just wasn't enough. My mind had become a barren, lonely, and unfriendly place. A lonely destructive place, where I had to consider keeping Elena's friends and family safe.

Where I was planning my own sacrifice (which, if everything went right, I would survive) and now it was the place where I could only wallow in self-pity and guilt.

"You'll be all right," Elijah said and surprisingly in every feature, I noticed raw pain.

"No, I won't."

"You will. This isn't your fault."

"This is my fault," I whispered and acid worked its way up my throat. "He did this to spite me."

"Damon's actions are not your own, Elena," Elijah said.

"No," I agreed softly, "but none of this—"

"I should have kept a better eye on you and your own."

"What?" I mumbled, wiping my face gracelessly.

"I gave you my word to protect your family and friends." He whispered. "This shouldn't have happened."

I smiled wryly. "No, none of this should have happened. It didn't originally, but well, I fucked everything up." I mumbled and stared at his face. I couldn't take any misguided retaliation. Any form of lying to my face and I steeled my nerves. I guess you never knew how strong you were, once you had no other choice. "Did you get into contact with your brother?"

"He doesn't know you're alive yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I still need the Moonstone, Elena." He told me and guided me away from Bonnie's body.

"We have to call this in," I whispered. "She can't just disappear. She can't!"

"We will."

He pretty much locked me in the backseat of his black Mercedes and did as he said. Called the cops. I remained in the backseat of his car. Remained there even as Liz Forbes and Grayson Gilbert arrived.

I supposed they'd been together that night (maybe even at a Council meeting) but I didn't care. I just couldn't care about Grayson's feelings at that moment.

I couldn't think about the fact that although I might have saved Elena's parents, I'd not been able to do anything to save her friends. My lips trembled when a stretcher, a white cloth hiding Bonnie's limp body, was loaded into an ambulance and I squeezed my eyes shut.

The shriek of the police cars and the ambulance almost painful to my ears. I had to do something— I just didn't know what anymore…

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Thirteen, Dark Omens

Weeks passed in quick succession and the temperature dropped gradually, my sweaters and turtlenecks got thicker, my coats longer. November brought a surprising cold streak, leaves whirling to the ground and ice crystals clinging to the foliage. Caroline was spending the majority of her time with the Salvatore's, or with Stefan Salvatore.

Just like in the original timeline he was the one helping her gain control, but unlike the original timeline, she'd been turned a lot sooner. And by Damon instead of Katherine. Or at least by Damon's hand instead of Katherine's.

Worse even, without anyone to guide her, without anyone specifically looking for her, Caroline lost control. I could only imagine what it was like when you had no one to turn to. When you had no idea, what was happening to you? What it would feel like to be responsible for the death of your best friend?

I knew how I felt— and it was horrible.

Bonnie's funeral was held on a chilly, sunny Wednesday afternoon. The trees surrounding the cemetery weighed down by orange-red leaves and Bonnie's grandmother and father had been in tears.

I'd half expected Sheila to call me out, perhaps not in the middle of the graveyard, but I still expected her to ask, how this was possible.

I'd only realized later that day, with the absence of prying eyes and low whispering, that Sheila probably knew. Knew who'd killed her granddaughter.

Or perhaps she didn't— or perhaps she didn't blame me the way I blamed myself.

Either way, that Saturday, three days after Bonnie's funeral, I went to visit the Salvatore boarding house.

Stefan and Damon's house was only ten minutes away from Elena's. Taking Miranda's silver Volvo, I drove fast, not even slowing down once I neared Wickery bridge. The huge wooden structure an imposing sight and the river beneath wild and swiftly flowing.

I had Googled the boarding house, memorized the lanes I had to take once I passed Wickery bridge. Which was a good thing, because the small dirt roads all looked the same around Mystic Falls.

Slowly, I steered the car onto a series of dirt side roads. The neat suburban neighborhood bled into foliage, the streets now surrounded by crowding red-and-yellow trees. The branches of the trees were backlit by the late afternoon sun and I steered the car onto the private gravel lane leading to the Boarding House.

Dust kicked up by the car and drifted after the Volvo like a cloud of fog. I parked the car at the intersection in front of the house. The grass was well-kept and the red-brick manor huge.

The house was surrounded by a wide stretch of gravel and bordered on every side by the copse of large bristly conifers. I nervously rolled my shoulder and then crossed my arms over my chest, venturing past the cover of the trees and into the sunlight.

The gravel crunched beneath my feet and I let my eyes glide over the large building. Red brick walls were covered with creepers and large cathedral windows shone in the afternoon light.

On the sunny porch, beside the front door, two large stone lions were placed. I reached for the knocker, my mouth stretched out into a tight line but as my fingers tightened around it, the door swung open.

"Elena," Stefan whispered, his eyes wide and surprised.

"I wanted to see Caroline," I told him matter-of-factly.

"It's not really a good time, Elena," he told me softly, "she's not doing well."

I almost snorted. "Of course, she isn't, Stefan," I grumbled, "how can she be? Just— how long do you plan on keeping her locked in here? And with Damon— no less…"

"Damon is- Not a problem right now."

"Your brother is always a problem." I sneered. I couldn't help it. I blamed him for everything that happened last Halloween far more than I blamed myself. And that had gotten only worse over the last few days. "Is the arsehole home?"

"—No."

I gave him an unimpressed look (he was definitely lying) and with a small, guilty sort of smile, Stefan stepped aside. I took a cautious step inside, moving inside the house. Seeing it on the show was entirely different from seeing it in reality.

Even with my apprehension and irritation fresh on my mind, I couldn't help craning my neck. Dark wooden pillars reached out into a vaulted ceiling. The floors were covered with expensive looking rugs and still wide-eyed, I rounded a corner, following Stefan into the living room.

My eyes widened even more. "Wow."

The living room was huge. It followed the theme of the hallway, with the dark, dim lighted theme. The floors were covered with rugs and a huge stone fireplace dominated the room.

The mantle, richly detailed, stretching out all the way to the ceiling, from which two large chandeliers descended. Two red sofas with a matching set of stuffed high-back chairs and an antique coffee table were centrally placed above a richly detailed rug. It certainly was very lavish, and I wetted my lips.

Stefan shrugged in that awkward way of his. "It's— well, it's home."

"That's one way of saying it," I agreed.

"You can wait here, Elena," Stefan explained. "I'll get Caroline."

I nodded, perching on the edge of one red sofa and pressed my numb fingers between my knees. Stefan disappeared through a doorway off to the left and I stared at my feet. At the scuffed noses of my old sneakers and absentmindedly listened to the sounds of the house.

"Really," an incredulous voice sighed, and I whipped around to the newest arrival.

Zach Salvatore, sharing the same build and psychic as Damon but then with blond curly hair, stood in the open doorway to the right.

I'd forgotten all about him. I'd forgotten about him living at the Boarding House at the beginning of the show. I'd forgotten about him being killed by Damon when Caroline had let him out of the basement jail Stefan had locked him up in.

I swallowed, "Oh, erm, hi?"

"I can't believe this. What am I the shelter for lost vampires?"

I laughed at that, "A shelter for the Undead? I suppose that fits well enough. Although, I'm not a vampire."

"Zach," Stefan mumbled, appearing into the living room again.

"Stefan", Zach retorted, the lines in his face still tense.

"That's Elena Gilbert, she's not - "

"Oh," his face relaxed and he gave me an apologetic look, "Grayson's daughter."

"I— yeah."

"My apologies, Elena." He muttered.

I shrugged, "It's fine."

Caroline ventured inside the living room as well, making her way over. She looked around expectantly, waggling her fingers at me. "Hi, Elena."

"Caroline," I whispered, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and her gaunt skin, "you look - "

"Horrible?" She finished, carding her curly loose hair over her shoulders.

"I didn't expect you to look like a beauty queen after everything that happened."

She frowned. "I'm okay." She still looked unconvinced.

"Can I hug you?" I asked slowly and Caroline turned wide eyes at Stefan.

"It's okay, Caroline. Just think about your breathing exercises."

"Breathing exercises?" I asked. Stefan made vampirism sound like yoga.

"It keeps her steady and calm," Stefan said by way of explanation.

I nodded. "Okay, well, it's okay, Care. I know you won't—"

"Don't say it— I couldn't stop myself from—" she let out a sob and shook her head. "—I couldn't stop myself from attacking Bonnie! What will stop me from ripping out your jugular, hm?"

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No!"

"What happened with Bonnie?" I asked, gripping her hands and yanking her down beside me.

"She fell, and when her blood— I couldn't— Her blood was— I can't— I can't do this!"

"Hey," I whispered, "Hey! You were all alone with this. No one is blaming you."

"I am," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, "I just don't know what to say to make you feel better."

She shook her head, tears, bright and brimming, clung to her eyelashes. I couldn't help her. Not really, but I still wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. Caroline returned the hug after a few seconds and I leant my chin atop of her head.

It was somewhat uncomfortable as Caroline's body was a lot stronger than Elena's. And as upset as she was, her grip on me was tight, my bones shifting and grinding together.

I let her, it seemed like the right thing to do and after a while, Caroline's shoulders stopped shaking.

"Do you think Bonnie hates me?"

I blinked stupidly and only belatedly realized she must have learned about the other side, "No, don't think she hates you. I think she watches over you. That she understands now what happened."

That must have been the right thing to say because a small smile tugged her lips up, "Thank you."

"Did Sheila contact you?" I asked, turning to Stefan.

"Sheila Bennett? You think she would?"

"I think she's proficient enough in witchcraft to come after you", I stressed.

"I haven't seen her." Stefan mumbled.

I nodded and turned to Caroline again, "Don't worry. I don't think she'll go after you. Perhaps after Damon."

Caroline's expression turned dangerous, "One could hope."

I nodded in agreement. One could hope. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking, Stefan never venturing far away. Zach remained where he was as well, settled against the bar. He looked much like a football fan following a difficult football match.

At some point, Stefan seemed to think that was all Caroline could take and with an apologetic look, he pulled Caroline up to her feet and led her away, leaving me with Zach. I reached down to redo my laces and got to my feet.

Caroline had looked slightly better, no longer as stressed as before and I watched Stefan lead her out of the living room.

Zach straightened his back fingering a decanter of bourbon on the bar and turned to me with a frown. "Do your parents know you - "

"No," I muttered and peeked out the window at the forest sloping down the hill behind the manor.

"Then, how do you?"

"Journals. My family kept journals."

Pouring himself a generous portion of bourbon, he turned fully towards me. "You read them."

"And connected the dots? Yes. Although, Damon is hardly being subtle about it." I frowned.

"Of course, Damon," he sneered.

"Where is Damon?"

"In the cellar. Some old vampire guy delivered him at the front door two nights ago."

"Elijah?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing together in an expression of gentle bewilderment.

"He wore a tux."

"Yeah, that's Elijah all right." I agreed and felt a tiny smile tug at my lips. "Can I see him?"

"You want to see Damon?"

"Well, no, I want to rub it under his nose, that he's locked in a dungeon and helpless," I admitted.

I expected Zach to deny my request. I expected him to refuse to let me go near his great-whatever- -uncle. He didn't. Zach's mouth only thinned into a sharp line and he gave a short nod, beckoning me to follow him out of the room.

I opened my mouth, but Zach shook his head, tapping his index finger at his ear. I nodded in understanding. Right, vampires had super hearing.

Hitching my bag up my shoulder, I followed Zach out into the hall and slipping through a door beneath the dark-wooden stairs heading upstairs.

Our feet beating against the stone steps echoed dully through the damp air. I held my breath, my heartbeat accelerating the closer to the even floor I came and when we stepped on the concrete floor, I subtly looked around.

It didn't look much like the dungeon I'd thought it would and after a twist or two, I kept my eyes firmly on Zach's back, afraid tripping over something or even getting lost in the maze under the house.

I took a shuddering breath, just as we'd stepped up in front of two cells. Two huge wooden doors with small barred windows (without glass). This part did look like a dungeon.

"Hello, Elena."

Zach stepped aside, grimacing at me, and I stepped up to the first cell door and peeked through the bars.

"Damon." I greeted, eyeing him angrily.

He was dark-grey button-down shirt and pair of matching dark slacks, sitting against one wall, one arm looped over his bent leg. His skin pale, deathly, waxy white, but his eyes were still alive. I almost recoiled at the violent intensity that still shone in them. Almost.

"Why, come to visit the inmate?" He asked, his lips already twisted into that ever-present smirk.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Zachary," Damon drawled and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Leave him alone, Damon. This is your own fault."

"Is it?"

"You killed so many people— and you know, I could understand if it was solely for feeding. I could understand the need to survive but you hurt, maim and kill for your own enjoyment." I whispered, staring him down. "This— being stuck in here, is definitely your own fault. It's what you deserve."

Damon's face twisted, shoulders tensing. Ready to snap, ready to pounce and fight. His eyes blazed with an unfathomable hatred and he sped over, colliding hard with the door.

I gasped, backing away, almost losing my balance and for a moment I could only stare at his furious face pressing against the bars of the window.

Damon had never looked less human, "You and Katherine— you can both go to hell!"

"Right," I agreed, "you hurt Caroline to spite me. Because I didn't tell you about her."

"Right," he echoed mockingly.

"So, I thought, let me enlighten you why Katherine wasn't inside the tomb," I said.

"Oh, I know why she wasn't there. She double-crossed me."

"No, Damon. She didn't care enough." I remarked coldly, ignoring the guilt churning in my stomach.

"Didn't she?"

"No," I whispered and took a step closer to the cell. "She always loved your brother more. You were just the added bonus. When faced with the choice between you and your brother, it will always be your brother. I hope you understand that."

"You are a lot more like her than I gave you credit for."

"And you are just the funhouse-reflection of the monster beneath our beds." I smiled horribly. "You lack purpose, acting like a psychotic toddler. You know, I used to feel sorry for you. Used to think you didn't deserve what Katherine put you through and although I somewhat understand why she would run, I didn't think you deserved to go through the pain of betrayal."

He snorted— I ignored him.

"That was why I didn't want to tell you. Why besides not thinking you'd believe me, why I wished to spare you from the pain. Now, I don't. Now I hope you rot." His lips pursed into an annoyed grimace, his eyes flashing, but I didn't let him have one-word in. "I hope you'll think of Bonnie every day for the rest of your life. The rest of your life locked up in here."

"Well, isn't that—"

"I was not done, Damon," I sneered, "I had one sentence left. Go to hell!"

And with that, I twirled around nodded at Zach and climbed the stone steps two at a time.

"Was that really necessary, Elena?" Stefan asked, waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

"He deserves it." I shrugged and moved straight for the front door.

It was a cloudy fall afternoon, but the light of the setting sun still bright enough to dapple through the trees and over the gravel path as I made my way to my car.

The foliage around me blazed orange and crimson and I clambered behind the wheel without another thought. The engine roared alive and I steered the car out of the Salvatore's private lane and onto the road without another glance backwards.

It was dark once I drove my car into Maple Street, leaves rustling up from the street when I parked the SUV in front of the Gilbert residence. No lights were on in the house and the car door made a clunk when I closed it behind me.

The air felt chilly enough that I shivered, my fingers curling against my palms. I'd started the trek towards the Gilbert house, the underbrush crackling beneath my boots as I stepped onto the lane leading to the house. Maple street was surprisingly quiet, not even the birds or the surrounding trees made a sound and I felt my face grow cold.

A prickle ran down my skin, and that same painfully alert feeling I'd felt before I'd found Caroline and Bonnie settled in my stomach. My breathing turned shallow; my heartbeat sped up. Leaning on my toes, I peered around, fingers tightly wrapping around the straps of my bag and felt my breath catch in my throat.

A few houses back, against the dark iron-wrought gate of a front yard, a man leant, staring intensely at me. I couldn't make out his face exactly, he was dressed in black, a hood pulled over his head, which obscured his face partly, but I could tell it was a man. A man watching me…

At first, I eyed the figure with trepidation, my mouth dry. I had no idea who he was but somehow, instead of scaring the living daylights out of me, anger started to work its way up my bloodstream. Feeling the colour to my face quickly return, fury settled in my stomach, warmed my blood. My feet were already carrying me towards him before my mind had settled on it.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"You look like Katherine." The man said, standing up straight and his face was vaguely familiar.

I swallowed, "So I've heard. Repeatedly."

"You look like—"

"Yes, I look like Katherine," I agreed irritably, crossing my arms over my chest. I frowned trying to work out why he looked so familiar. He was taller than me, his brown hair nearly orange in the warm lantern light and his eyes were so brown and inexpressive, they were almost black.

He was pale, his cheeks tinged with just the finest hint of pink and a square chin. My eyebrows furrowed even more, and I stared at him, transfixed when finally, it hit me. "Shit," I gasped, my eyes growing as wide as saucers when recognition hit me. "You're the stalking creep. The one obsessed with Katherine."

"Stalking creep," he echoed.

"No, no, I mean," I started (really, 'the stalking creep') and took a step back. He was the weirdo who wanted to— murder Elena for her likeness to Katherine. Hadn't he been the one responsible for her car crash in season one? I swallowed, steeled my nerves and straightened my back. If only I could remember his name. "I do look a lot like Katherine, don't I? I know her too. Bit of a tool, hm?"

"You know her?" He asked and his voice was low and deep.

I almost grinned at my victory. He seemed utterly thrown off and my fingers clasped tightly around the pepper-spray Grayson insisted I carried everywhere (it did work way better than the deodorant spray). "Yes. I know where she is, too."

"You do?" He asked looking curious, bloodlust or murder-game momentarily forgotten.

"Yes I—

Something moved from my peripheral vision. It was fast and dark, and pain suddenly surged through my temple, my vision fading so quickly I had barely time to hold out my arms to break my fall.

I was unconscious before my head hit the rough asphalt hard. So much for victory…

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Fourteen, Dog Teeth

When I woke up again, my head was aching and the road to consciousness came slowly and painfully. The light was bright, too bright almost and when I managed to crack an eye open, I regretted it immediately. I woke up in a room that was not familiar to me.

Not in Elena's room, not in my own. For a moment the breath in my throat stilled and got stuck there almost painfully. The last time I'd woken up in an unfamiliar room, I'd gotten stuck into someone else's body. Which was why I slowly moved my hand until it lay beside me on the yellowish pillow, in my line of vision.

The skin still had that olive hue and that still-healing abrasion from where Elena's body had fallen against the bleachers decorated the back of the hand. I let out a shaky breath. At least this body was familiar to me.

Subtly, I turned my head around. The room was well-lit, the walls lined with several boring paintings and the high-paned windows, which were lined with beige-gold. After several seconds, staring around inconspicuously, I deduced I was alone and swiftly sat up.

My muscles ached and my head pounded, and my hands came up to my temples, a low groan escaping from my throat. I vaguely remembered someone creeping up on me, remembered my head hitting the ground when someone hit me, and my fingers ventured to my mouth, rubbing over the gums.

I didn't think I felt the pressure of fangs, nor did I taste or crave blood (or I thought I didn't), which, at least, made my shoulders sag in relief.

My eyes flitted through the room again, hoping to find some details and I moved forward until I could throw my legs over the edge of the bed. The air was slightly dank and smelled of mildew.

My cheek felt hot, raw, and painful and the slight coolness of the room felt almost pleasant. I moved to the edge of the bed, pushing myself up to my feet, trudging around quietly I cataloged the room in my mind. There was a ceramic washtub, with an old, rickety table snugged up against it.

There was a bottle of water on top of it and something that looked like a lunch box was settled beside it. I ignored them and moved towards the door, the only one, and my hand reached out for the door handle and—

The door slammed open and a girl I recognized stepped into the room, pushing me back onto the bed. Annabelle Zhu stared at me through narrowed eyes, "Sleeping beauty awakens."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to shut up and remain there on the bed!" She snarled back and I inhaled sharply.

The last time someone told Elena to shut up she'd received the king of the bitch slaps of all time and I curled my legs beneath my chin, wrapping my arms tightly around my calves. My eyes flitted over the Asian girl. She was clad in a snug-fitting leather jacket with Martens boots and faded blue jeans. She looked like an ordinary girl and I ground my teeth together.

"I don't understand," I muttered, and she glared at me, her fingers flexing.

"You know what I am?"

"Yes."

"Then you should know what I can do."

"I do," I agreed softly, "I just don't understand what you'd want from me."

"Damon opened the tomb." She muttered, more to herself than to me, and flinched.

"Your mom."

I closed my eyes and let my head drop in my hands. How could I forget that the dead in Mystic Falls almost outnumbered the living?

"How do you know that?" She asked sharply.

"Damon," I admitted softly. "I'm rather surprised he didn't let all the vampires out."

"Of course, he didn't," Anna growled. "He's a fucking child. Resentment makes him act out."

"He's a pain," I agreed. "And I'm sorry. You must miss her."

"You don't seriously think I'm going to talk to you about my mother, do you?"

"No, you want to what?" I asked pressing my lips tightly together, hands fisting into the comforter. "Offer her my blood. Bleed me dry?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, "Well, aren't you well informed?"

"What do I have to do with all of this?" I asked, my knuckles turning white. "Who my blood relates to, should not define me. It's not fair."

"I decided long ago since it was Gilbert blood that put her there, it would be Gilbert blood that would awaken her."

"And that I look like Katherine, is just a bonus?" I sarcastically snarked.

"It makes our revenge feel that much sweeter."

"You can't," I whispered. "You can't kill me."

"Can't I?" She asked coldly.

"Well, yes, you can, I suppose," I admitted and wondered how much she'd even known about the Originals. She did know where Mikael had been hidden and I breathed out harshly. "I've made a deal with an Original. It needs me to be alive."

"An Original?" Anna sneered.

"Elijah," I muttered, and Anna breathed in noisily.

"One of the vampires who was after Katherine."

"Yes," I agreed.

An oddly serious expression morphed her face. It was a strange look on a teenage girl. Then again, Annabelle Zhu was an ancient vampire, trapped in a teenager's body. Her young almost child-like looks hid away a monster than had been around on Napoleon's birth and perhaps even the discovery of America. "So, you aren't related to Katherine."

"Why would you say that?"

"Katherine would never be this suicidal." Anna shrugged.

"No, I suppose not." I agreed. "But Katherine is okay with the idea of always being alone. Never being able to settle and start a life. I am not. So, I made a deal."

"A deal?" Anna let out a hollow laugh. "Are you stupid? You're a human. No one is ever going to take you seriously."

"Well, thanks for that."

"But, God, Elijah? Really?"

"What choice do I have?" I snapped. "If I don't set the terms, someone else's going to do it for me."

"Right, because of your face."

I nodded, "Well, yeah. Didn't you take me for my face too? Or was it my Gilbert blood alone?"

"Your face played its part," Anna admitted.

"Yeah, because I can help the genetic anomaly that makes me look like Katherine."

"Point taken," she agreed and some of the hostility fell away from her face.

"How do you want to open the tomb? I thought Damon already opened it?"

"Yes," she agreed, and her expression turned thunderous again, "but that arsehole had his witch close the tomb again."

"Why?" I asked, my mouth slacking open. "I thought he liked the idea of setting them free?"

"Because when he didn't find Katherine, he felt betrayed, enraged, and stuck the metaphorical finger to everyone by reinstating the barrier spell and destroying the crystal."

"Oh," I mumbled stupidly. "Then how do you want to open the tomb?"

"That's where you come in," Anna said and reached passed me, opening a drawer of the bedside table. The lamp on the top wobbled dangerously as she rummaged through its contents. She hummed before she straightened herself again and dropped a leather-bound book on my lap. "I'm looking for Emily's grimoire. And I hope you can make more out of this than I."

"You're negotiating with me?" I asked slowly.

"If that's what you want to call it, by all means."

"If I help you, do you promise I will get out of this alive?" I asked and Anna grimaced. "I need you to promise me I get out of this unharmed. No creepy stalker vampire with his obsession with Katherine. No killing me to resurrect your mom, just— I want to go home and live until Klaus breezes in town. Oh, and unless you like my brother, no stalking or hurting him either."

"You have quite a list," Anna observed dryly.

I shrugged, "I don't think I'm unreasonable."

"Perhaps not," Anna conceded, dark eyes flitting over my face for lies and deception. She must have found what she was looking for because she gave a sharp nod and pushed her arm upon her knee, cradling her jaw. "All right, Miss Gilbert, we have a deal."

I tried a tentative smile. "Okay," I grumbled, "I think I know where the Grimoire is."

"You do?" She echoed, sounding a bit more hostile.

"It's not very sanitarily," I remarked. "It's with Damon's and Stefan's father. In his coffin."

"God, was he obvious or what?" She grimaced and jumped to her feet.

"It's what he said, isn't it?" I asked sliding my fingers over the rough leather binding of the journal.

"Yes, it's what he said." She agreed and leaned closer to me. "You're to stay here."

"You can't compel me, you know that right," I said, and Anna shrugged.

"Perhaps not," she conceded, flicking her hair over her shoulder, "but know that if you venture out of this room, you're fair game to the Creepy Stalker Vampire and his friend the Busboy Ben."

I snorted. "Right the bartender. Fine, I'll stay. Is there human food around here?" I asked as Anna made her way over to the door. She turned to me with a frown. "Well, I'm not a vampire. I need to eat. Daily."

"You can go without a meal for a day, sweetie pie."

I grumbled. "So much for hospitality." And the door slammed closed behind Anna's retreating back. I listened as her footsteps faded away and flopped backward onto the bed. Wonderful, out of the frying pan, into the fire. I certainly knew how to make a bad situation even worse (even unknowingly).

Twilight had fallen, when Anna returned to the motel room (I suspected it was the same crappy motel Anna held Elena and Bonnie in, in the original timeline).

With the faint light of the setting sun, seeping in through the crack of the curtains, Anna stormed into the room in a flurry of vampire enthusiasm. Her dark slacks and ankle boots were covered mud and grime, but her expression was jubilant.

I had little time to sort out my feelings as Anna shoed me out of the motel room. Settled behind clouds and the tall copse of trees and mountains, the sun posing no further danger against the two vampires.

Anna's minions, Stalker-type and Busboy Ben remained on either side of me when we ventured out on the dim-lit car park in front of the motel (it looked even cheaper from the outside with paint peeling from the walls and one letter hanging askew from the motel sign). I inhaled gratefully, the first breath of fresh air after an entire day and night cooped up in a musty motel room.

The air was biting, the wind piercingly cold. It made my bones ache, right through my coat and shawl. The walk to the cemetery (for why take a car when you had super-speed at your disposal) was short and before I completely understood, the gleaming rooftops of the houses of the suburban neighborhood were disappearing behind the trees.

Yellow-orange leaves were fluttering around us, drifting from the gnarling branches and the narrow path into the forest was coated dead leaves.

The breeze here was laced with the earthy scent of falling leaves and freshly chopped firewood, the stench of the city far away. I curled my arms tightly around my waist. My hands were cold, my fingers curled into the material of my coat.

"Exactly how do you want to do this?" I asked, squinting miserably into the forest.

"You must have known I would find the original spell, once I got the grimoire, Elena."

"Don't you need a witch?" I asked, our footsteps crunching awkwardly over the thin layer of leaves.

Anna grinned at me. "You didn't think I had that covered?"

I swallowed, slowing down a little, and Creepy Stalker Vampire gripped my upper arm firmly. I winced when he curled an arm around my waist, fingers grazing over my waist and settling on the denim of my pants, drawing circles over my hipbone. I felt uncomfortable and it only became worse when his fingers inched towards the waistband of my denim pants.

"Let go of me!" I snapped but his fingers weren't deterred, having pushed up my top and were now drawing imaginary figures over my skin. I struggled, but when I didn't manage to pry his fingers off of me, I yanked the amulet on my neck open. The sprig of vervain came free with little trouble. "Get your hands off me!" I warned him again.

He gave me a dopey smile. "You look like—"

"Yeah, we've been over this. I look like Katherine. Get off!"

"Noah," Busboy Ben snapped giving his friend a weird look, "let her go."

"I just want to have some fun."

"Well, I don't!" I snapped and whirled around, jabbing the sprig of vervain against his flesh. He gasped, his arms dropping away from me immediately and I took three large steps away from him, bumping into Busboy Ben. "Stop touching me!" I snapped. "God, do you need to get into my personal space every single time?" I continued, breaking the sprig in two. One part in the necklace the other as a weapon. "I'm not Katherine. I'm not going to be. Keep your hands to yourself."

"Nice one Noah," Busboy Ben said and I glared. "You have a way with the ladies."

"Shut up."

I hurried forward, thinking myself safest beside Anna (which amounted for nothing, really) who was looking at me in that amused way of hers.

Suddenly the roots beneath my feet lurched, or I slipped, and I was sent sprawling down, chaffing my cheek against the rough trunk of a thick oak tree. My shoulder jarred hard against it and I gasped but I didn't have long to think about it, because Anna grabbed my arm and yanked me upright again.

My breath came out in clouds of steam and my hand curled tightly around my shoulder.

"I— thank you."

"Hurry up, Elena Gilbert."

"I'm only human, remember," I grumbled and let her yank me further into the woods.

For some reason, Anna took a long way. It was almost pitch dark when we stumbled into the clearing with the ruined church.

Two torches had been set, and the fires danced ominously in the wind. I was slightly grateful, and Anna let go of my arm, trusting with my sight restored, I would be able to follow the flagstone path towards Fell's church.

I stared at it (having only been able to make out one of the walls the last time, I'd been here), peering at the hole where once had been a door. Much of the tower was still intact, reaching up high above me and I swallowed.

"Come on," Anna said, beckoning towards the tomb's entree.

I grimaced. "Right."

The stairs to the lower levels of the church had been mostly hidden from view, the ground opening up rather suddenly to a pair of dusty spiraling, stone stairs.

Creepy Vampire Stalker— right, Noah, stepped up beside me again, his fingers trailing along the back of my neck and somehow that was the last drop. I slapped at his hand (Busboy Ben looked as if he'd been waiting for me to snap with an extremely amused expression). "I swear, if you try that one more time, you're getting the pepper spray!" I threatened irritably.

"But—"

"Noah, leave her alone," Anna ordered coldly.

With a huffy grumble, the man did, his hand dropping away from my back and I let out a grateful sigh. At least the creepy vampire breathing down my neck had now understood the concept of personal space. It didn't stop the cold sweat gathering on my forehead and at the nape of my neck. I should have tried to run.

I wouldn't have been able to outrun or outwit the two vampires in the motel, but in the open air, I might have managed— something. It was too late now though.

I'd taken the last step and stumbled into the large stone room of sorts. Here too, two torches were lit, lighting up the large stone blocking the entrance.

I peered at the pentagram edged into the grimy, dusty surface of the stone, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. It took the combined strength of Noah and Busboy Ben to move the block of stone and when they managed, Anna quickly moved forward.

So fast she'd become a blur and with a precise shove, Noah stumbled inside the tomb.

"What the— Anna?"

"We need a way to know the barrier is gone." Anna shrugged.

Noah sped up to the opening, slamming hard against the invisible barrier: "Why me?"

"I've had it with you creeping up on the girl," Anna said. "We need her not to be your midnight snack."

"Bitch!" He snapped. It looked rather comically the way his hands pressed against the barrier. It looked slightly like someone pressing his hands against the smooth slab of glass of a window, the skin of his palms turning white as he pushed as hard as he could.

"I still don't understand how you're going to remove the barrier," I muttered, keeping to the side.

"Just wait and see." She shrugged and turned her back to the struggling Noah.

I didn't have to wait long. I wasn't sure how much time had passed when another set of footsteps came down the stairs. I recognized the man moving into the light immediately. News reporter Logan Fell was tall and slight athletically build with short, dark brown hair and green eyes. They were bright with what I assumed was hunger when he looked me up, I fisted the sprig of vervain tightly.

Almost tightly enough to crush it.

"Jenna's niece," he greeted but his voice was strained, and my eyes were drawn to the huddled form Logan had dragged along. It was a dark-skinned woman with curly hair and somehow her presence made a dull ache rise beneath my skin.

"Mrs. Bennett?" I gasped and her head snapped up, dark eyes moving to me.

"Ah, Elena."

I squared my shoulders, expecting some form of pain but when it didn't come I could only stare at her in confusion. Logan helped her across the area, her eyes never leaving mine and it was weird.

The Logan I'd remembered, especially in vampire form, was a dick. A murderer and a monster. A ripper with no control (a lot like Stefan on a blood high in that aspect) who I'd never thought would gently help an elderly lady across a room or an area.

"Hello, Mrs. Bennett," Anna greeted coolly.

"The vampire girl who wants to get her mother out?" Sheila asked in a monotone voice.

"Hm," she agreed and waved in my general direction, "and I delivered, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." Mrs. Bennett agreed.

"You exchanged me against opening the tomb?" I asked breathlessly and this time when I met Sheila Bennett's cold gaze, I understood. I'd been her bargaining chip. I could only imagine what she would do to me. I suspected I would be paying dearly for fucking up the original timeline as I did. I could feel it in the marrow of my bones. "I see…"

"Yes, I suppose you do, don't you?"

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." I whispered.

I didn't think it was worth much. Sheila moved forward without so much as a side glance at me and held out her hands, taking Emily's grimoire from Anna's hands.

A shudder ran down my spine and without much else to do I leaned back against one of the walls, pressing my hands between my knees. I didn't pay much attention to Sheila as she drew difficult forms in the dirt ground. At some point, something changed.

I watched the fires rise and I could even imagine the barrier flicker until a strange, hazy glow surrounded me. Magic running hot and wild over my skin and the air started to become oppressive.

I had no idea if that was supposed to happen and could only watch white-faced and voicelessly as Bonnie's Grandmother chanted in what I assumed was Latin. When she slowed her chanting, the invisible barrier holding Noah was gone. He flopped forwards, hitting the ground hard.

My eyebrows furrowed and I stared at Sheila Bennett again. "I thought the spell was too strong?"

"Many things fuel a witch's power." Sheila Bennett gasped, sounding breathless.

"I see."

Anna was next to me a moment later, grabbing a hold of my upper arm. "Well, come on then."

"She's not going." Sheila snapped, her face flushing with color.

"Oh, she is." Anna drolly replied. "You need her. She's your bargaining chip. Now she's mine."

"If you kill her…"

"I won't—" Anna shrugged and pulled me along, "we've already been over this, haven't we, Elena?"

"Apparently," I mumbled, not sure what to do or what to say. I had no idea who exactly was the lesser of two evils. I supposed with Anna, I would live the longest. Or at least, I thought I would and without much struggle, I let her tug me into the tomb.

At least, Anna had the foresight to bring a flashlight, her cool fingers tightly wrapped around my wrist. I wasn't going to lie, I was terrified.

Cobwebs, grime, and dirt decorated every surface. The ground beneath my shoes was a soft, muddy sort of dirt and crunched with every step we took.

The whispering started a second later and when the flashlight swept across the grayish-gaunt, sunken faces of so many vampires I flinched.

"She has to be here," Anna mumbled and my heartbeat accelerated. We moved deeper and deeper beneath the church, through the maze that was the corridors, making out the tomb.

Every so often, empty holders with the remains of wax candles in them were hung on the walls. I wasn't sure why they were there, nor did I understand the wrought-iron gate we passed when we moved even deeper into the tomb.

My fingers had gone cold and my breathing had quickened. "You're not going to kill—"

"No," she sighed, "I made a deal, I'll stick to it."

"So, she'd help you get your mom?"

"A Bennett witch dropping the spell her ancestor placed. Very biblical don't you think?"

"Sure," I muttered. I remembered what had happened the first time Sheila had done the spell. She'd died in her sleep. Perhaps that would happen again. I supposed it was horrible for me to think that, but I was terrified of what she would unleash on me. I guess I was a bad person.

"Mama!"

A sharp tug at my arm made me tumble to the dirt ground and the flashlight flickered perilously.

I'd have never recognized Pearl. Skin sunken and ashen, her entire body covered in a thick layer of dust, she was propped up against the wall. Her hair was so matted, it didn't look like hair anymore. And then her eyelids fluttered open, red eyes rolling up to stare at both me and Anna before her gaze fixated on me.

"Ka-therine."

"No, I'm—"

"Doesn't matter," Anna muttered and yanked me closer, pressing my wrist against her lips.

I knew what was to come. Or I thought I. knew. I squeezed my eyes closed, waiting for the pain. It was not unlike accidentally cutting yourself while cutting vegetables. It was fast, the initial sting only registering after a second and my eyes popped open.

I watched with a morbid sort of fascination as blood welled up from the pale flesh of my inner wrist. I shuddered when Anna pressed the limb against her mother's unmoving mouth.

Pearl's skin was cold and leathery, her lips were rough, parched and for a moment nothing happened. My blood trickled slowly down her wilted skin and the bodice of her old-fashioned blouse. But then Pearl regained some strength and her teeth scraped over my skin.

Pain, much like when the angry dog sunk his teeth into my ankle and refused to let go when I was eight. It seared up my arm and jolted down my spine and I let out a low whine, bordering on a scream. Pearl's body was quickly regaining a healthier color and I was quickly starting to feel faint. Really faint and I started to struggle in earnest now.

"Stop!" I gasped. "Please, stop!"

"Mama—"

"I can't— please stop!"

And then the pressure against my wrist was gone. Pearl was clutching her head and gasping, rasping. As was Anna and for a moment I had no idea what happened. They just dropped, holding their heads and were moaning.

The whispers reared up around us as did a new set of whispers. A chanting set of whispers and I snatched the flashlight of the ground, sweeping it around the tomb, over the sunken, ashen faces, until it landed on a tall dark-skinned man. I recognized him immediately.

Tall, really tall, with short-cropped dark hair and eyes that rolled into the back of his head when he did magic. Jonas Martin swept into the chamber, his arms raised, his fingers curled towards the sky. He dropped his arms, look straight at me.

"Mr. Martin," I managed, clasping my fingers over my still bleeding wrist.

"Elena Gilbert," he greeted, "the girl who knew too much."

"Right—" I mumbled, eyes flitting over the two fallen vampires and I struggled to get to my feet.

"Elena," he smiled, "Elijah needs you safe, are you coming?"

I stared at the two vampires again. At the immortal teenage girl who'd waited over a century to get her mother back and felt a stab of guilt run through me. What wouldn't I do to get my parents back?

To see my mum (who was still alive) or even my dad (I hadn't seen my dad in five years). In the original timeline, they died, lost in the purgatory of the other side. And as much as the ache in my wrist — and my whole body — annoyed me, I didn't think they deserved to die either.

"We can't leave them here."

"Elena."

"No, I—"

"The barrier will remain ineffective for five more minutes," he told me authoritatively, "that would be enough time for you and your mother to leave this town. And I certainly would recommend leaving, because if you don't, we will be forced to take you all out of the equation."

"But, Mr. Martin -"

"Get moving, Elena," he told me without even a second glance back at them and pushed me away. Out of the chamber and down the narrow, twisting stone corridors.

Mr. Martin towered out over me, his hand hot against my shoulder, and his magic fluttering against my skin. The beam of the flashlight was narrow, only showing the dirt-rock floor.

I let out a soft exhale when the rectangle opening to the outside world came in sight. My heartbeats were coming quickly now, for as much as the outside world would mean freedom, it would also mean Sheila Bennett and I wasn't looking forward to her seeing her again. Even with the safety blanket that was Jonas Martin marching behind me.

"Ah, there you are. The vampire girl?" Sheila asked as Mr. Martin and I stepped out of the tomb.

"Incapacitated for the moment. They should have enough time to get out." He shrugged and then his expression turned cold and serious. "I'm taking her."

Sheila Bennett shook her head. "No!" She gasped. "I need her."

One hand raised and Mr. Martin whirled through the air, hitting the back of the stone that previously had blocked the tomb. Her other hand clamped around my wrist and she tugged me closer.

"I didn't— Wait— I—"

"I know it wasn't you!" Sheila snarled and the walls trembled along with her anger.

"I don't understand," I whispered, still feeling slightly faint and Sheila gave a sharp tug at my arm.

"My granddaughter—" she gasped, her knuckles turning pale when a pale set of hands gripped her face. With a snap, Sheila's head was wrenched to the side. An unwilling scream tore from my throat and Sheila Bennett tumbled to the dirt with a slacked expression. She was dead.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Fifteen, Let the Right One in

The tomb beneath the ruins of Fell's church was much like a cellar beneath the ground. A hidden cellar, practically invisible to the naked eye. My heart was beating fast, so fast it was almost painful and my fingers curled tightly around the flashlight. The narrow beam of light shivering over the walls as I'd tucked it between my side and my elbow, shuddering spookily over Sheila's face. Her eyes stared unblinkingly into the rock ceiling.

Her face still registering disconcerted surprise and I swallowed, swallowed down the second scream building into my throat. Stefan Salvatore stepped out from the shadows, his green eyes jaded.

"Stefan?"

"Are you okay?"

"I—yes?" I mumbled, my brain drew a blank.

Stefan stepped over Sheila's limb body and Mr Martin, who had managed to get to his feet, stared at the newcomer with wide eyes. He looked at the crumpled body in a way that made me think he had no idea what he was supposed to do. I certainly didn't know what I was supposed to do and I exhaled noisily. My blood was roaring in my ears and my throat felt sore, as if I'd been screaming— like I'd been screaming for hours. Eyebrows furrowing so deep, his eyes almost disappeared, Stefan stepped closer to me.

"You killed her."

"She was trying to hurt you, Elena."

"I know," I whispered, "but she didn't deserve to die. This— this was not meant to happen."

"I couldn't let anything happen to you," Stefan decided and I was slightly taken aback by the fire in his eyes. It didn't take me long to put two and two together and arrive at four. Damon had spilled my secrets and now, Stefan would try and interfere. I could tell from the set of his mouth and the tense line of his shoulders, that he knew.

I swallowed. Mr Martin stepped up next to me. I kept my eyes on Stefan when I spoke to the dark-skinned man. "Where you send to bring me home?"

"Yes," he agreed, "Elijah thought it would be best."

"Okay," I agreed and wondered if letting me stay at Elena's house was just a courtesy, just as it had been in the original timeline. I forcefully didn't look at Sheila's body again, my heart galloped in my chest, and I crossed my arms beneath my breasts.

"I can take her," Stefan said, his voice hard but I couldn't. I couldn't face him just now.

I shook my head. "No, no, it's okay," I whispered and Stefan looked sad at that. I inhaled deeply. "I'm okay, Stefan. I don't need a knight in shining armor."

"Besides," Mr Martin put in, staring hard, "someone will have to deal with the woman."

I inhaled deeply again. Reduced to 'the woman'. Everyone who got killed in the show was just forgotten. Only ever spoken of as an afterthought. Even worse, at some point killing became such a normal occurrence, the characters, and even the viewers, just stopped caring. Or perhaps, that mostly happened to the viewers? Maybe, I would at least remember them and keep their memory alive?

My stomach heaved violently, but there was nothing to throw up so instead, I just leaned forward until the feeling passed, mouth closing and opening several times. When I looked up again, Stefan was already heaving up Sheila's body and I felt a stab of guilt run through me at his resigned expression. Her death might have been unnecessary, but I shouldn't forget that Stefan had gone through all these lengths to protect me.

"Stefan!"

"Yes?"

I managed a smile. "Thank you for trying to help me."

He was gone the next moment. Perhaps he interpreted my white face and my watery eyes correctly and didn't want to be around when I inevitably burst into tears (I seemed to have a real knack for that too) or perhaps he respected my wishes. Just as Stefan had done with canon-Elena's wishes. I had no idea, but in the blink of an eye, he was gone. From the rectangle opening above my head, a shaft of moonlight filtered through the almost bare spindly branches overhead and threw a dappled light along the dirt floor.

"Are you all right?" Mr Martin asked, a worried frown marrying his eyebrows.

"I'm okay," I wasn't, but—

"A stupid question," he admitted and I was acutely reminded that this man had two teenage children. That this man had been extremely attentive whenever his son tried to hide something and my cheeks started to flush. "Of course, you're not okay. Do you need anything? Is there something I can do?"

"No," I mumbled and curled my fingers tighter around the flashlight. I really didn't understand why everyone was so nice to me. "I just want to go home."

He nodded curtly and led me up the dusty stairs. When we stepped out into the small clearing, my hand brushing against one church wall, the wind tousled my hair and I shivered. The temperature had dropped drastically and I could barely even see Mr Martin's silhouette against the darkness of the forest. In the distance, I thought I heard the telltale rush of vampires disappearing in the night and I felt happy at least both Anna and Pearl had made it out in time.

The path we followed was trampled and the few sprigs of grass that had survived the first stages of winter were wet with dew. When we stepped out of the forest and onto the edge of more recent parts of the cemetery, I let out another grateful exhale. When we entered the road, I watched Mr Martin hail a cab (he'd probably called a cab company before going to collect me) and I stealthily climbed in the back. Mr Martin took a seat next to me and as he provided Elena's home address, I slouched back in my seat. It had been an incredibly long day.

My body ached when we finally arrived at Maple street. Scrambling out of the taxi, it was to several unfamiliar cars parked in front of the Gilbert house. My spine prickled as I stumbled out of the car, up onto the porch and, finally, into the house. The door clicked shut behind me and I followed the worried voices down the hall.

Everyone was in the kitchen. Miranda and Grayson stooped over the counter, Jeremy ram-rod straight on a stool, and Liz Forbes flattening her hands over what I assumed was a list of questions or information. Information about me.

There was a calendar of patrol times propped up on the windowsill and across the table, pictures were spread. Pictures of Elena Gilbert, from all ages and a 'Have-you-seen-me-poster' to the side. All four of them looked up when I let out a harsh gasp. They were starting a search— for me? Shit!

"Elena?" Miranda wheezed.

"Jesus Christ, Elena!" Grayson gasped and hurried across the room. "Where have you been?"

"I—" I had no idea what I was supposed to say. What was supposed to explain my absence (how long had I been gone anyway, it must have been longer than the twenty-four hours I'd initially thought)? Grayson cradled my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes. My pulse increased and I tried shifting closer to the door, away from Grayson's intense stare. The lie worked its way in my mind a second later.

"I don't know."

"You don't— Elena, don't you dare!" He started furiously, his skin white and lusterless as chalk.

"I don't remember," I echoed, scratching at my wrist. The crusting of blood coming away.

"What is that?" Grayson asked, catching the limb and bringing it up for inspection. There was a hardness in his expression I had never seen before. However, he did exactly as I'd anticipated. Now I hoped he would think me not knowing where I was, was vampire related (it wasn't a lie, exactly). I swallowed hard, my eyes drawn to Miranda now.

Her eyes were wide and her face shallow-colored. She was dressed in a blue nightdress, standing on bare feet and I realized I'd scared the living daylights out of her. Grayson was inspecting my neck now, having dropped my wrist in favor of pushing aside the material of my turtleneck. I knew what he would find, or wouldn't find.

"What are you doing?" I asked dumbly, trying to keep my expression as confused as possible.

"Did something attack you?"

"No," I denied, "I fell— I think."

Grayson's face softened and he pulled me close. Miranda joined in, carding her fingers through my hair. A burning sensation fluttered over the skin of my wrist, surging up through my left arm. The lingering ache that settled there was somewhat irritating.

When the two adults stepped back, Liz Forbes started a careful round of questioning, noticed a few leaves stuck in my hair, and after twenty minutes of not-really-answering any questions, ordered several men to search the forest, and find the cab that had picked me up. Apparently there had been a cop outside when I'd arrived.

Grayson pushed me onto a stool at the kitchen table, as Miranda settled a cup of tea in front of me. It smelled vaguely like roses and I almost snorted. Of course, Vervain tea, it didn't surprise me. I felt slightly numb and I wondered— was this the beginning of stopping to care? Did I even want to care anymore? I bit my lip hard, mostly ignoring the adults' conversation, and considered my options (as I'd done so often before).

Damon was a grenade without a pin, at least he was out of the equation. Anna and Pearl would leave town if they were smart and Elijah was warming up Klaus to my terms. Or at least, he was trying to get into contact with Klaus. I could only imagine how good he'd gotten at disappearing at will.

"Elena!" A new voice gasped and I whirled around.

"Jenna?" I asked in surprise as Elena's young aunt rushed over and almost strangled me.

"Oh my God, Elena," she huffed squeezing me even tighter and I patted her back helplessly, "Do you have any idea how worried I was? How worried everyone was? Half the town was up and about."

"Y—yeah, I get that now, Jenna—" I whined and she let go of me as if burned.

"Oh, sorry."

"So the prodigal daughter returns?" An amused male voice asked next from the door opening.

My eyes widened in surprise. "Erm—"

"I'm Alaric Saltzman," he introduced himself (unnecessarily if I may add) and I nodded.

"Elena," I replied in ways of introduction and stared at Jenna again, my eyebrows furrowed so tight it made my skin itch. "Elena Gilbert, I'm— not sure what's going on."

"Ric's presence is my fault." She mumbled and I mentally put the nickname away for later.

"I didn't want to be a bother, Jenna." Alaric retorted.

"You're not—" she started and Grayson leveled her with an amused look.

"You almost ran him over at Main Street, when you were looking for Elena," he drawled.

Jenna flushed and I sniggered. "You almost ran someone over?" I echoed. "Really, Jenna?"

"He appeared out of nowhere," she defended huffily.

"I was crossing a pedestrian crossing." Alaric dryly remarked and that comment got a smile out of everyone. I could see it too. Alaric's smiles were easy and pleasant and when he stepped closer I noticed the skin on his forehead and neck were sun-darkened, a light golden in the kitchen light. And Jenna was looking at him as if he was a pond of water in the desert. I remembered how good they were together.

That was until Jenna learned about Elena's birth mother. Their relationship became a rise and fall after that. And wasn't that the problem? All those people got hurt or even worse because they didn't know. I promised myself that at least I would keep Jenna safe. She deserved to have a life away from all the misery that was Mystic Falls.

"Let's get you to bed," Miranda whispered and shoed her younger sister out of the way, before leading me up the stairs. I wondered how she still hadn't grasped that I wasn't her Elena. But then again, who knew how someone acted when faced with trauma?

Surprisingly, I slept well that night.

The next morning, I awoke to the bright beams of sunlight scattered on the cherrywood floorboards of Elena's bedroom. And to Stefan perched on the edge of my window seat. I sat up in a flurry of blankets and feathers, escaping from my pillow when I grasped it tightly, hugging it against my chest. My heart was galloping in my chest and it took several minutes before my breathing became normal again.

"Stefan?" I gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning Elena,"

"How did you get in?"

"Jeremy invited me in," he told me apologetically and I drew my tongue along my teeth.

"I see."

It was awkward. Or, it felt awkward and I struggled to my feet, my arms wrapping around my waist. The night before I'd only dressed in a pair of shorts and a simple camisole (which I was regretting now) and self-consciously I moved towards the joined bathroom.

"Do you have a moment?" I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat up, and at his curt nod, I hid into the bathroom. The clothes I'd worn the previous day were still there, discarded haphazardly beneath the sink and I quickly threw on the red button-up and the dark blue denim jeans. There were freshly singed holes in the knees and I wondered almost absentmindedly how they'd gotten there.

When I finally stepped out, the house was too silent and my blood felt as if it was crawling beneath my skin. Stefan hadn't moved from his spot on the windowsill. I gently tugged at a lock of hair as I moved back to my bed, sitting in the centre with my legs crossed. "What are you doing here, Stefan?"

"I think you know."

Of course, I did, but I had to hear him say it. "Why?"

"I know about your deal with the old vampire."

"Damon told you?" I asked, my voice hooking on a note of uncertainty.

"Yes," he admitted, "and I must say, I'm really worried, Elena."

"I'm fine," I mumbled, averting my eyes. From my peripheral vision, I noticed the pleated red skirt of Elena's cheerleading uniform. Even without looking at him, I noticed the irritation coming off from Stefan in waves. Somehow, it made me bristle. "What do you want me to do, Stefan?" I snapped and met his gaze dead-on. "Do you want me to sit back and let others take the fall for me?"

"We can protect you." Stefan huffed defensively and somehow that comment only made it worse.

"No, you can't. You're no match to an original, Stefan. If you were, don't you think I would have asked?" I said (I probably wouldn't have, he'd probably have seen it as permission to pursue me again) and tried to keep the hostility out of my voice.

"That guy wants to kill you."

"Why do you care?" I whispered, fed up and so fucking tired. "Why do you really care?"

"You're only seventeen. You've barely even begun living."

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Is the life of one individual really more important than the lives of many?"

"Utilitarianism," Stefan said, nodding in understanding, but his eyes were bright.

My stomach lurched at the tone of his voice and I took a deep breath. "As I told your brother before, I have no other choice. Or at least, it's the only choice that would safe the highest number of people. Perhaps that way of thinking goes along with the lines of utilitarianism, but I don't care. I'm not going to hide while some ancient evil comes along and kills everyone I care for."

Stefan's snarl was more of an animalistic roar than a reply but I set my jaw in irritation. I wouldn't be deterred. I might not love the people in this town, I didn't want to see them getting hurt. I cared enough for Jeremy, wanted Jenna Sommers to have a life, and had hoped I could have prevented all the hurt and horror Caroline would have to go through. Just as I'd hoped to keep Bonnie mostly out of all that was supernatural, but obviously I had failed at that. I wouldn't fail again.

"Elena, this isn't right."

"No," I conceded, "perhaps not, but it's as close to right as it can get."

He was close to me in the blink of an eye, close enough for me to see the specks of gold along with his irises. "Please, Elena!" He whispered, his hands cradling my jaw. "Let me help you."

"Do you even understand what you're dealing with?"

"I've heard of the Originals."

"I'm sure that what you heard does not add up to reality," I muttered and met his gaze again. "Listen, I made a deal. A good deal which ensures my survival and the survival of the people I love." I explained, keeping my voice slow and even. "I need you to not get involved. I don't want you to be involved. I'm basically nothing more to you than the girl who looks like your ex-lover and it should stay that way."

"You're so much more," he whispered and his thumb brushed along my cheekbone.

"Stefan, please," I mumbled trying to avert my face. "Just try to respect my choice."

I really sounded like Elena Gilbert then.

"Elena, he wants to kill you, you can't ask me to just sit idly by."

"I don't want him to go full-on terminator and kill everyone in sight, all right?" I snapped.

He snorted. "You're becoming a martyr. That isn't brave, that's tragic."

"I rather become a martyr, then see every person I know die a gruesome death," I told him.

"I'm not going to let you die." He told me and turned around to Elena's built-in closet.

"By all means."

I heard the rustle of clothes and I guessed Stefan was moving through the room, but I didn't turn around. Picking out a matching sweater, I took my sweet time doing the buttons before looking his way again. He'd settled on the edge of Elena's desk, fingers intertwined and face solemn.

I swallowed. "You're not going to leave this alone, are you?"

"Of course, not."

"Wonderful," I grumbled.

Sliding my fingers over the purpling bruises blooming around my left wrist, I opened my mouth, unsure what I would have said when two raised voices interrupted me. Stefan looked only vaguely startled. I supposed vampire hearing had him already aware of the newest arrival, but I winced. Dark eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, I followed the sound of the shrill, reverberating voices. Stefan followed me dutifully. I was very much worried he would use his invitation to up his stalking tendencies, although he hadn't been the Edward Cullen in this warped-up version of twilight just yet.

Gripping the banister tightly I lent over it and felt my eyebrows rise all the way. Jenna Sommers was backed against the wall, her face flushed and John Gilbert stood over her. His face was almost scarlet in what I assumed was anger. His blond hair fell in straggly wisps around his face, fluttering over his forehead and I felt my heart wrench painfully against my ribcage. I had no idea why he'd come over and I ground my teeth together. More family members who might be trying to stop me from doing what I was supposed to do.

"Elena," he muttered and his face gaunt, "you're awake— who's this?"

"Hi— Uncle John, I had no idea you were here?"

"Jeremy let me in this morning." He remarked dryly and I wetted my lips.

"I see," before following John's gaze to Stefan, "This is Stefan, he's a classmate."

John frowned and I was reminded he was in touch with his long-lost girlfriend, Isobel Flemming in the original timeline. He probably was right now and I nervously tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Are you all right?" John said, his accent (I couldn't pinpoint it exactly) curling heavily along his words. His eyes were hard, flitting to Stefan several times. "You'd got us quite worried."

"I'm sorry," I sheepishly replied.

"It's okay," he mumbled, stepping towards the stairs, hand held out. Stefan shook it slowly.

"Hello, Sir."

"Related to Zach?" John asked, for all intense and purposes sounding pleasant enough.

"That's my uncle," Stefan lied easily.

I trailed my tongue along my bottom lip, not daring to meet Jenna's questioning gaze. John looked at me as if he wanted to snatch me off the stairs, away from the hundredth-and-sixty-year-old vampire. "Shouldn't you be going, Stefan?" He asked, his tone slightly clipped, but otherwise still polite enough.

"Right, yeah, I'll see you at school Elena."

"Sure," I returned and led him away, and sighed in exhaustion when the front door fell behind me.

"You shouldn't give up," Stefan whispered, smoothing his hand along my shoulder.

"You shouldn't get involved. I mean it, Stefan. This is none of your business."

"You shouldn't have to die for someone else's gain."

I swallowed, gripping the frame of the doorway. This was leading me nowhere. "Believe me you have other things to worry about. My parents might not have made the connection yet, but Uncle John is better informed. He knows what you and Damon are. He knows what you are and he will do something about it." I said, hoping keeping his secret meant more to him than stirring trouble with me. Then again, if he was already in love with Elena— or with me (I had no idea how you were able to fall in love with two women with the same face), he would definitely try and stir trouble for me.

"Elena,"

"Just go, Stefan." I sighed.

"If that's what you want—" he started and I almost snorted. He didn't act like he would consider what I wanted when it went against his interests or opinions.

"It's what I want."

"Than, I'll see you later, right?"

"Yes, you see me at school," I agreed, opening the front door again and stepping inside backward without looking. I didn't know Jenna and John were right behind me until I bumped into John, face reddening horribly. "Oh, Uncle John?"

"Goodbye, Stefan," he remarked drolly and slammed the door shut.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Sixteen, The Witches Sign

Perhaps it was luck that had me running into Luka Martin only a day later. It was a dreary day, the lantern lights making the pavements shine beneath the pale mist of rain. Dark and stormy, the grey swirling clouds promised a heavy downpour and I slammed the car door, unfolding my umbrella.

I was making my way up onto the schoolyard, when I recognized him, looking around with a rather lost expression on his face. I wondered if my face had lit up as if Christmas came early when I made my way over, calling out for him, only remembering a moment later that I wasn't really supposed to know him at all.

"Ah—" he gasped when his dark eyes landed on me, "—you're Elena."

"I, yes," I agreed. "So you and your dad live here now?"

He looked exactly as in the show, boyish with a shaved head and large front teeth. Much like his father and most of the Vampire Diaries male characters his choice of wardrobe consisted out of dark clothes. Dark slacks with a matching dark Metallica shirt and a hoodie. To me, it looked like he was underdressed for the late autumn day, even if the Virginia weather was often forgiving.

"Yes," he agreed, "stationing here seems like a good idea."

"I wish I could agree with you on that," I mumbled and he sniggered.

"Yeah, the animal attacks hm?"

"Yup," I agreed, mustering up a friendly smile as he held the door open for me. We slipped inside the school. The linoleum floors were gleaming, already darkened with dirt and mud and I nibbled on my lower lip, wondering how I would lead the conversation to Klaus and all the meddlers that lived in Mystic Falls.

"Elijah said you've been through a lot and that you needed us to watch you," he told me drolly.

"Elijah is starting to act like my father," I remarked.

"It's because you're so young," Luka admitted and flushed, "I overheard him and dad on the phone."

I really didn't understand that. Elijah had had no problem offering up Elena Gilbert in the original timeline, although, that had already been a hardened version of the girl I was. That was the girl who'd thrown a vervain bomb in Elijah's face while I had been wistfully unprepared when meeting him.

A meeting I had set up myself. I wondered if that was the reason why Elijah allowed me to go home again. Perhaps, he'd looked at my terrified face, at the make-up, that had been just a tad too much to look like Katherine and considered me nothing more than a kid playing dress-up with her mother's clothes.

"Do you think I can come over with you?" I asked, pushing the words forward the same way I handled removing a bandaid. I ripped it off at once. "I mean, things have changed a bit, people I didn't want to be involved have made it their business to get involved. I think it's wise if I got to discuss that with you and your father." I explained hurriedly, before adding, "perhaps I could get Elijah's number?"

Luka looked conflicted. "Well, I don't really have it—"

My eyebrows furrowed together. "You do, don't you?"

"Okay, yes, I have it." He admitted drolly.

"If you're unsure if you're allowed to give it to me then don't," I said slowly.

His youthful face lit up at that and I felt a stab of worry travel through me. In the original plotline, Luka would die. Would die and would be considered by the majority of the viewers as a traitor, but how was his fight for his sister any different from Stefan's fight for his Elena. I would have to make sure he and his father wouldn't die. And by doing that, honesty was probably the best course of action.

He gripped my wrist, yanking me through the corridor and into the deserted cafeteria. His grip was likely to leave an imprint of his fingers, even possible to leave bruises, but I felt a little discomfort. Leaning against a plastic chair I waited for him to speak.

"Okay," he whispered (unnecessary if I might add) and held out his hand, "if you give me your number, we can discuss this more privately."

I'd forgotten how secretive teenagers could be. How secretive I had been so now and then and grinned taking his iPhone, fingers skimming over the screen, typing in Elena's feel number. I committed it to memory a while ago, and I was quite glad for it now.

Luka looked rather nervous and I gave him a genuine smile when offering him his phone back. "There, my cell. If you call me now, I'll have yours too."

"Sure," he agreed and when his unknown number flashed on my screen, I smiled.

"Yes, thank you, got it." I grinned and added it to my contacts.

"I'll text you," he mumbled awkwardly and I stuck up my thumbs before making my way to history.

Mr Tanner had already started the roll call and I tiptoed past him.

I'd just sunk into a seat at the back of the classroom when the dour teacher peered up from his list and met my gaze head-on. "Miss Gilbert, how nice of you to attend my lowly history class."

"I'm sorry, I got hold up," I mumbled, swallowing the sassy comment that had been building.

"Of course," he replied pleasantly, "tell me what can you recall from the Hindenburg?"

I flushed, twisting my pencil case between my fingers: "The Hindenburg was the largest Zeppelin ever built." I started and as I spoke, little sprigs of information rolled through my mind. "I think— it was made in Germany and was supposed to run on Helium, but because of its rarity, hydrogen was used."

"That's right," Mister Tanner grumbled and I was quite proud of myself, "when was its final flight?"

"Erm, late 1930?" I asked.

"A pity, Elena, you were doing so well, Mister Donovan, do you want to give it a try?"

Matt Donovan flushed a dark red and stammered for a moment, "Early 1930?"

"I want a precise date, not an estimation, Mister Donovan. But you are completely wrong."

"1937," I gasped, the year bubbling up out of nowhere, "March 1937."

"Your turn was over, Miss Gilbert."

"You're not easily satisfied." I grumbled but Tanner didn't hear me (thankfully) and Tanner moved on with the lesson ('The final flight of the Hindenburg ended in a disaster at March the sixth, 1937'). As he moved to the blackboard I subtly pulled out my phone, dragging my fingers over the buttons, asking Luka when and where he wanted to meet. I didn't have to wait long for the answer. Only half of the lesson was done when my phone buzzed. I was to meet him and his father after school at his apartment at Old Creek Road 14B and I grinned. Although I had no idea exactly where Old Creek Road was, I had more than enough time to find out (what else was the internet for).

Which was what I did. After school, I'd managed to find my way to Old Creek Road, parking my car just around the corner, the parking lot in front of the large apartment building solely for apartment owners, and made my way up several flights of stairs.

Jonas Martin had answered the door, leading me to a quaint little kitchen. We'd both settled around the kitchen table, joined only minutes later by Luka Martin. Weak sunlight pouring in through the window behind Mr Martin.

"So Elena, you wanted to meet with us?" The father asked and I noticed the strain in his voice.

"Yes—" I agreed, "—I wanted to discuss the deal with you."

"I was under the impression you'd made this deal with Elijah?" Mr Martin asked and I nodded.

"Yes, but I can't get in touch with Elijah, so I thought I could explain it to you first?"

"I suppose," Mr Martin agreed.

"There is a bit of a problem," I mumbled. "Stefan and Damon Salvatore know about the ritual."

Mr Martin frowned. "I do not see how that's a problem."

"Right," I grumbled, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't see the problem with that."

"We can handle a handful of normal vampires, Elena," Luka said, sounding miffed.

I ran my tongue along my teeth (a nervous habit, I admit) and gave Luka a small smile. Our truce was precarious and getting into a fight with this family would definitely end into an awful affair. "It's not that I think you couldn't deal with a vampire. I do understand you and your father would be capable, but they will only try to get involved to save me. Stefan and— my friends, they would try and get involved for my sake, just as you and your father would get involved to save your daughter Greta."

"How do you know about her?" Mr Martin said and I inhaled deeply.

The last time I'd gotten clean about this, it hadn't helped me. I peered at the tops of my sneakers, tracing the swirling browns with cream on the tiles before looking up again. "I've seen things. I know how it sounds, but I've seen things that haven't happened yet. And I've tried to stop them from happening. I've been partly successful, partly very unsuccessful, but that's how I know."

"That makes no sense," Luka drolly remarked and I gave him a dark look. "I mean—"

"No, it doesn't make much sense, but it is the truth."

"Do you know where Klaus is?" Mr Martin interrupted.

"No," I admitted, "but I know he has the help of your daughter and another warlock, Maddox."

Luka snorted. "Help? He forced her; you mean?"

"No," I whispered and my stomach turned uneasily, "from what I've seen, it doesn't look like Klaus forced her. However, he might use her infatuation with him for his own gain."

"Infatuation?" Mr Martin grumbled, his eyes turning stormy.

"Yes," I replied.

"Fuck," Luka muttered.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, crossing my legs at the ankles. "That's why I told Elijah I would try and talk to her, but if she is with him out of her own free will, she might not go easy."

"If Klaus is gone—"

"She'll turn against you," I said. I hadn't even considered Greta's reaction in all of this, but now that I thought about it, it had been rather obvious she was in love with Klaus. Blind to his faults and wistful of all his needs. If she was that in love with him, she would certainly react violently when someone would go after him. "When you're in love at that age, aren't you often very unreasonable?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Mr Martin hissed, a tremble going up through the table.

"I can't really advise you on that, since I have no children, but, I don't think killing her love interest, would help your case in the long run. Besides, if Klaus gets killed every vampire sired by his line, will be killed too, and that includes several of my friends." I explained, forcing myself to remain calm. "If you want to stop Klaus, then it could be done differently as well. A way that won't cost you your life."

"Killing Klaus—"

"Can only happen when you channel the power of a hundred witches?"

"I'm starting to believe the 'I have seen things' comment," Luka muttered dryly.

I ignored the sarcasm and inched to the edge of the rickety wooden chair I'd settled on. "If you channel that much power, it will kill you."

"When Klaus is weakened, Elijah can—"

"Klaus is Elijah's kid-brother. You can't really hate your kid-brother," I whispered.

"Elijah is a man of his word—"

"Could you ever really hate your sister?" I implored softly and an expression of pain flitted over Luka's face. "Could you really hate your daughter?" I continued looking into Mr Martin's face. "I don't think you can ever truly hate them. Not really. Especially not if you know where someone is coming from. Klaus is a monster, I'll not deny that he is, but he wasn't born like that. He didn't decide to become one overnight, he had a lot of time before getting there. Had a lot of narcissistic and uncaring people, especially his deranged father, to get there."

"You sound as if you sympathize with him," Luka whispered.

"I don't. But I do feel sorry a child had to grow up hated the way he did."

"Still sounds to me like—"

I licked my lips, shaking my head. "No. I can relate. My cousin had an abusive mom. It took her years to understand it wasn't because she did something wrong. And even now, she has to fight the repercussions of the way she'd been raised. Of the time she was beaten and hurt." I explained, remembering Maya's gaunt and hollowed-out face. Remembered her drinking. "She died— Alcohol poisoning— and—

"What cousin?" Mr Martin suddenly asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Ah," I gasped. Fuck, Elena didn't have a cousin like that. "I can't explain it."

"You'll have to."

"No," I shook my head, "I don't. I owe no one an explanation."

Mr Martin's hand shot out and curled tightly around my wrist, sending a shockwave of pain through the limb. Mr Martin's eyes rolled back in his head and he began to tremble as if his body was convulsing, but I didn't think it did.

Pain settled behind my temples and I struggled, bumping into a horrified Luka as I shot to my feet. Another tug, but it wasn't enough and as random images of my life, of my past life, flashed before me, I understood.

I yanked so hard at my arm I was acutely aware of the pop in my shoulder. Did I just dislocate my shoulder, but I kept going. Kept twisting my arm away until Mr Martin couldn't help but let go of me. My back hit the granite counter hard and I gasped.

"You're—"

He couldn't have seen everything. When Sheila prowled through my mind, she'd needed a lot longer to get the full picture, but he knew. I could tell in the way his eyes met mine.

"You're not from this world."

"You—" I started, my face flushing darkly, "—you just, how could you do that?" I snapped.

"A parallel universe—"

"Yes," I hissed, curling my fingers tightly around the granite counter.

Mr Martin slowly blinked as though I'd come to him in a drug haze and Luka was openly trembling, having gotten to his feet at some point, and now pressed himself against the front of the fridge. My blood pumping through my veins felt painful beneath my skin and I swallowed. The horrible things I wanted to say, died an abrupt death and I breathed out harshly.

"So that was how you knew." Mr Martin whispered, steeping his fingers together.

"Yes," I hissed, "that's how I knew. How could you do this?"

"You were lying."

"I wasn't lying. I'm entitled to my privacy." I grumbled, squeezing the counter hard. With the anger curling through my bloodstream, my vision had started to swim, the lines of Mr Martin's face trembling and he weaved in and out of symmetry. "Either way, it's because I know that I'm trying to discuss this with you. In the original timeline, every one of your family dies." I let my eyes flit to Luka. "First your son, then you and then your daughter. And you know the funny part? None of them gets killed by Klaus."

"Did Elijah—"

"No, he didn't betray you," I admitted. "But since I don't know how things will go this time around, I'd think you would want to be careful."

"You're lying," Luka whispered, "you have to be lying."

"I'm not."

"Where is the real Elena?" Mr Martin interrupted what might have become a slinging match.

"How am I supposed to know?" I asked in irritation, Luka glaring at me from my peripheral vision. The constant pellets of the rain pounding on the roof only seemed to make my headache worse. "I've never heard, felt or otherwise noticed Elena's presence. I don't have her memories, not even her muscle memory which I'd actually have appreciated on numerous moments."

"A spell like that would need a colossal amount of power—" Mr Martin mumbled, "—and would definitely have resulted in the death of the witch or warlock who did that."

"Yeah, thank you," I grumbled sarcastically. "I already knew that."

"You won't be able to go back without that witch." He clarified between tightly gritted teeth.

"I know that too," I growled and I closed my eyes, dropping my head against the wooden kitchen cabinet behind me. Inhaling deeply, pushing my anger and my building temper deeply away. "Besides, even if the witch was alive I'd need a connection to my previous body or Elena in my body and I don't even have that. So, yes, I know I'm pretty much screwed and stuck here."

"Yeah," Mr Martin agreed noncommittally.

"It doesn't change what I've told you," I said, my tone frosty, "if you try to kill Klaus, you will hurt a lot more people than just that psychopathic Original."

Both Mr Martin's and Luka's expressions were mutinous. I understood their expressions. They were upset, tired, angry and they didn't want to believe me, but— they did.

I had no reason to want and protect Klaus. I didn't— I wanted to live even if that meant living as someone else, but if the Martin's lost (and I felt it was slightly inevitable) while I had played a key part in their plans, then Klaus would never agree to anything.

He would drag me around, compel me to behave and force me to be his walking, talking blood-bag and hybrid-making-machine.

"Your whole family getting slaughtered— An entire bloodline of vampires being killed. Some of which are good and honest people. Which aspect of either of those things sounds even remotely appealing to you?" I tried, forcefully uncurling my fingers. "Bonnie Bennett's mother turned Klaus' father into stone. Or desiccated him and he is the strongest of the Originals. We would only need that spell— and with a bit more magic— that would be a far better solution, wouldn't it?" I continued, keeping my tone purposefully mild.

"We have to think about this." Mr Martin whispered and I nodded. It was as good as I would get. I levelled Mr Martin with a determined stare, already moving to the door and he nodded. It almost went unnoticed, the barest dip of his chin, but it was enough.

I quickly made my way out of the Martins' apartment. My skin felt jittery, chilled with apprehension as well as cold air but I never looked back. Perhaps I should have. Perhaps it was preposterous to think I could outwit a villain like Klaus. I certainly hadn't been the first one who had tried, but— I didn't have anything else. I had to try—

It took two days for the tempestuous sheets of rain to lessen and the sun to break out weakly through the swirl of clouds. I was outside, as dusk began to descend, the rays of sunlight stretching long and lean along the horizon.

My forehead was gleaming with perspiration and my lungs expanded most deliciously. I hadn't jogged in a while (not since I'd gotten stuck in Elena Gilbert's body) and the normality of it, felt wonderful. Drawing the back of my hand across my damp brow, I quickened my pace, enjoying the way my blood pumped through my veins.

The air was crisp with the hint of impending winter and swirls of fog escaped my mouth. I hadn't felt more alive in months.

I inhaled deeply again, the chill and damp felt wonderful against my skin, even though a knot of pain had formed between my shoulders. A mist had risen above the ground. The cold of the day dispersing in a glitter of droplets ascending in the sunlight.

Further up the block, on the grassy strip adjacent to the fence, a Labrador sniffed. His nose to the ground, darting around the low underbrush. I turned the corner, my sneakers beating down onto the pavement and I veered into Maple Street.

With Thanksgiving Break, there was no school today, nor would I have to attend any classes tomorrow, which was also the reason why not even rush hour had started up yet. I wasn't sure if it would at all and—

The air in my lungs was waning and my calves were burning and I flopped forward, catching myself on the fence surrounding I gasped, flopping forward, a strand of damp wavy hair escaping from the braid I'd wrestled it in.

Leaning my hands heavily on my knees I fought to control my breathing. Pressing my hands against my lower back, I stretched out my spine. I had never liked jogging, but— it felt so satisfying.

The burn and ache of the muscles and the strain on the sinew along them felt absolutely delicious. Even if I was now pretty much exhausted and slowly made my way up to the Gilbert house.

Grayson had gone out for a council meeting; Jeremy would probably sleep in and Miranda had been drinking her daily dose of vervain tea in the living room when I'd left. I supposed the vampire problem terrorizing the town weighed heavily on her mind. Kicking off my damp shoes in the hallway, I got myself a cup of coffee from the kitchen and traipsed into the living room.

I froze in the door opening, a greeting already on my lips, but instead of drinking coffee and staring at whatever she'd been reading when I'd gone out to jog, Miranda lay curled up on her side on the couch. Fast asleep.

The lights from the floor-length windows streamed in, flooding the room. I crouched down before her, carefully lifting her arm. She was limp with sleep, and I easily rolled Miranda over on her back, pulling one of the papers loose without waking her.

It was a research paper about the regenerative property of skin tissue, and I didn't even know why she was reading it. Or I did when my eyes found a familiar name between the other two authors. Grayson Gilbert had had a hand in writing it and I cocked my head to the side.

It was a recent publication too and I traced the other names. They didn't sound familiar and I supposed I should congratulate Elena's father — my father in a way, I supposed — when I saw him next and gathered the other papers before dropping them on the coffee table. The morning light had just about touched the curve of Miranda's ear.

I shook my head, searching around until I found the blanket she usually used in the evening and covered her with it. The tensed muscles in her neck relaxed almost immediately and curled up on the loveseat adjacent of the couch, eyes roving over the paper.

Adding a growth factor, factor X (what was this, a Marvel script) to several participants who'd been horribly burned in some fire. The results were good, even if factor X was never further explained. Some synthetic made growth factor—

A car was pulling up on the Gilbert's driveway. I listened to someone coming up the porch steps and open the door a moment later and I leant back in my seat. I heard the hustle of his keys as he dropped them in the bowl beside the door and the creak of the floorboards on the landing before he peeked inside.

"Oh, hello, Elena," Grayson greeted, stepping into the living room further upon seeing me.

"Hi Dad," I greeted back and he stepped closer, his dark eyes wide and earnest.

"What do you have there, sweetheart?" He smiled, his hair and clothes smelled of tobacco. He looked cheerful enough, but beneath his eyes, dark circles had formed. I guessed without any new leads or the magical compass in their possession they weren't making much progress in finding the vampire terrorizing the town.

Or who had been terrorizing the town? There hadn't been any more attacks with Damon locked up.

"Oh your research paper," I smiled, "congratulations, looks interesting enough."

"Ah," he smiled, looking strangely shy about it and accepted the papers, "thank you. It still has to be approved by the board though."

"Ah," I smiled. I had no idea what board. Didn't ethical commissions approve a study beforehand? I had no idea. He went to his desk, dumping his papers in a desk drawer and turned to me again, his eyes flitting over my yoga pants. "Gone out for a run?"

"No," I drolly replied, "I like taking long walks in my jogging outfit."

"Sarcasm, nice." He sniggered.

"How did your meeting go?"

He ran a hand through his hair, "it went fine."

I doubted that. I couldn't remember ever watching an episode featuring thanksgiving during season one, or any other season, really, but there were a lot of vampires around. Anna and Pearl, Caroline and Stefan. Even Elijah, although I had no idea if he was staying in Mystic Falls or not. I hoped Anna and Pearl had at least left and shook my head. Banishing the vampire-related thoughts to the back burner of my mind I looked up at Grayson's face again.

"I'm glad."

"—Glad about what?" Miranda Gilbert asked, sitting up while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"My meeting went well," Grayson answered noncommittally.

"Oh," she smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "Well, that's good, Elena, would you help your father with breakfast? Perhaps you two could start with some preparations for tonight?"

"Yeah sure," I mumbled, turning to Grayson. Why did it feel that I was missing something?

"You want Elena to help me?" Grayson asked, looking vaguely worried. Right, Elena couldn't cook.

"What do you want to make?" I asked, making an effort to sound offended.

"I thought you'd like Chicken parmesan." He answered smiling.

"Sure, sounds good."

"Only good?" Grayson teased and I shrugged.

"Erm, yeah?" I smiled. I hadn't had chicken in— well, years. "Very good?"

Grayson grumbled. "You can never win with you lot, can you?" And I followed him into the kitchen with a frown. I was missing something. Again. Or I thought I was, it was hard to concentrate on all that I was missing.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Seventeen, Lethal White

Thanksgiving break passed in a blur and December the first started as a sunny, cold winter day. A faint breeze tempered the air, tousling my hair as I marched up towards the school. The weekend had been a bit unreal, without anything supernatural happening.

Grayson had cooked up Elena's favorite meal, chicken parmesan, and invited Jenna and Alaric to stay for what he called 'Family night'. The normality of it all had been a welcome reprieve for a change.

Without the job as a history teacher available at Mystic Fall's High School, Alaric had accepted a position at Whitmore College. It was only an hour away from Mystic Falls and, to Jenna's great delight, it was also the place where Jenna was trying for a major in psychology. It had made my heartache for my parents and their silly family dinners.

Hitching my leather bag up on my shoulder, I pushed inside the school building. The linoleum floors were gleaming from the dampness outside and the soles of our shoes squeaked over the ground. My eyes widening when I noticed Caroline's blonde hair. She looked frazzled and erratic, which, I suppose was understandable.

I remembered that newly transitioned vampires took the heightened emotions and heightened personality traits in strides. The younger the vampire the harder it all was to control. I could only imagine what an iron sort of control that girl had, for her to be around so many potential snacks so quickly after her turning.

I made my way over. "Hi Caroline," I greeted, smiling gently when Caroline turned a tad too quickly.

"Oh, hello Elena," she nodded.

"How've you been doing?" I asked, falling into step with her.

"I'm okay, I guess," she said and her blue eyes narrowed, "Though, I'm a bit peeved you're planning your death, Elena."

"For God sake, Stefan," I grumbled.

"So it's true?" Caroline asked horrified and I rubbed my fingers awkwardly over my face.

"Yes," I agreed and watched Caroline's face change expressions fast.

"It's not okay, Elena. It's not fair," she whispered, face settled on pensive and dejected.

"Life isn't fair, Care." I shrugged. "Just trust me, I have a plan."

The color drained from Caroline's face, paling so rapidly, I was worried, she would faint, and she grabbed my shoulder hard. Hard enough to bruise, hard enough to grind the bones together. I gasped, every muscle and tendon tense, and when the whites of Caroline's eyes turned red, I stopped breathing.

My front teeth clamped over my lower lip and I stood very still, frozen. My muscles were drawn taut, my eyes fixed on Caroline's.

It took a moment for her to gain control again. Breathing in deeply. "Why would you let someone kill you?"

"Because if I fight, that someone will kill everyone I've ever met."

"But Damon said—"

"Really, you've spoken to Damon?" I asked and couldn't keep the scorn and distaste out of my voice. "He's probably lying or changing the story to fit his agenda. I have it under control, I promise. Just keep out of it."

She followed me down the hall, up the stairs and towards the biology classroom. Her judging eyes burned holes in my back, and I kept mine resolutely to my feet. Absentmindedly, I listened to the good-natured complaining about some paper that was due the following week for biology (which I'd forgotten about).

Brushing a lock of hair away from my eyes, I slid into a seat in the back row. Dropping my bag on my desk with calculated calm, I turned to Caroline again. She'd taken the seat next to me, still glaring at me and I intertwined my fingers together. "Well, go ahead. What do you want to say?"

Caroline tilted her head slightly. "Why?"

"Why?" I muttered. "Why I've been planning my death, as you so adequately put it?"

"Yes!" She hissed.

"Because I don't want everyone to get killed just because of me," I muttered and she shook her head.

"You don't get it, do you? Damon and Stefan and I can help you," Caroline whispered. "We just have to think of a plan. Besides, why would you even have to die? Because some asshole thinks he deserves to live forever? What's the point anyway?"

"I don't—" I started, having stiffened where I sat, my blood icing through my body.

"No, I mean what kind of curse? Why does some guy want to break some curse anyway?"

"Oh," I mumbled, my eyes darting around the room checking if no one was listening in, "it's old. Binds a part of him." I tried. I couldn't know so much, but then again. What was the point in lying? Drawing my tongue along my front teeth I tweaked the zipper of my pencil casing. "After a thousand years, this guy wants to be free of the curse placed upon him. And he needs my blood, all of it, to do it. I don't want to— I mean who would, but I rather like the road of the least resistance in this case. There is too much at stake here, Care, please, be reasonable."

Caroline's eyes were dark and round. "The road of the least resistance? What the fuck!" She hissed and the teacher turned with several muscles twitching beneath his eyes. We both clamped our teeth together and I almost imagine hearing the click of our molars.

"You shouldn't!" She whispered. "You should fight. Fight, bite, scratch, anything!"

"I can't win," I whispered, voice reasonably controlled. "Pretty much every plan consists out of me dying," I explained, "even if there are means to come back, and there are, I'd rather not be involved in a plan with a high risk to go wrong and then get the blame for it."

"So, you don't want to be part of a rescue plan?" Caroline said, breathing slowly, exercising control.

"Caroline—"

"No, I get it." She nodded vigorously and I got the vague idea she was seeing me as her new project.

"You shouldn't get involved either," I muttered annoyed.

"You're my friend. I definitely need to get involved."

Was this the right time to tell her I was not Elena? Or that I was not the Elena she'd grown up with? I bit down on my lower lip hard. She would probably think I was lying, and I averted my eyes and forced my eyes to my textbook.

Everyone I didn't want to be involved was getting involved, one way or the other. Caroline didn't say anything again, having brought out her cellphone. I watched her fingers skim over the screen but couldn't tell who she was texting. But my guess would be Stefan. He pretty much became her best friend after she turned, and I swallowed.

"Miss Gilbert," Mr Vernon, grumbled and I felt my face flush, and he turned to Caroline with a distasteful expression, "Miss Forbes, am I interrupting something?"

"No, Sir," I mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"You'd think you girls would value these repetitions a bit more, hm? Perhaps some detention—"

"I'm so sorry, Sir," Caroline simpered, interrupting him in the middle of his sentence, and when Vernon looked at Caroline, her pupils dilated, "we'll be silent now. Don't you think that's enough for this once?"

"I—" he looked befuddled for a second before his eyes regained focus again, "perhaps this once."

"Thank you!" She grinned and I shook my head at her.

"You shouldn't have done that," I whispered so lowly, I was barely understandable even to myself.

She just grinned and I dropped my head on my hands and I groaned. I was already missing the supernatural free weekend. Forcing my face up, staring resolutely at the empty page in my biology notebook, I sat through the rest of the class.

I was only barely aware of the ongoing ramblings of our homeroom teacher. He also taught biology and droned on and on about the classification of plants. Droned on about the characteristic features and examples. He droned on and on and at some point, I couldn't even pretend to take notes anymore and just stared out of the window, lost in thought.

I was so lost in thought that when the bell rung — chairs scraped and school bags were hoisted up onto shoulders — and the students moved towards the exits as one, I remained seated. My eyes still fixed out of the window. When Caroline appeared in my line of vision, I almost screamed.

"Let's go," Caroline ordered and she snatched my wrist, pulling me up to my feet with one tug.

"Go where?" I gasped, my shoulder aching from the sudden sharp jerk.

"Come on!" She rasped, ignoring me and I gasped when she threw my bookbag into my arms.

I pitched my bag over my shoulder, fingers rolling over the sore muscle and frowned. "Go where Caroline? Don't you have Italian?"

"Yes, and I'm skipping it." She told me, dragging me away. "You are skipping calculus."

"Caroline!"

"No buts, Elena." She told me imperiously. "We are going to talk about this."

"Wonderful."

Caroline marched me up to her silver Mercedes and drove us to her home. Once there, she yanked me into the house, up the stairs and into her bedroom. I couldn't remember Caroline's bedroom from the show. I thought there had been a bookcase with a twilight book in it and a double bed.

It was a lot like that, I supposed. A double bed with a large wooden headboard. The walls were a warm light-washed brown, light floor-length curtains drawn back and sunlight streaming in through the large window. An inbuilt closet adjacent to the right side of the bed, a dark rosewood bookcase next to the window, filled to the brim with books, magazines and a silver jewelry box and on top several pictures gleamed in the sunlight. In front of the window an antique, wooden coat rack stood.

All kinds of clothes matted the floor of the closet, which had been left open and I perched on the edge of Caroline's pale spread bed, my sock-clad toes curling into the carpet. Caroline padded across the carpet through the room, dropped her leather shoulder bag inside her closet and slung her jacket over the coat rack.

The composed way she drew her hands over the leather shoulders of the jacket, made me feel, she was postponing what was probably not going to be a pleasant chat.

"So—" I started awkwardly and Caroline flopped onto the bed beside me, rolling onto her stomach.

"So—" Caroline echoed, "—why do you need to be sacrificed? That's something I still don't get."

"Because I'm the Doppelgänger," I answered and slowly, I shifted back on the bed as well, looking up at the white ceiling. "The blood of the Doppelgänger was used to do the spell on him— the Original. And therefore, only the blood of the Doppelgänger can break the curse." I continued. I purposely kept my explanation vague, but Caroline seemed satisfied enough with my story. Satisfied enough to keep firing questions, at least.

"A Doppelgänger?"

"Basically a person who shares the exact physical appearance of someone else."

"Like a twin?"

"I guess that's close—" I agreed, "—but even identical twins have differences, like fingerprints. A doppelgänger is a magical occurrence. They're absolutely identical. Appearance, blood, height, weight, even fingerprints." I inhaled. "There's no real way to tell two of them apart."

"Shit!" Caroline whispered. "So is there another you?"

"Erm—" I rolled over on my side, "—yeah, but I think you've already heard of her?"

"Katherine," Caroline nodded knowingly and then frowned as if she'd eaten something that disagreed with her. "Stefan's ex-girlfriend."

"Damon's too."

"And she looks exactly like you?" Caroline frowned.

I nodded. Since both Elena and Katherine were played by the same actress, I could say with absolute certainty that the two doppelgängers were absolutely identical. "Yes, exactly like me."

"Creepy!"

"You have no idea." I agreed.

"Still doesn't explain why you willingly want to go to your own slaughter," Caroline muttered.

"No," I agreed, "but I have a plan. And with a bit of help, I'll survive."

"And what is this plan of yours, Elena?" Caroline asked, her voice disapproving. "Because it sounds to me that you want to let some monster sacrifice you. And unless you're planning on becoming a vampire too, I don't see how you want to come back."

"I reached out to— well, someone who's like Klaus and his witch friend," I responded vaguely. "The vampire has a potion that can bring me back to life and the witches can help dealing with Klaus."

"Klaus is the big bad Original right?"

"Yes."

"I don't like this, Elena," Caroline retorted, fingering the corner of the quilt on her bed.

"I don't like this much, either, but I can't really do anything about it," I explained. "Listen, Care, I was planning on doing this without anyone knowing. Just— I'll be fine. You should worry about yourself. How have you been doing?"

"Better," she replied dismissively, "Stefan says I'm having a good control."

"You have," I agreed, hoping she would drop the sacrifice subject.

"Isn't there a way to kill Klaus?" Caroline opted, obviously determined to not let the subject drop.

"If there is then you, Stefan and Damon will die too." I tried. "Listen, if Klaus gets killed, every one from his bloodline dies. I've asked the witch— the other Original's witch to look into desiccating Klaus but believe me. I wish we did, but we can't kill them. I don't want to be the reason for mass genocide."

And I didn't. I didn't think I could live with myself after condemning thousands of people (vampires were still people and I was sure not every one of them was a murderous monster) to death. I already felt bad enough for Bonnie's death and Caroline's turning. Being a fucking mass-murderer would definitely not make it high up the list of how to feel better.

"Are you sure about that?" She asked, rolling over on her side. "Sounds dodgy to me."

"I am a hundred percent sure, Caroline."

"Oh." She frowned, her voice low and husky. "We could run away together. I mean, I can compel people. We could be halfway into Europe when this Klaus comes to Mystic Falls and—"

"He'll kill everyone who so much has heard about me," I replied somberly. "I can't, Care."

"But—"

"Can we please do something else?" I almost begged. "Perhaps a movie or—"

"We can watch the Notebook!" Caroline grinned, and her sudden change of emotion had me reeling.

"Erm sure."

We both rolled onto our stomachs and Caroline set up her laptop. It took barely five minutes before she had The Notebook running and I leant my chin back on my intertwined hands. My mind was otherwise occupied, and I absentmindedly watched Noah Calhoun hanging from the Ferris Wheel, while Allie Hamilton screams sounded high and shrill.

I often refused to think about the sacrifice. Just as I refused to think about Bonnie's and Sheila's death. I didn't want to think about Klaus and about his often psychotic ways of dealing with people who didn't agree with him. I didn't want to think about Katherine, somewhere probably watching everyone move across the chessboard only she could so masterfully manipulate. I wondered why I'd even liked this show. Or why I'd liked the first few seasons. True, it had been entertaining, but living through it— It was stressful. And no amount of jogging would destress me anytime soon.

Perhaps I should start following kickboxing classes again. I'd followed several in my previous life and I'd like it. Perhaps I should try and get Alaric to give me some vampire-self-defence training — that was if he would stay around. Jenna certainly went out of her way to be in Mystic Falls and I doubted it had anything to do with Logan Scumfell. When his broken, scrawled out form on the Salvatore living room surfaced from my mind, gasping for bread while blood dribbled down his chin, I forced my mind back to the movie, just in time to see Noah and Allie kiss.

"I'll be seeing you," Noah whispered, fingers curling around Allie's old and withered hand.

The scene changed and I averted my eyes to Caroline as the nurse moved into the hospital room the two main characters have curled up together. I knew she would find them dead. Caroline was in tears by the time the credits for The Notebook began and I watched in absolute amusement as she mopped her sleeve over her flushed face. "That ending always gets to me."

"How often have you seen it now?" I asked and her face went flat with irritation.

"Not that often— this month."

"Right." I sniggered.

Caroline huffed, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. "It's better than the rom-com you like."

"Ouch, that was harsh," I remarked sarcastically.

"You deserved that," Caroline remarked wryly, lips quirking, and I rolled on my side.

"Of course, I did."

Her expression became uncomfortably contemplative, bordering on smug and I knew I was missing something. I was probably missing something. How could I not? Elena and Caroline had been friends since kindergarten. I was sure there was a lot I did not know.

"Did you know there's a different version?" I asked.

"What?"

"Yeah, I think the beginning is different," I admitted. "There is some heavy petting at the beginning."

"What, really?" At my nod, she scoffed, audibly unimpressed. '"I'm so Googling this."

"By all means."

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard of her laptop, obviously contemplating if truth rung from my earlier admission and finally decided not to risk it when I was in the same room. It was almost laughable how worried Caroline was of my contempt. How insecure she was, and I felt bad. I wondered, how often she'd felt like an afterthought to everyone who surrounded her.

"Hey," I tried, "it doesn't matter, right? If I'm right or wrong, okay."

"Of course, not," she smiled. It didn't reach her eyes.

"I should probably go." I patted her shoulder and got to my feet. "My parents are expecting me."

They weren't. Grayson had to do an evening shift and Miranda couldn't cook to save her life, so I doubted she would be surprised if I ate something somewhere else. I recalled the fiasco that was Miranda's homemade lasagna.

"Ah, sure. Do you need me to drive you?" Caroline piped up as she followed me down the wooden pair of stairs and into the entrance hall. The walls here were a light mint green, several picture frames covering one wall, while the other held a coat rack.

Above my head, a chandelier-like lamp sparkled in the sunlight. I padded across the landing, again, trying not to look around with curious eyes, because— Elena Gilbert had been here before.

"It's fine, Care," I smiled, "I know the way."

"If you're sure—"

"I am," I smiled tightly, "I just need to think. I need a bit of fresh air to do that."

"Okay," she allowed and walked me to the front door.

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yep."

"Okay, bye!" I smiled and slipped outside. I'd almost made it out of the front yard when Caroline's voice stopped me. With a tired sigh, I turned towards her. "Yes?"

"Promise me, you'll rethink the running plan! I mean, I can go with you!"

"I promise."

It was the first lie I'd told Caroline today and I quickly stepped onto the pavement. Never looking back, I made my way out of Caroline's street. Chips of pale blue sky showed through the almost completely bare tree branches. I let out a long, shuddering breath as a gust of wind whipped through the trees. My long hair whisked around my face and I pushed my hands deep into the sleeves of my coat.

The sky was getting darker. Dark orange and purple streaks of sunlight pierced the darkening empyrean above me, and I shuddered when another gust of wind raked through my coat. I shivered, almost feeling I would never get warm again.

When a car pulled up next to me, matching my speed, I didn't look up, only quickened my pace. The car came to a halt when it reached me again and I twirled around sharply.

Damon's blue Camaro pulled into an available spot among the trees and Damon lounged in the driver's seat. He had an arm stretched over the wheel and the other wrapped around the headrest of the passenger-seat, fingers waggling at me.

I remembered vividly what I'd said the last time I'd seen him, and a strangled frightened gasp worked its way free from my throat. I felt my face paling, my heart rate picking up and I scrambled backwards until I hit an iron-wrought fence.

"Damon!"

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Eighteen, Dangerous Liaisons

He immediately went for the door handle, opening the door to the passenger seat and my hands trembled, fingers tightly curling around the iron wrought fence and adrenaline spread through my chest and limbs. I couldn't outrun him, I couldn't fight him off, not really and I tried to focus. Biting my lower lip so hard I drew blood, I tried to think about what I'd learned in self-defence class.

There were rules. Run if you can, out of the question. Don't let him get on top— yeah, I didn't think he would let me get one over him by pushing my vervain necklace against his face again and—

Damon unfolded out of the car slowly, smirking and I made a gasping sort of noise. "What do you want?"

"Don't be afraid." He said slowly and his lips began to purse as if he'd consumed something sour.

"I'm not speaking to you," I hissed angrily. I had no idea when he'd ever been let out of the cellar.

"Oh, come on, Elena," he groaned, "you have to."

"Go away, Damon, please, just go away!"

He took a step closer, lightly straightening the collar of his black button-down shirt. My hands balled into fists, if I was going to die, it would not be like a cornered dog. He came to a halt when he reached me, blue eyes intense and alive. "None of this should have happened. Going after your friends was a low thing to do."

It sounded rehearsed, but moreover, it was not what I had expected, and my eyebrows furrowed tightly together. I tried to breathe more deeply and raised my arms to wrap them around my waist. There was a catch in my throat, and I felt hot. "What?"

"I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," he admitted and I tried to swallow.

"You shouldn't have reacted the way you did?"

"No."

"Damon, two people are dead because of this," I whispered, lacing my words with anger.

A blank expression crossed his face before it was hidden away behind one of his masks. "Yes, I wish that was different."

I ground my teeth together, swallowing the row of insults that was building into my throat. The last time he felt I'd pushed him he'd lashed out on me in the most horrendous way and I had no shortage of people who would have to pay the price for it. Inhaling deeply, I licked my lips. "Wishing things were different, doesn't make them different."

"Okay, fine, you're right. Could you please come with me?"

Son of a bitch, I thought but held my tongue, breathed in deeply and then met his bright, blue eyes. "No." I retorted flatly. "Absolutely not, I'd rather eat glass."

Raising his eyebrows in what I recognized as a challenge, he cocked his head to the side. "I thought you were this brave little heroine, dreaming to fight off evil, riding your judgmental white horse and all that?"

"I thought you were a psychopath on speed— oh wait— you are."

"See, brave, little Buffy." He sneered and I wondered if it was a genetic impulse to make that exact expression. I'd seen it on Stefan's face too. "Listen, honey, I need you to come with me. I'm not going to hurt you, scout's honor." He continued, unaware of my thoughts and I wondered if this was more of a dare than a challenge. It didn't feel like an intimidation tactic (he could have just told me he would kill me if I didn't come along) and I was unsure what I should do. Elena would have gone with him, wouldn't she? She might have not forgiven him yet, but she would have gone with him.

A breeze fluttered by, traipsing through the trees and I curled my fingers in my hair, forcing the strands away from my face. "Why?" I finally settled on. "What do you want from me?"

"Stefan and I want to discuss your suicide mission."

"Call Caroline, I already had an intervention."

"This is not an intervention. This is business." He told me and then his face became serious. "I could ask your father? Tell him what his daughter's planning on doing?"

"I could tell him where to look to find the animal responsible for the multiple attacks," I huffed drolly. The sun was sinking, and as the sky darkened, deep, grey shadows fell across the street.

"Fair enough." He pursed his lips. "Please, Elena."

"—I,"

"Elena," he needled in that whining way of his.

"Fine," I muttered, before meeting his eyes.

The sky was darkening even more, and I realized it wasn't just the inky darkness of night, but a swirl of several unvarying steel-grey clouds curling together. The wind had the promise of rain and I inhaled deeply. Damon grinned, opening the passenger for me.

I gave him a dark look. "You better feed me. I'm not missing dinner for some stupid intervention— Oh, I'm sorry to talk business."

Damon snorted, tilted his head to the side and nodded. "I'm a good cook." He lamented.

"Vegetarian chicken and parmesan," I told him, my eyes narrowing. "No discussion."

I'd fucking loved the chicken and parmesan (even after picking the chicken out) when Grayson had made it. Being alive for hundred-and-sixty years must have had its perks for cooking. And wasn't his surname Italian?

Didn't it mean Savior?

Perhaps, I shouldn't have gone with him craving food the way I did right now.

Him being Italian didn't have to mean he could cook. I somehow just thought it would fit him. Cooking that was. Evil mastermind and cooking seemed to be a thing, after all.

Damon snorted, "Chicken and parmesan, by all means. Elena, get in the car."

"I'm still on vervain," I warned him huffily.

"I can tell," he muttered and I stiffly settled in the passenger's seat of his Camaro.

I'd just buckled myself in when the first spots of rain spattered on the window-screen. Damon geared the car into the street. I hadn't even seen him taken a seat behind the wheel and peered out the window. He didn't say anything during the ride, our surroundings only a blur around us.

When we reached the boarding house, I struggled with the seatbelt for a moment and Damon gave me an amused look. "Elena?" Damon asked.

I'd curled my fingers around the door handle. "What is it now, Damon?" I asked annoyed.

"I'm sorry."

I peered into his eyes, peering as if somehow the title specks of brown around his pupils, or the curve of his lips. I didn't find anything. Or I didn't find anything remotely like deceit and averted my eyes. "Right, erm, thank you," I muttered and jumped out of the passenger seat and whirled up the gravel path towards the shadowed porch.

Damon appeared next to me, his hand settling on my shoulder as he pushed me inside the house and down the somewhat familiar hallway. He only let go of me once we'd arrived at the living room and he ventured further inside.

"Drink?" He asked while I settled on the arm of the couch.

"Sure." I managed through clenched teeth and Damon shuffled to the drink cabinet, picked up a crystal decanter and poured an amber liquid into a crystal glass. Bourbon I guessed.

I accepted one of the glasses with a frown, sniffing what I thought was bourbon. I knew it was the expensive kind (I remembered from the show that Damon kept very expensive bottles in his cabinet), but I'd never really appreciated strong liquors. Which meant that even the most expensive liquors were wasted on me.

However, I thought a good drink would settle my nerves. Drawing my thumb over the glass, I brought the glass to my lips and took a gulp. The alcohol went down and left a burning trail down my esophagus and I coughed at the aftertaste.

"Yeah, it's strong."

"No kidding," I mumbled. "What do you want, Damon?" I asked and blinked profusely. "Where are Stefan and Zach?"

"Stefan will be here soon enough." He answered, rolling his glass in his hands.

"And Zach?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"He's out of town," Damon answered drolly and I guffawed.

"You killed him?"

He waggled his fingers. "Don't be so judgmental, Elena."

"Oh, sorry," I replied sarcastically, "it just flares up in the nearness of psychopaths."

I considered the sofa as if it would bite me and then, irritated and not overly sure he wouldn't try and do something to me, stomped through the room, settling on the windowsill, drawing my legs up beneath my chin. I held my glass in white-knuckled fingers, peering at its contents with a frown. Regaining my courage, I stared Damon straight in the eyes. "Did you kill your nephew?"

"No." He sneered. "No, I didn't. I probably should have though."

"Acting without thinking— I don't think I get that when you can kill with the flick of your wrist."

"Hm." He replied.

I wasn't sure if it was in agreement or not and he took a step towards me. Cheeks flushing, I averted my gaze. "Where's the food?"

"You are a demanding one aren't you?"

"You made me a deal," I remarked and I liked his peeved expression far too much.

"All right," he finally conceded. "Damn, I feel bad for future little Gilbert spawn."

"Har har."

He moved away from the living room and I rolled the crystal glass through my fingers. Cradling it between both my hands I took a small sip and again, I winced. Perhaps it was a naive thing to do, to believe Damon wouldn't hurt me just because he'd said so. His word barely ever amounted to more than just an empty promise, but I wasn't going to make a presence I wasn't curious. Talking business, he'd said. Rolling my shoulders, I brought the glass to my lips again and took a large, clumsy gulp. Some of the amber liquid trickled down the corner of my mouth and I coughed harshly. Dropping the glass on the coffee table, I inched off the windowsill and moved forward. The fire was burning low in the large stone fireplace and the warm firelight threw strange shadows over the rug.

On a small table beside the huge bookcase, several yellow-paged books lay open. Dust obscured the titles and with a curious tilt of my head, I prodded through the pile. A few books, leather-bound and, as I realized later, written by hand, were still clean and my fingers twitched. "What are these?"

"A few of Stefan's journals."

"Ah!" I gasped, dropping both journals without another look and twirled around. "Damon!"

"Bad form Elena, you wouldn't really want to intrude on someone's privacy, would you?"

"I— I didn't know, I—" I started and flushed, "—you're one to talk!"

"Come along, Elena," he grinned and I followed him.

The smell of the food was heavenly, but it certainly wasn't chicken and parmesan. I frowned, slowly moving towards the small island stove. Definitely not chicken and parmesan and I frowned. "What is this?"

"Chicken Alfredo."

"Not parmesan," I mumbled, although it did smell wonderful.

"No, and I left out the chicken. I had no idea you didn't eat meat," Damon agreed and placed a plate on the island counter, "but it's really good."

I couldn't help but agree once I had my first bite. It was fantastic. Almost on par with the chicken parmesan Grayson had made. He must have noticed my contentment from the expression on my face because Damon almost glowed in pride. I ignored, having eaten— had I even had breakfast this morning? I wasn't sure and gobbling the pasta down. The sun had fully set, and dark shadows rocked across the walls. The front door opened; it was even audible to my ears as the front door slammed into a wall.

"Ah, the company is here." He grinned.

"Yeah, Stefan, I presume."

"Definitely," he agreed.

"Hm—" I mumbled and drew my fork along the rim of my plate, "—how did you get out?"

"Out of the cell you wished I would rot into for an unforeseeable time?"

"Well, yes!"

He smiled offering me a basket with what I assumed was garlic bread. "Well, I thought you'd figured it out by now." He drawled, leaning his elbows on the island counter. "I traded my freedom to your martyr story."

"Hm, yeah, thank you for that."

"You should be glad too," Damon cockily remarked and considered flipping my spoon at his head.

The kitchen door opened, and I straightened up and twirled around. My pulse thrummed beneath my skin, blood rising in a heady rush. Elijah's handsome face peered back at me, a pleasant smile curling his lips up. My cheeks flushed darkly.

"Elijah?"

"Elena," Elijah greeted easily, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket. "Good evening."

"What are you doing here?"

"Discussing the terms of our agreement." Elijah drawled dryly.

Elijah stepped further into the room, followed by a reluctant looking Stefan Salvatore and a stony-faced Jonas Martin. So, it wasn't an actual intervention, I supposed and nervously took the last bite of my pasta and forcefully swallowed it down.

"Are you okay, Elena?" Stefan asked, his eyebrows furrowed when he took in the pasta and I shrugged. "Did Damon—"

"He made this for me."

"She basically blackmailed me to cook for her. Wouldn't come otherwise." Damon drawled.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Stefan's face. "And she managed it too."

"It's all part of my elaborate plot to get her to sleep with me."

"Hm," I murmured, "I suppose that explains the part where you went after my friends."

"A temporary setback," he remarked offhandedly and I gave him a furious look.

"Asshole!"

Elijah cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back and stepped closer. I straightened to the point of pain in my seat and clenched my teeth together. He didn't seem to notice (or didn't seem to care) and cocked his head to the side. "Perhaps we should move this conversation to the living room?"

"Of course, come on Elena, Old-and-Creepy wants to have a word."

"I'm low-key disappointed Old-and-Creepy hasn't tried murdering you yet," I mumbled under my breath but all three vampires turned to me with various expressions of irritation or amusement.

While Damon moved to the enormous stone fireplace, poking the fire, I settled on the edge of the plush red couch. Mr Martin settled beside me looking as unhappy to be there as I felt. With some careful prodding soon, the fire was roaring in the stone hearth and its warmth prickled up my arms.

"So, why this get together?"

"The Martin witches have told me about your notion to desiccate, Klaus," Elijah said, steeping his long fingers together and crossing his long legs at the ankles. "A creative way to solve the Klaus problem, I give you that. However, I've been told a spell likes that take a strong foothold."

"Erm, I don't know the specifics but I thought with some vampire muscle, it would be possible?"

"Hm," Elijah retorted.

"How do you know these things, Elena?" Stefan asked as he sat down on the arm of the couch, a tad bit too close to me. "Are you psychic?"

My eyebrows narrowed in thought. As an explanation, I thought that would work. "I— yes, sort of. I don't see everything that will happen. It doesn't quite work like that. More often than not I only see parts," I explained and almost snorted at my description of only seeing parts. After the fourth season, I'd certainly only seen parts of the show on Youtube and had no idea what exactly happened in between the small parts I'd Googled.

I regretted that now. I knew even less of the spin-off 'The Originals' so the psychic explanation would have to do.

"Hm," Mr Martin remarked. It was the first thing he'd said all day and I slowly moved to look at him. "True psychics are quite rare."

"I suppose," I shrugged and averted my eyes.

"Klaus is no fool," Elijah said and I swallowed.

That was true. He was the Original, all vampires feared and that thought made my stomach roll. Although Klaus' reputation preceded him, he was a very complex man. Both a genius tactician as a man driven by impulse and instinct, which often proved deadly.

However, even after a thousand years, Klaus was still tormented by his psychological scars. Often seen as desperate for companionship, loyalty and above all love. Klaus learned from his parents' treatment the only way to stay physically and emotionally safe was to play up his dark side.

I remembered he'd gained a horrible reputation, even when he was on the run and I wondered— Did he take out his resentment and frustration at his situation out on the people around him? On the people around him, he perceived as even slightly disloyal.

With Mikael as his father, I could understand. The same man who went after little Elena to— well, murder her I supposed. Mikael, who was over a thousand-years-old and a vampire to boot was known as 'the vampire who hunts vampires'.

Klaus probably had to use every trick in the book to keep himself hidden. Had to use the taking-over-someone-else's-body trick repeatedly. It was also quite handy, I supposed. Hadn't these witches transferred his spirit into the body of Alaric Saltzman?

The show strongly implied that Klaus had a history of taking over others' bodies so he could stay hidden. I wondered without Alaric Saltzman if he would take over someone else's body again.

"—some dick, sacrificing Elena?" Damon's voice cut in and I forced myself to tune in onto the conversation again. "And what, some witch potion should bring her back to life? Why would we trust some dodgy potion with no expiration date?"

"It's a precaution, Damon," Elijah said, sounding rather bored with the younger vampire.

"In case, Klaus will get to her before we have a chance to take him out?" Stefan tried, looking sick.

"Hm, Klaus has been waiting to break this curse for a thousand years. He will come for her."

"You contacted Klaus?" I asked, or did he still not know where his half-brother was?

Elijah pursed his lips. "Indeed, I did."

Both Stefan and Damon straightened almost unnoticeable and again, I was reminded of Klaus' reputation. It certainly preceded him, yet the man lived up to the legend. I bit down my bottom lip nervously, "Does he have all the ingredients already?" I asked, because thinking of all the people he needed to kill as ingredients was easier. "Will he—"

"He acquired the moonstone," Elijah admitted and both Damon and Stefan tensed, "My guess is he will acquire all that he needs before the next full moon."

"I see," I mumbled, drawing in a long breath.

It had grown rather late and I twisted my fingers in the hem of my shirt, listening only half-heartedly to the rest of the conversation. With the raindrops spotting the glass, I could not see outside clearly.

A gauzy haze hung in the air of an impending storm and I drew up my legs and curled my arms tightly around my knees. I didn't understand why Damon cared if I lived or died. Not even why Elijah would bother, but it was all happening quickly. Too quickly.

And what if it went wrong? What if Klaus got wind of their plan and would go after people Elena loved in retaliation? Damon, Stefan and Caroline might be able to low-key stand up to him, would be able to run, but—

"Could you compel my parents and brother, Elijah?" I whispered, interrupting Stefan mid-sentence and stared Elijah down. I felt Jonas Martin stiffen beside me and a shocked silence followed. Stefan was looking at me as if he just saw me for the first time while Damon cocked his head to the side, looking as if he ate something that hadn't agreed with him. Elijah's expression was unreadable.

"You want me to compel your parents?"

"Yes," I whispered, my voice high and my cheeks flushing, "I want them away from here. Away from all of this when it goes down and preferably without them telling anyone where they go. I mean, if they're not here, they're less likely to get hurt."

"Elena, your parents are on the council," Damon tried gently, "they're on vervain."

"Lately, they haven't been as consistent with the vervain tea as before," I admitted.

"Of course, they are," Elijah said. "I'm the one who got them off it."

"What?"

He rolled his shoulders in what I assumed was a shrug and I blinked.

"How?"

"People see only what they want to see." he told me cryptically and I rolled my eyes.

"Right," I muttered, unsure if I should be upset or annoyed he went after my family. Doubt bloomed in my chest and somehow, he must have sensed it.

"There is time to overthink this more, Elena."

"No." I shook my head. "I want them safe." I continued and bit my lip. I wanted them out of my hair as well. "If they're away, preferably on a different continent—"

"Elena, compelling them, it's—" Stefan started and I gave him a long and hard look.

"Please don't tell me it's wrong, Stefan," I muttered and bit my lip. "I want them away from here."

Elijah held up his hand as if silence a rowdy group of little children. "If that's what you want, Elena. By all means." Stefan's tight-faced expression drew deep, hard lines in his forehead.

I breathed in deeply through my nose. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Elena." His eyes travelled over my face. "I should get you home."

"I can do that." Stefan immediately cut in and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

"No," I croaked, "No, that's fine. Better now than when Klaus comes to town."

"You can think about this," Stefan started as if my idea was somehow unreasonable.

"No," I disagreed. "No, I rather not."

I got to my feet slowly and let Elijah lead me outside. I didn't look up to meet Stefan's prodding gaze and only looked back when Elijah's black Mercedes departed in a spray of gravel. I curled my fingers tightly around my seatbelt. "Does this make me a hypocrite? Asking you to compel— my parents? I mean I would normally be outraged if someone had their mind tampered with but—"

"I don't think you're a hypocrite, Elena."

"You can be honest."

"You're compassionate. Compassion is a gift. You must not lose it." He told me softly and I felt my eyebrows furrow. He'd told the real Elena something along those lines too, hadn't he? I sighed. This would probably prove to be the stupidest thing I had done till now or the smartest.

Only time would tell.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Nineteen, Crumbling Reality

The air was crisp, and my hair was stirred by a bracing wind, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. However, the sky was a wintery, iron grey and I braced my hand on the door of the car. Elijah opened the passenger door for me, and I slowly heaved myself up and out of the car. I didn't care much for Elijah's lingering touch when he steadied me, nor did I look up when his finger pads pushed my chin up.

The drowsiness from the day, the resident ache in my bones from the restless nights, I was tired. The darkened clouds slid to the side, revealing a crescent moon. Pale, intermittent light fell on the pathway to the porch through the garbled branches of the trees surrounding the Gilbert house.

"My apologies, Elena," Elijah whispered, once we'd reached the front door.

"You're apologizing— why?"

"This all must have been very hard on you." He said, and I wondered if he even expected me to answer that. I shrugged and inhaled, opening the front door. The lights were on and voices were coming from the living room. I wetted my lips and turned to look at him. "Well, would you like to come in?"

"I would love to, Miss Gilbert."

"Right," I mumbled and stepped onto the landing. "Please come in, Elijah."

He smiled and stepped over the threshold. Shrugging out of my coat, I set out for the living room, leaving Elijah to follow. As we caught the heavy scent of tulips I frowned, stopping in the door opening. A large bouquet of lilac tulips was set on the coffee table and I tried to think what the occasion could be, before shaking my head. It didn't matter, did it?

All Gilberts were in the living room. Jeremy was playing a game, while Miranda and Grayson were staring at a large book. I guessed it was a photo album.

"Elena," Miranda greeted, noticing me first, and I waggled my fingers at her.

"Hi, I'm sorry I'm late."

"That's okay, Caroline told me you stayed over at her place," she smiled and her eyes grew wide when she noticed Elijah standing behind me, "Mr Smith?"

"Hello, Mrs Gilbert." He greeted and nodded at Grayson. "Mr Gilbert. Good to see you again."

"Yes, hello, Elijah," he smiled and frowned at me.

"I ran into your daughter at the Grill. She wasn't driving her car?"

"That's nice of you," Miranda smiled. "Could I get you something to drink?"

Elijah smiled, nodding and I stiffly sat in a red-tufted armchair, pressing the backs of my calves against the legs. I watched as the Original moved forward and sat down deftly on the edge of the coffee table, plucking the book from Miranda's fingers. Both parents stared at him in wonder and I felt I owed it to them to keep watching them and curled my fingers tightly around the wooden arms of the armchair.

"You will not remember this conversation," Elijah started in that compulsory tone all vampires used and I watched Grayson's expression become slightly more forbidden. Like a fish caught in a net, but with no way out of it, I watched his eyes widen and his fingers spasm, inching to the arm of the couch even as Elijah told him not to move. He froze, and I trembled.

Jeremy was still deeply engrossed in his video game; not aware his fate was decided. Then and there. Without his consent. "You will take your son and get out of this town, get out of this country until I say otherwise. Elena will not come with you, you decided she could stay here; you will not worry, and you will not be scared. You will simply enjoy your time away. Needing a break of all the attacks and worries."

"We will simply—" Miranda started in a hazy voice.

"—enjoy our time," Grayson finished.

Elijah nodded, his figure blurry, "Yes," he agreed, "And you will leave immediately."

"We will leave immediately."

"Good," Elijah agreed and repeated the process with compelling Jeremy.

I remained seated when the two adults and the teen clambered up the stairs. Packing, I assumed. And for a moment I listened to the creaking of the floorboards upstairs and the squeaking of the doors. Elijah was still standing in front of the coffee table and, gathering my courage, I met his eyes. "Thank you."

"I will let them return once all of this is over."

"Yes, thank you," I repeated.

"Will you be, all right?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm a man of my word Elena," he said. "I make a deal, I keep a deal. I'll keep your friends safe."

"I know." I agreed and rubbed my hands together. "I just—"

I'm scared, I thought and shivered. I didn't dare to say that out loud and instead distracted myself, picking at the sheen of flaking red nail polish on my thumbnail. I watched it flutter to the wood-paneled floor with disinterest until the stairs creaked beneath the feet of the Gilbert family descending the steps quickly. All three were still in a haze, mumbling their farewells to me and I stiffly watched them stumble out of the door. The realization that I would be alone from now on in this house hit me suddenly and I had to force my shoulders to relax. Again, I didn't think Elijah should realize how scared I really was.

"It's fine, you know," I tried, impressed when my voice didn't crack, "I won't do something stupid. I'm just tired. I'm sure you have a lot to do."

"If you're sure?"

"Oh," I smiled tiredly. "I'm sure."

He left with a polite smile and I rubbed my fingers over my aching temples. The front door closed behind Elijah and I listened as he started his car, listen to the purr of his engine as he steered it down the road. I listened until the car sounds fell away to the regular background noise and silence settled on the house. Struggling to my feet, I ascended the stairs and curled up on my bed. I didn't manage to sleep well that night, lying awake, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was almost sunrise by the time I'd managed to fall into a restless sleep.

Over the next few days, I barely saw anyone. Caroline was not at school and I wondered absentmindedly if she had compelled the school, she was sick or if she somehow convinced her mother to let her stay at home. I guessed supernatural shenanigans were afoot either way.

More likely than not, it had something to do with Klaus being somewhere out there. Caroline had not so subtly told me they would try to safe me without my involvement and although I'd much rather deal with everything myself, I knew enough of Caroline to know she would not leave it alone.

At least, I got Elijah and the Salvatore's to agree to desiccating Klaus instead of killing him. That way Caroline got to live her life the way she pleased, and I could leave them all at some point without having to worry.

However, Klaus was still Elijah's little brother— In the original timeline Klaus had managed to manipulate him so masterfully with his longing for the return of his family it was almost pathetic. It had taken one sentence to lure Elijah to Alaric's apartment and instead of giving up his siblings, Klaus daggered Elijah for months.

I wondered if I should put so much faith in Elijah when I knew how easily he actually could be swayed. Then again, I only needed him to make Klaus more likely to accept my deal. I would help him break his curse and he would leave me, once I'd come back to life again, and my family alone. My family—

A tricky road. Thinking about my family often made me feel powerless. Made me feel lonely. I'd Googled my hometown, looked up my old house but— it wasn't my house. It wasn't the house where I'd sat on the marble floor in front of the television watching Sponge Bob or Avatar the Last Airbender. It wasn't the house where I'd received my first bike or received my first car. Instead, the garden was pristine in a way our garden had never been.

The house was on sale and the rooms were boring and dark, no walls filled with colorful paintings, or the messy little horse figurines my mother almost obsessively collected. There was absolutely nothing of my first life left. Apparently, not even my parents themselves.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced my thoughts to clear and finally, when my breathing was under control, I opened them again. It was a dreary, gray morning. The first weekend of December had arrived with the promise of snow and I'd settled on Elena's bed. Sitting cross-legged in only a tank top and a pair of panties, I let my fingers glide over my calves.

There was a small, thin scar just above Elena's left knee and rough patch of skin on the outside of her calf. I wondered what kind of accident she'd been in. Even after months of inhabiting Elena's body, I hadn't mapped out the planes of skin before. It still felt odd and voyeuristic staring at someone else's body, but I probably should get to know it intimately, since— for all intends and purposes, it was mine now.

Raising my arms in front of me, I stared at the smooth olive skin. A light cluster of freckles, barely even noticeable on the inside of Elena's wrist. There was another scar on Elena's left shoulder a similar one to the jagged thin line beneath her ribcage.

None of those scars meant anything to me but I could pretend they were from slipping on the scaffolding near the Lake House or crashing my bike. Even a cheer accident could explain one or two of them, but— I had no idea. Perhaps it didn't matter. The past was the past. It hadn't been mine, but the future was. And, fingers trailing over the rough patch of skin, I vowed to fight for it.

Dropping my hands into my lap, I flopped back and glanced at my nightstand. Half-past-two. I probably should get up and get dressed. I still had to go to the supermarket (it didn't feel right to spend Grayson's money on take away). I'd even considered a side job. Perhaps the Grill needed another waitress? I'd had several side jobs in my first life, but— well, it seemed more realistic to wait till after the sacrifice. After I knew for sure I had a job to return to.

"Honestly, how did Elena deal with all of this?" I muttered and slowly got to my feet.

Dressing into a honey-colored turtleneck and a washed pair of denim skinny jeans, I thundered down the stairs. Shrugging on a coat and snatching the car keys out of the bowl next to the coat rack, I ventured out of the front door. Grayson's black SUV gleamed into the pale winter sun and I clambered into the car, shifted the gear stick to reverse and pulled out of the driveway. The air outside was cold enough to make me shiver and I turned up the heater. Christmas Carrols had already taken over the radio's usual playlist and Blue December filled the car. The old-fashioned streetlamps were decorated with string lights and plastic ornaments and when I steered the car into the closest empty parking lot to the supermarket, I grimaced. Although the streets had been quiet, the supermarket was filled with last-minute shoppers. Struggling with my seatbelt for a moment, I unbuckled it and stumbled outside.

Mystic Falls local supermarket was big and chilly. The fresh smell of produce lingered in the air and customers wounded around with varying degrees of irritated, tight faces. I could only imagine my face to match theirs and moved as quickly through the store as the old squeaky shopping cart allowed. It careened off to the left every time I distractedly perused the shelves and I grumbled under my breath.

"Elena!" A slightly familiar voice greeted, and I whirled around in surprise.

"Alaric," I said and schooled my expression. I shouldn't act too familiar with him. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he smiled and then frowned. "I heard your parents left town?"

"Oh, yeah," I agreed. "Dad found excellent revalidation rehabilitation? practice in Europe for Jeremy."

"I had no idea he wasn't doing well."

"Erm," I smiled and scratched nervously at the inside of my wrist, "the cracked rib wasn't healing well enough. Rather safe than sorry, I suppose."

"I suppose," he agreed, but I knew he didn't believe me.

"So how are you and Jenna doing?" I changed the subject so rapidly even my mind was left reeling.

It had left Alaric reeling too, I could tell, and I smiled at the way his face flushed. "We're doing well."

"Say, are you even allowed to date your student, Mr Saltzman?"

He guffawed at that before gaining control of his voice. "She's not my student— you make it sound—"

"I'm teasing," I sniggered. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Oh," and his eyes flitted up my form and somehow his expression turned weird, "right."

Somehow, I was painfully reminded of whom I was talking to and whom Klaus would take over in the distant future. Or was it not so distant? The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge and I took two steps back. Alaric took a hesitant step forward and I forced a smile to my face.

"I, erm, need to go." I stumbled awkwardly. "Lots of stuff to buy."

"Of course," he agreed readily and I almost bolted, shopping cart sneaking noisily as I disappeared down the aisle. Something had felt off. The beginnings of fear churning desperately in my stomach, I worked through the hastily written shopping list. I didn't fancy running into Alaric again.

When I pulled up next to the Gilbert house, long dark shadows had stretched over the street. My eyes widened and I hit the brakes so abruptly, my upper body jolted painfully against my seatbelt. A human-shaped shadow was hulking in my front yard and my fingers spasmed around the steering wheel. I hadn't expected anyone to come by and my mouth went dry.

The last time a stalker-type was loitering near my house hadn't gone so well, and I contemplated hitting the gas but— where was I even supposed to go? The light of the sun hit the man's face just right and surprise filtered through me. Zachariah Salvatore appeared from behind the Buxus hedge, looking flushed and apologetic.

"Zach?" I gasped and rolled down the window. "What the fuck?"

"Oh, hello Elena."

"Hello?" I echoed and wondered what level of upset I should go for.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he muttered and looked extremely uncomfortably.

"Do I even want to know what you're doing here, hiding behind the bushes?" I inquired mildly, wrinkling my nose. The anger dissipated slowly, and I climbed out of the car. "Honestly, I thought Damon killed you." I piped up unhelpfully and grimaced at how that sounded. "I mean—"

"He tried," he admitted sheepishly. "Stefan stepped in."

"Oh, well," I retorted awkwardly, "I'm happy he failed then."

He smiled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Do you have time?"

I nodded. "Sure."

I had a lot of time. Although I still thought getting Grayson, Miranda and Jeremy out of Mystic Falls was the right call, the last week had been lonely. I led him up to the house, smiling faintly amused when he took my grocery bags and held open the front door so he could pass. Except for the weak stripe of light falling onto the wood-paneled floor, the hallway was dark. I clumsily felt around for the light switch while Zach careened his neck to look around.

"It's been a while since I've been here." He remarked off-handedly. "It's changed a lot."

"I don't recall you ever being here," I said, although I wouldn't know.

Zach shrugged. "You were still playing with your dolls back then."

"Hm," I retorted noncommittally and led him to the kitchen. "You can leave them on the counter. Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee sounds good."

"All right," I grinned, spooning ground coffee beans into the machine, shooting him subtle glances. Zach Salvatore seemed at ease, his eyes flitting around, and I felt a tiny bit self-conscious. The kitchen was a mess, the sink filled with used frying pans, used plates and cups. I hadn't gotten around to cleaning it and felt my face flush. Taking the coffee pot towards the kitchen table I poured us two cups and sat down across from him. "So, I take it you wanted something from me?"

"Straight to business," he smiled, "you are your father's daughter."

"Hm."

"I wanted to talk to you about Stefan and Damon."

"Oh joy."

He laughed at that. It was strong and slightly loud for a generally quiet person, I leant back in my chair, slightly more relaxed now. Zach didn't seem to share the sentiment, fingers trailing over the rim of his cup. "I don't like it much either but—"

"Just spit it out."

"Whenever Damon and Stefan come to town, death always follows. You probably shouldn't meet up with them anymore. You're a human. They're not. You can't trust them. Never forget that."

"Right," I answered coolly. Perhaps a latent irritation of being told what to do nestled itself hotly in my chest and I crossed my arms beneath my breasts. What was it with men and telling me what to do? Did I look so incompetent I needed their coddling behavior every turn I went?

"I don't mean that in a bad way, Elena," Zach was quick to say and I pursed my lips.

"Why are you letting them stay with you then?" I asked curtly.

Weariness settled on his features and he cocked his head. "I don't understand?"

My lips puckered in frustration. "Why not put the house in someone else's name? Why keep Stefan and Damon's secret? It seems to me like you don't want to keep it in the first place."

"I have to," he answered non-plussed.

"You have to?"

"But you don't. Stefan fancies you—"

"I've made the boundaries with him very clear. Besides, I kept my distance from him."

He gestured out of the window. "I promise you, he doesn't care. He's willing to put everything on hold to get to meet you. And, of course, there is Damon—"

"Damon is a problem," I admitted.

Damon was a big problem. I understood something had to be done with him. Especially if he kept murdering his way through the town, but I also knew he would become a better person in the later seasons. Still murderous, but a better person. I bit my lip. Was being a slightly lesser psychopath enough to immolate an entire town?

"Elena—"

"I know Stefan and Damon have a history of violence. I know how dangerous they both are." I admitted and wetted my lips, a strange feeling settling in my stomach. "I know how dangerous they are and although I don't think it would be wise to cut them out the way you seem to suggest, I will not start dating them."

"Dating," he repeated dubiously. "That's not what I mean."

"No, but that's what Stefan wants," I went on blithely, "Damon knows he's on probation. Besides, if people honestly think I'm planning on staying here after high school and college, they've got something coming." I muttered as an afterthought. I shot a glance at the time display on the oven. "Anyway, I should start cooking—"

"I have to go anyway, Elena, it's fine." He smiled tightly. "Perhaps you should come by tomorrow. I believe Elijah will visit the boarding house again. I assume you'd want to be there when the final points are discussed? It's your life after all."

I met his earnest eyes at that. Let my eyes glide over his face. The veins in his neck were protruding, showing a slow thump of a pulse and somehow, it reminded me that Zach was a real living person. That this reality wasn't a television show anymore. That he along with so many others would die if he kept interfering in the supernatural affairs of his vampire uncles. "I— thank you."

"You're welcome."

"You shouldn't, you know, get in the middle of this," I whispered.

"I can't watch the people of this town die horribly. Not again," he retorted. He got up slowly, moving out of the kitchen to the front door, and I steadily followed him. He was already out of the door when I'd reached the landing and I gave a small wave as he gave me a curt nod.

"Erm, drive safe?" I tried and he smiled peering at me over his shoulder.

"Goodbye, Miss Gilbert. I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Mister Salvatore." I shut the door behind him with a thud and found my way through the darkness of the empty corridor towards the kitchen.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty, A Walk to Remember

The sky was a cold, hard blue, devoid of clouds. A brisk wind kept the trees in a constant motion and the brown-blackened leaves crunched beneath my feet as I made my way to the overshadowed porch.

The boarding house looked much better in the pale summer sun and I peered at the tree-line. Larch and elm grew between the chestnuts tree and a crow was settled a large gnarled branch of a large, old oak tree.

It looked at me unblinkingly and I shuddered, quickening my step. Long shadows shivered on the flagstone porch, inch by inch lengthening across the stones. I had opted for a thick lilac sweater and a dark-blue pair of denim pants. Ringing the doorbell I winced at the shrill echo through the house. It took only a moment before the door clicked and the front door to swung open. An amused Damon Salvatore greeted me.

"Elena," Damon greeted, one side of his lips sliding up into an all-too-familiar smirk, "hello."

"Hello Damon," I retorted and crossed my arms beneath my breasts, "I heard we would meet?"

"And who told you that?"

"A little birdie?" I remarked dryly.

He snorted. "Wonderful, why don't you come in?"

"Thank you."

I moved past him, dodging Damon's hand when he turned towards me and tried grabbing my shoulder. I knew the way by now, moving through the entrance hall. The corridor appeared far less eerie by daylight and the polished wood clucked beneath my feet. I was about to move into the living room when Damon finally snatched my arm.

"Wait here," he grumbled.

"Why?" I tried, but Damon had already stepped past me. The door to the living room closed with a loud, resounding click, leaving me alone in the cold, empty corridor. Voices drifted from inside and my eyebrows furrowed. They were deciding my fate, cutting me out of all the plotting. Just as they'd done with the real Elena on numerous times.

I heard Damon's voice filter through the door and I wondered when the real Elena had acknowledged her attraction to him. When had it even started? When he saved her from the car crash in season one?

When she descended the staircase at Founders' Hall, dressed in a figure-hugging blue dress, dark curls tumbling over her shoulder-blades? Or was it when she woke up to his face after the sacrifice? Perhaps she did when Damon clasped her vervain necklace around her neck on her eighteenth birthday?

A floorboard moaned across the landing and I whirled around. Caroline Forbes stood behind me, looking like a deer caught in headlights. I took a cautious step forward. "Caroline?"

"Elena," she greeted.

"Can I go inside now?" I drawled, slightly irritated. "Or are you not done hiding things from me?"

"You said—"

"I don't care." I huffed. "It's about me. I should have a say in it."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Your choice of what to do with your life? You are willing to let yourself be sacrificed."

"No," I denied, "I was willing to make a deal. I made one with Elijah— Klaus can't die."

"Because you think we all die. Elijah says that's not a certainty and—"

"It is and even if it wasn't, are you willing to risk it?"

"Would you for me?"

"I'm not going to answer that. Elijah has a potion. I will live. Besides, I will have to be sacrificed anyway for the spells to work, won't I?"

"Yes," Elijah agreed, having moved behind me without me noticing and I flinched.

"Elijah," I breathed, taking a step back, curling my fingers into tight fists. "Good morning, I just—"

"Good morning," He smiled tightly. "I'm truly sorry you have to die for other's gain."

"Thank you." I frowned. "Just isn't the potion supposed to—?"

"The Martins are working on a way to verify the potion's accuracy."

"I see," I muttered and squared my shoulders, pushing into the living room. I felt the Original follow after me like a dark shadow and tried not to let his close presence distract me. The living room was messy. Not dirty, but the tables and even a large part of the couches were covered with papers and books.

Luka Martin sat cross-legged on one of the rugs closest to the large fireplace, pouring over a thick, leather-bound grimoire. He didn't even look up when I entered. His father was in one of the loveseats next to one cathedral window. He too was leaving through a grimoire but looked more poised. His eyes briefly flickered to me and he gave me a short nod.

"Elena."

"Mr Martin."

Damon was near the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a glass of bourbon and just looked too at ease. I knew he had hidden something for me. Of course, there was something I wasn't allowed to see and I let my eyes glide to Stefan, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, looking anywhere but at me.

Honestly, how had Elena ever not noticed Stefan's and Damon's lying before? Or perhaps she did but chose not to see it. I certainly didn't understand why they were trying so hard in the first place. I let my eyes glide through the living room again and wondered, almost absentmindedly, where Zach could be. Wasn't he supposed to be here as well?

"Well, will you just keep standing in the door opening?" Damon demanded, shattering me out of my thoughts, and I glared at him.

Caroline followed, brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes and tentatively smiled at me. "Come on, you can sit next to me." She told me, leading me back to the second love seat, which accommodated both of us just fine.

I wondered if Caroline offered because of Stefan. I didn't doubt he would want to sit back to me and I studiously avoided his gaze. He might have stopped actively pursuing me, he was still very much into me (or Elena's face, I couldn't say for sure). I crossed my legs at the ankles and intertwined my fingers.

"So what was this meeting about? This meeting I wasn't supposed to know about."

It was Damon who explained what they'd been up to. How they'd settled the board and had sent the pieces moving. How Elijah had found Klaus, had done his best bit of groveling to get into Klaus' good graces.

Which, I suppose, was smart. That way, Elijah could be more involved and wouldn't have to hide down the sidelines. Mr Martin continued, explaining how he and his son found the spell to desiccate Klaus and I smiled. A few strands of hair escaped from the messy bun I'd haphazardly gathered my hair in that morning.

"I honestly don't see why you all thought I shouldn't know about this."

"You've been acting a bit strange lately, Elena," Caroline responded evenly and I stared at her.

"I am?"

"Yes," she agreed, "for some time now, everything you do and say somehow seems forced."

"Well— with Bonnie—" I tried awkwardly. Caroline winced and I felt a stab of guilt shoot through me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that in a bad way."

"It's fine," she breathed out, running her tong along her upper lip, "but you were already acting a bit strange before Halloween."

I shifted uneasily, folding my arms tightly across my waist. "I've been stressed." Meeting Caroline's eyes, I pursed my lips. "Not suicidal."

"Good," She replied and got to her feet.

I watched her cross over to where Luka was sitting and plopped down next to him, peering at the page he was reading. I propped my feet up onto the coffee table, leaning my elbows on my knees. "So, when do you think Klaus will come?"

"He will have to find a werewolf and the moonstone first," Elijah told me.

I slowly turned to him. He was standing stiff-backed near one of the bookcases, eyeing everyone solemnly and I licked my lips. "Okay, but you have the moonstone."

"Which I will divulge when everyone is set correctly."

"What more do you want to set? Did he not agree with your terms?"

"He did." Elijah shrugged. "I've learned long ago not to trust his vulgar word alone."

I pushed a few loose strands of hair back from my face and nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose you have a point there." Biting my lip, I shifted to the edge of my seat. "How do you want to corner Klaus? I mean, after the sacrifice, obviously, but how do you plan to keep him from noticing two witches trying to take him down? What will you do to the other two witches?"

Elijah's face grew extremely severe and displeased. "Still a problem looking into."

"And how well that's going," Damon drawled sarcastically

"You young vampires—" Elijah mumbled coldly, taking a small step in Damon's direction, fingers twitching. I inhaled sharply, unsure what I should say and do to disperse this situation and struggled to remain seated.

I grasped my knees tightly before grounding out, "Aren't there spells? You could— I don't know, lock them up somewhere. Knock them out without really hurting them? That's possible, right?"

"It is." Mr Martin gravely agreed and closed the grimoire in his lap and reached for another one.

"Well, problem solved," I mumbled and I glanced at Elijah. He had stepped back, looking at me. He looked at me briefly and I thought he no longer seemed to be considering ripping Damon's heart out. With a measured step, he moved closer to Mr Martin, looking at his face as if one jerk of a facial muscle would somehow answer his unasked question.

I bit my lower lip between my front teeth, barely registering the way my fingernails dug into my flesh. When my cell phone vibrated in a somnambulate motion, I reached for it. An incoming text from Jeremy notified me of his latest escapades. Sometimes, messaging with a boy I only knew as an actor still felt surreal. It was surreal, however, I quickly dropped my phone on the coffee table and tried to tune in on the conversation again.

Their chatter was somewhat incoherent. I heard the words but did not understand the meaning from the often Latin names that fluttered by. I was glad.

The plan was good, thought out and no more people would have to die as long as Klaus— I pressed my lips together. If he would stick to the deal he would make with Elijah and me. I supposed it truly showed how naive I could be that I was feeling bad for being the one betraying a deal that had not even hatched.

However, Klaus might have been the asshole about to sacrifice me, he was also not the one who set the terms. The curse he carried needed the Doppelgänger's death to be broken. Still, I also knew he would take me hostage, once he figured out he needed my blood to make hybrids. I didn't want to be his puppet for the rest of my life.

My reasoning did little to quell the churning of disgust and self-consciousness and I tried swallowing down the lump that had settled in my throat. It made me feel the tiniest bit better that I knew Klaus was not much a man of his word either.

Hadn't he gone after Elena's loved ones, despite her willingness to work with him? With a kind of mental grimace, I shifted in my seat, dropping my feet from the coffee table and listened to Stefan voicing out a considerate version of the question of 'what if she dies?'.

"The potion will bring her back," Elijah remarked.

Damon snorted rudely. "No, you hope it will. Big difference there. However, you lot are putting all your fate into a magical potion with no expiration date. Elena, if you don't care to die, why not make sure you come back? A bit of vampire blood and kezeng, problem solved."

"I can't," I easily replied. "And I don't want to either."

Besides, when Klaus figured out he'd needed my blood when I was a human to turn hybrids, and I knew that, even as a vampire I wouldn't live very long. I considered my options again. I could tell Klaus what I knew.

Surely, he would have a powerful reason to make sure I'd survive if he knew he needed me. Bit of wishful thinking, and I even thought he could be persuaded to let me live a normal life, sans regular blood donations. Until a hybrid started a rebellion and Klaus grew sick of his little toy soldiers.

Besides, I knew about Mikael. Knew how to find out about his location. I bit my lip. My compliance and knowledge in exchange for his help to live—it was a good bargain. One Elena could profit from if we ever got to remedy the situation. No matter how small the chance, a bargain like that could safe a lot of lives.

I cleared my throat. "This plan of ours is not all that thought out is it?"

"It isn't," Luka huffed aghast.

"Just some minor problems to iron out," Mr Martin decided.

Damon snorted again and I sent him a thunderous glare. "Sure, a minor problem having a witch daughter who would sense you're coming from a mile away."

Elijah's expression darkened, obviously pushed as far as he could be pushed and a shiver ran down the length of my spine. The severe line of his brow creating deep furrows on his forehead and I shared a worried glance with Caroline.

Whatever semblance of a plan that was brewing, it would be over once Elijah finally lost his self-control and ripped Damon's larynx out and I stumbled to my feet.

"Guys!" I tried, but it was Caroline who figured out what to say first to disperse the hostility.

"Isn't there a spell to stop a witch knowing you're coming?"

"There is," Luka spoke up. It was the first time I heard him speak that morning and I met his gaze.

"How?"

"A cloaking spell to hide our presence, dad. With the power of a hundred witches, we should be able to fashion a cloaking spell so strong, people won't know what hit them."

I tucked a stray hair behind my ear and frowned. "The power of a hundred witches?"

"Yes," Luka agreed.

"You'd need that?" I asked doubtfully.

Abby Wilson hadn't needed it when taking down Mikael. Nor had Bonnie needed it when she stopped Klaus' heart in the third season's last episode. Mr Martin shrugged stony-faced and dread settled in my stomach. He looked hungry, his mouth stretching in a small, what I thought he might assume, fatherly smile. "Do you know the spot where hundredth witches were murdered is?"

For a moment everything around me fell still. Then my heart kicked back in, drumming blood through my veins and to my head with hard, painful beats. Mr Martin's comment ricocheted through my head and my hands became cold and numb. I found myself parroting Mr Martin's words awkwardly. "The spot where a hundred witches were murdered?"

"Yes," Mr Martin agreed, "you know where it is?" He asked casually.

The look he shot me sent a white, hot shiver down my spine. The need to bolt was almost all overpowering and I barely maintained my decorum, shaking my head. We had talked about this. I knew he could use the witches to overpower Klaus. But, that kind of power was not needed. Why use a power that could easily kill you when your own was enough? Unless—

"You were going to kill him," I whispered.

"You don't understand," Mr Martin said and I took a slow step back.

"After everything I told you, you were going to kill him anyway?" I whispered.

"Greta deserves to be free. Besides—"

"Freezing him would ensure that. Moreover, it wouldn't wipe out an entire line of vampires." I retorted irritably. If Klaus got killed, Caroline would die. Stefan would die. Even Damon (although the judge was still out on if he deserves it, or not) would die. I shook my head in— anger, hurt, irritation? I wasn't sure anymore. Elijah crossed the distance between us with the grace I'd come to associate with him. Invading my personal space past the point of politeness. I breathed hard.

"I admire your willingness to keep even your enemies unharmed but—"

"Everyone in this room, except you and the witches will die with Klaus if he dies."

"Sweetheart, there is no proof of that. The Martins didn't find anything to sustain your worries."

"Doesn't mean they aren't true. Was I wrong about anything I told you so far?" I asked grimly.

"Elena," he tried, with all the storming anger of a cloudless sky, but shook my head.

Clenching my jaw, I curled my fingers in tight fists. "I've got to go."

I left quickly. They didn't stop me, which surprised me and hurried down the flights of stairs and stumbled outside. There was no one around, but as I made my way to my car, I felt the burning of someone watching me.

A flitting glance towards the trees to my right told me what I'd already expected. I saw no one but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My heart was starting to race and breathing in large gulps of air, I tried to calm my frazzled nerves. Gripping my car keys tightly, I quickened my step, forcing my gaze away from the shadowy woods.

The feeling of being watched crawled up my back, ricocheted down the notches of my spine and I started to run. My feet pounded on the gravel and I took a sharp turn towards the carpark, balance thrown off when I skidded on the loose gravel. Grayson's SUV gleamed in the late afternoon light and I'd almost made it.

The car beeped when I unlocked the doors and I reached out for the door handle when an arm wrapped around my waist.

"NO!" My scream tore through the still air, my feet kicking out as I felt the ground beneath them disappear. My eyes were already smarting with unshed tears and I tried yanking the arm off of me. I turned in his grasp, somehow hoping I could knock my elbow sharply into his face and I froze.

"Zach?"

Zachariah Salvatore stared back at me with a small smile and I felt my shoulders relax. "I'm sorry, Elena, I saw you tear out of the house in a panic. Are you all right?"

"I— yeah, jeez, you scared the shit out of me."

"My apologies."

I shrugged, trying to find my composure. "It's fine. What are you doing here? Why weren't you there during the meeting?"

"I constantly seem to work Damon on his nerves." He answered dismissively. "I was around."

"Damon should learn to control his temper." I retorted easily. "No one always gets what they want."

"Some do." He told me brightly, flashing me a toothy grin. "Would you like to take a walk?"

I raised a quizzical brow before the tenseness bled away from my face. He didn't mean anything with it and I smiled. "I would love to. Thank you."

Zach gave me a thin-lipped smile and waved his hand towards the forest. I easily fell in step with him. Strolling around the house, through the neat gardens, Zach waved his hand at the boardinghouse, explaining that it was built in 1914 and how it had been used as a place where visitors could stay.

"When did you stop having visitors?" I asked. I knew it was before Stefan and Damon came to stay.

A faint crease lined his face, "I'm not sure, Luv."

"Oh, well, before Stefan and Damon came, I assume?"

"Business became slow at some point." He explained. "But no, I'm not offering to house people with Stefan and Damon there. Damon would probably turn it into a dinner party."

"I suppose," I admitted wanly, licking my dry lips and looped my thumbs through the loops of my jeans. My breath stuttered to a halt and my eyes widened when something caught my attention.

"Love?" I mumbled. "Did you just call me love?"

"Why wouldn't I, Luv?"

"It— It's British…"

"It is," he agreed, regarding me with an open sort of amusement, eyes alive.

"Klaus?"

Zach smiled, but it wasn't the soft-hearted smile I'd come to expect from him and my skin itched. Like ants crawling over my bones, its venom searing through my blood. For a heartbeat, everything was silent, and nobody moved.

Then fear and self-preservation set in. I tried to run, perhaps it was the borrowed Petrova blood that made me react that way. His arm wrapped around my waist before I'd even managed to take two steps and yanked me back.

I felt the easy roll the chuckle that followed made through his chest and heat licked at my face like sunburn. Without much else to do, I went slack in his grip.

"There, got that out of your system, Sweetheart?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Can't guess?"

I growled. "Yes," I huffed, "but why are you here right now?"

"I don't trust Elijah when it comes to someone with your face?" He sneered, a shadow shifting over his face. The sneer, the tight line of his lips, it somehow made him look more inhuman. Somehow the expression he made didn't fit on Zach Salvatore's face and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

I was breathing too fast. I knew I was and it would only be a moment before I would start to hyperventilate. I had planned to deal with all of this in time, on my terms.

"How— I take it Elijah doesn't know you're here?" I grounded out and Zach's expression softened.

"Nope," he agreed, popping the 'p'.

"How did you know he was here? That I was here?" I tried. "Somehow I don't see Elijah telling you where I was. My location sounds like leverage."

His expression was oddly pleased then and I shut my eyes against the sight. I didn't need him to be impressed with me. I solely needed him to be willing to listen to me. I needed him agreeable enough to agree on letting me have a life. Even if I was doomed to donating blood for the time being— I wanted what the other me had wanted.

Go to college, get an education and make a life for me. New me, of course, wanted her parents and friends and family as well, but that would be difficult. However, once Elena Gilbert turned eighteen her body would be on the first plane home, just to make sure everyone was there. Even if I couldn't be a part of their lives, I wanted to see them. Desperately.

I turned my face to Zach's again, his arm now loosely draped along my waist. He was looking at me as if my deepest secrets were somehow etched in the tight line of my mouth of the shape of my eyes. I had no idea what he hoped to find, or if he found it for that matter, only that, after a tense minute, he smiled again. "You're right, Elena, Elijah didn't tell me where you were."

"Did a witch do locater's spell?"

"He has the means to not be found."

"I don't understand." I didn't like the confusion that tingled down my spine nor the intimate way his fingers drew circles over the skin of my lower back. Somehow he'd pushed my coat up, or perhaps it had ridden up. Either way, the lazy draw of his fingers had my spine stiffening ramrod straight.

"My brother hasn't adapted well to technology in this century."

"You traced his cellphone." I realized after a moment. I was sure with a little bit of compelling, he would have someone's phone records in seconds. It made sense he would resort to that. It was smart too. I hadn't even considered the option.

"Very good, but I didn't have to, Elena." He smiled. "You're bright. I quite enjoy the bright ones."

"You didn't have to?"

His fingers stopped drawing circles over my back and settled lazily against my side as the other hand disappeared behind the lapels of his coat. I heard something rustle before he pulled free a paper. A paper with my face printed on it. A 'have you seen this girl' poster and my mouth slacked open. The posters I'd assumed Elena's parents had been working on when I'd been kidnapped by Anna and her two toy-boys. God, had I been wrong about that.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" He smirked. "But you did figure out who I was."

"I did," I agreed, having no other choice than to play along.

He grinned again, although Zach's face lacked the dimples I'd grown used to on my television and he cocked his head to the side. "I've heard you're quite the negotiating strategist." He said and there was something dangerous in his tone.

I inhaled deeply. He wouldn't hurt me. He needed me. I was the Doppelgänger who would break Klaus' curse. I was the Doppelgänger that came willingly. That even contacted him — well, his brother — willingly. He had no reason to hurt me— yet. "If you've heard about my— interests, then I hope you would come to agree with my terms."

"Hm—" he smiled again, the branches of a nearby tree stirring in the wind, "—you had quite many."

"Yes," I admitted, "but they weren't unreasonable, were they?"

He made a face as if to say; 'perhaps not,' and I tried to swallow. "I do wonder what you would trade for all those— ah yes, interests, now, hm?"

"What do you mean?" I squeaked and Klaus leant forward, his warm breath fanning out over the delicate flesh of my throat. My sharp intake of breath had my chest expanding, pressing against his and my cheeks flushed with blood. If my heartbeat was erratic before it was thundering in my chest now. I opened and closed my mouth several times as his mouth moved up from the base of my neck to the under-sight of my jaw. "D—Do you mean sexual—" I tried, but I couldn't even say the words, my stomach reeling with the mere suggestion, but I had to, "—sexual favors?"

Warm air puffed along my skin as Klaus let out a laugh and he straightened again. "Oh my, you look absolutely terrified."

"Are you insane? Of course, I am," I blurted out and closed my mouth so fast my teeth clicked together. "I mean—"

"No, Elena, I don't mean sexual favors. I don't force myself on women."

His words reverberated around the great chasm in my mind before they finally registered and I felt my shoulders sag. "You don't?"

"I'm not entirely sure I shouldn't be insulted."

"I didn't mean to—" I mumbled helplessly.

His smile wavered and his eyes veered away from mine, sliding along the trees and down the path. I was about to ask what was wrong, but I got my answer a second later as his fingers turned to the clasp of my necklace and tore it off my throat.

The clip snapping against my delicate flesh send a dull thrill of pain up to the base of my skull and I winced. "We will have to continue this conversation somewhere more private."

I blinked in confusion and then—

We weren't in the woods anymore.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-One, Dark Pretenses

When I blinked again, I was no longer outside. Instead, I was in a room. It was small and dark, with an old, brown lamp on the bedside table. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed the heavy four-poster bed carved from dark oak wood with cream-colored bedclothes. A movement alerted me to the corner of the room I was in.

A figure, male I thought, rose slowly to his feet, moving along the wall. A moment later the lightbulbs on the ceiling flickered on. It made my eyes sting and moaning, I sat up, rubbing my fingers over my face.

When the white spots disappeared from my vision, I looked over. Klaus, this time in his own body, leant casually against the windowsill and I blinked blearily, trying to figure out how I'd gotten here. I'd been outside—

"How did I get here?"

"I drove you," he smirked and crossed the room before sitting on the edge of the bed.

The orange lamplight dancing along his face, accentuating his delicate cheekbones and made his dirty-blond hair look golden.

He was smiling, dimples digging into his cheeks and eyes alight with what I assumed was pleasure. It was a face I could work with. I at least somewhat knew and I exhaled a sigh. "Why don't I remember you doing that?" I settled on dreading the answer.

"Sweetheart, I compelled you."

My hand went to my neck, finger sliding over my skin, to the absence of my necklace. Shakily, I turned to face him again. "Why? I wasn't trying to fight you."

"I don't like leaving things to chance."

"Right," I whispered.

"Come on, Love, let me lead you around." He grinned, holding out his hand.

I took it, barely refraining from rolling my eyes and Klaus led me out of the room. It led into a long, dimly lit stone hall. It looked rather quaint, the corridors smelling faintly of mildew and the furniture old. He was talking, much like I was an honored guest instead of a hostage or an abducted high school student.

I couldn't seem to hang on his words, instead, my eyes flitted through the passing windows and over a fast expanse of grass reaching wide and far until they met a swirling tree-line. I had no idea how much time had passed between me taking a walk with Zach-Klaus and me waking up in this bedroom in the middle of nowhere.

If I had to guess, only a few hours. Long enough for the sun to sink behind the horizon but not long enough for more than a day to pass. I wasn't hungry, nor tired — although he could have compelled me to eat and sleep, I suppose — and still wearing the clothes I'd been wearing before, sans coat, of course.

"—How did you know?"

"What?" I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from a painting of a dreary landscape and to his face.

"You knew what I would want the Doppelgänger for, yet you seemed to know contacting my family was the best course of action."

"I can't explain. You'll think I'm insane." I whispered. I didn't think he would buy me having visions or being a clairvoyant. Too exhausted to keep going, I stopped walking and curled my arms tightly around my waist. "Are you going to compel me now? To have me tell you my secrets?" I forced out, unconsciously keeping pace with the rise and fall of his chest.

"Are your secrets worth compelling you for?" He drawled in an amused way.

"I think I should be entitled to my secrets. Just like you are?"

His smile turned almost predatory and he leaned in as I leaned back. "Hm, and yet you already know so much about me."

"You can thank your brother for that."

"I thought you were the clairvoyant type?" He asked conversely and I swallowed.

"I've seen things. But so much is already different, I—" I swallowed again trying to push away the growing lump in my throat, "—I know one possible future. Or part of it, but when you change one thing, you change all. And I've changed one thing. I've already changed all."

"Hm," he grinned, canines glinting in the artificial light, "something I'd want to know?"

"Not without your word that you'll make sure I survive afterwards." I returned. "And that I can have a life without you trying to dictate it or trying to have me lead it a certain way."

"You don't want to die, hm?"

"Do you?"

His eyes shone with amusement, with mirth. I considered him worriedly. He could probably tell I knew something he would want to know. Like how my blood was needed to make hybrids, but I refused to tell him that. If I did every leverage I had would be gone and I would never get to live a life. No matter if it was Elena's or my own. I cleared my throat.

"Would you want to die?" I asked. "Would you want to die, for someone else's gain?"

"You look at it the wrong way, Luv." he told me cheerfully and I pursed my lips. Of course, why wouldn't Klaus make this all about himself? I was, after all, only a human. Klaus patted my cheek with his fingers, making me feel like a child. "It's not about your death, it's about my freedom."

I swallowed hard to keep my stomach from contracting, "You could turn that around too, you know."

"Hm?"

I curled my arms around my waist. "You could wait with your ritual until I'm old and lived a full-filling life. What would a few more decades mean for you?"

"I've waited for over a thousand years, Sweetheart."

"And I haven't lived at all," I answered back tersely. "Even without your werewolf side, you are the most powerful being alive. It makes no sense the way you level one being over another."

His smile remained, but a telltale twitching to the corners of his mouth told me he was getting irritated. He stepped closer to me, well into my personal space, and his body heat seeped into me.

I vaguely remembered Stefan telling Vicky Donovan how coffee warmed them up, making a vampire feel more like a living human than a dead corpse. Klaus certainly felt warmer and I wondered if human blood made vampires feel this hot or if that was a sealed werewolf thing.

Klaus leant closer, one hand cupping my jaw as he tilted my head up so that I had to look into his eyes. "And if I let you live, what good will that bring me?"

'Alive Hybrids,' my mind supplied easily and I wetted my lips. "You mean what you'll get when I survive the ritual and I'll get to live my life?"

"By all means," he agreed, toying with me, I was sure.

"I'll tell you once I've survived." I drawled back and the fingers still on my chin stiffened.

And then he reared his head back and let out a bark of laughter. His hand fell away and he stepped back, away from my personal space and leant his elbows back on the windowsill. "My Luv, we're going to have a lot of fun together."

"I'm sure," I mumbled.

"Why don't we continue our tour of the house?"

"Sure."

Klaus clapped his hands together, an act more logical on a child, and beckoned for me to follow him. I did without a fight, placing my hand into his again. I honestly didn't see what I would win alienating him right now and again tried to listen to the things he told me, but failing quite a bit.

He led me down the hall, through a nondescript bare living room, and pointed me into a quaint kitchen. The first thing I noticed when the door clicked shut behind me was the stained-glass window. The second was the large granite counter and the high throne-like chairs, fixed around the high table.

"Do you want something?" He drawled and his smirk grew. "I believe I should offer tea?"

"Oh," I mumbled and settled on a stool at the granite counter and sucked my lower lip between my teeth. "All right, sure."

He moved towards the counter and I inhaled deeply.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I was under the impression you knew?"

"What are you going to do with me now?" I rephrased crossing my arms over my chest, frowning.

"Feed you, keep you alive— Sweetheart, I was planning to just wing it."

"Sounds wonderful," I remarked drolly. His eyes turned serious a second later and he drew a finger along the curve of my cheek. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to seduce me yet."

I snorted. "No, duh, of course, and I won't try either."

"Careful, sweetheart, you're hurting my feelings."

"Oh," my face flushed, "I mean— I didn't mean that in a bad way…"

Would it hurt his feelings too, if I said I just didn't fancy him? I guessed it would and I clenched my teeth together. The door opened again and this time a girl entered.

"Ah, there you are, Love," a dark-skinned girl greeted, stepping into the small dark bedroom.

I recognized her immediately.

Greta Martin. Looking up at Klaus with open admiration. She was my height, or perhaps I should still say Elena's height? With long curly hair, long lashes and thick red-painted lips. Her dark hair was parted and looped behind her ears into a knot at the back of her head and she was dressed casually in a lovely red button-up and a dark set of skinny jeans.

She looked pleasant enough, but I shouldn't forget that she was the witch willing to leave her family behind to create a monster.

She turned to me with a wan smile. "Hello."

"Hello," I echoed awkwardly and Klaus smiled.

"Greta, meet my little doppelgänger, Elena."

"She's pretty," Greta replied, flicking a long, loose curly strand of hair over her shoulder.

Klaus rolled his shoulders in what might have been a shrug. "Right up your street, hm?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Greta drolly remarked and I felt like I missed something. She settled on one of the stools across from me, lazily swinging a leg over the tiny iron arm. "So, Elena Gilbert, where do you hail from?"

"Mystic Falls," I answered hollowly. It felt pointless. I was sure she already knew.

"Small town," she praised, pearl white grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Hm, yeah," I agreed.

The stool creaked when Greta jerked to her feet. Her lips unfurling in a lopsided smile and her eyes glimmered. "What a dreary mood Klaus has you in," she grinned and moved to one of the cabinets.

I watched her as she rummaged through them and pulled out a set of small remote speakers. They were old— or they were old for me. I suppose for the year 2009 they were quite new. Grinning almost manically, she plugged her phone into the speakers. It took seconds before the cover of a Britney Spears song warbled out of the speakers and Greta turned to Klaus in a blatantly sexual manner.

"It's not nice not offering a guest a drink you know?"

"Hm, she hasn't offered me a drink either." He returned and I swallowed. Technically he had offered.

Greta let out a harsh, high laugh and I winced. They really were alike. I understood now why they got on so well. I understood now, that Mr. Martin was wrong. Greta Martin was definitely with Klaus out of her own volition. Chewing on my cheeks, I nervously rubbed my hands together and frowned.

"I'll not be offering anything if it's all the same to you." I murmured daring a glare in the direction of the smirking Klaus and crossed my arms over my chest. It was a stance I was familiar with. I felt comfortable with, and I jutted my chin out in a huffy pout. "I think that that once before I die and come back, will be enough to last a lifetime."

"I can be gentle," he remarked easily.

"Sure, and I can fly, you just don't see my wings from this angle." I drolly replied.

"I like you," Greta said, clapping her hands together, "you've got spunk."

Klaus snorted, rolling his eyes and waved his hand. "It seems I will have to invite Maddox to the party. Two women are too much for me." He muttered and moved out of the kitchen. "By all means Greta, get her settled. Get her food. It's not like I have the same needs as the two of you."

The door clicked closed behind him and I was left with the dancing Greta. Swallowing, I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably and watched her busy herself at the counter, hips still moving in the same rhythm of the music.

Dark skin gleamed in the waning light of the lamplight above and I rubbed my fingers tiredly over my temples. This was going to be a long, long last few weeks of my life.

A very long last few weeks…

And grindingly hollow and dreadful…

Living with Klaus and Greta was like living with two psychotic toddlers. Klaus was the grenade without a pin, whereas Greta was the smothered little girl finally having free reins over her own body, soul and magic. They were worse than Damon.

Not worse in killing — I suppose perhaps even in killing, but they hadn't left behind a dead girl for me to trip over one morning clambering out of bed or a slaughtered man in the kitchen when I went to get a drink — however, they were less predictable.

After being fed that first night and being pumped for information by Greta, Klaus had returned. In a typical Klaus-style he'd grabbed my chin and, instead of forcing me to spill my deepest secrets, he compelled me to not leave the house until he said otherwise. He'd also agreed to most of my terms, promised he wouldn't go after my loved ones, but never spoke about my survival either. Perhaps he had that point under consideration?

I didn't sleep well the first night. Nor did I the night after that and the night after. I half-expected him or one of his lackeys to ambush me when I was in bed. It never happened.

After three nights and four days, he hadn't touched me. He hadn't even spent that much time with me in the first place. Often, just left alone or with Greta, who liked playing games, I wandered through the house. I did that one evening. I wasn't sure what day it was. The day of the week didn't hold much meaning in Klaus' house, but I knew it was late afternoon, early evening.

Canopies of pale, winter sun filtered in through the partially tinted windows scattered out over the rug in the living room. I'd been curled up on one brown ratty Chesterfield, skimming through one of the books I'd found. It was an old print on the greatest artist through time (till the year 1966) and although it wouldn't have been a book I would have chosen to read normally, it was interesting enough.

"There you are," Greta thundered, hip jutting out against the wall, hand tapping against the side of the bookcase, "you surely know how to make yourself scarce."

"I wouldn't want to be in the way of your preparations to have me sacrificed," I replied frostily.

"There is a bit of that funk. Come on white girl, don't go easy on me now."

"What do you want from me, Greta?" I asked slowly. "Klaus isn't here. You don't have to entertain him with my humiliation."

She grinned. "You think I try to humiliate you?"

"Yes," I agreed readily. What else did she want to call the sarcastic comments about 'women with my face' and 'being easy?' Friendly bantering? I leant forward. Dark waves of hair fell forward, curtaining my face from the world. The ends of my hair tickled my wrists and the backs of my hands and I stared at the page I'd been reading from.

"I'm not." She denied and I dared a glance at her oval face. She looked earnest enough.

"Than what are the comments for?"

"Hm," she grinned dropping on the arm of the couch, nudging my leg with the nose of her boot. "I've been trying to get a reaction out of you." She admitted finally. Her smile was of the dangerous kind and I wetted my lips nervously. "I know what you are, Dollface."

"What I am?"

"This is not your body."

"No!" I snarled. "What— No!"

Dread coursed down my spine and made my fingers go numb. I was only half aware that the book on my lap shifted perilously before it fell to the rug with a hollow 'plop'. My heart twisted with the dread of what this meant and my mouth went dry. "No!"

"I'm a witch, Elena," she answered, "and I'm a good one too."

"But—"

"This is not your body." Greta answered, digging the knife in deeper. I couldn't speak. I couldn't utter a single word as she continued. "Don't get me wrong, it's not easy to pick up on, but that body hasn't always been yours."

"How— how the fuck could you possibly know?"

"Markers of your previous life still cling to you. Although they are dwindling…"

I made a strangled noise from the back of my throat and pushed to my feet. "Excuse me?"

"Life leaves marks on us. Like when you fall and get a scar. These marks are like those. Although instead of scars on your body, they're on your soul. The lessons learned, the death of a beloved pet or a parent." She started and something hard and painful clogged in my throat. I'd lost my father when I'd been eighteen, in my Senior year of High School. He'd been sick, very sick and one day he went to sleep, to never awake again. It had been easy to pretend that at least he'd been still alive right now. That he would have been if I'd gotten stuck in someone else's body in my reality years in the past, and somehow that had been enough not to go looking for him. This version of my father wouldn't know me. This version of my mother might not even have gotten a child (she'd never wanted one before meeting my dad), and I didn't want to go to them knowing I was no-one to them either. I shook my head. It couldn't have been what Greta meant though.

"I don't buy this." I tried evenly. "If it was that easy everyone would already have picked up on it."

"Every witch or warlock," Greta absentmindedly corrected.

"You're father and brother didn't. They only did when they broke into my thoughts."

"Of course not," she grinned, her lips curling up in a caricature of a smile, "but Elena, my baby bro and my daddy dearest don't do the kind of magic I do. They wouldn't pick up on it, because they don't know how to. Dark magic leaves marks too. You're right. You losing your father or not feeling a real bond with the people you have to call 'mom and dad' doesn't mean anything. The string faintly tied around your soul, that, however, does mean something."

"A string?" I echoed doubtfully and Greta nodded.

"Yes, Honey, a string."

"And you would be able to reverse it?" I asked, stepping closer to her.

That wiped the grin right off her face and I felt that last bit of hope I somehow still been clinging to vanish. I knew her answer even before she shook her head slowly, the late afternoon sun turning her dark curly hair a bloody red. "No, I can't." She admitted. "I don't think anyone can. This kind of magic. It can't be undone. It's a sacrifice. To safe someone you sacrifice yourself, burn up every magical cell you have. You disappear as if you'd never even existed so your loved one can have a life outside of whatever horror he or she had been living." She tried and I felt something angry crawl down my spine.

"But you ruin someone else's life."

"Yes," she admitted. "It's worse than just upsetting the balance of nature. Magic isn't supposed to support something so evil. Snatching someone from their bodies? To actually completely remove someone's soul so someone else can inhibit it in a different universe? I'm surprised someone would attempt that."

"There's no way you just picked up on me being from a different universe." I snapped.

"No, you're right. Luka told me."

"Luka?"

"Yes, accidentally really," she grinned, "he's never been good at protecting his mind."

"You did the witch equivalent of putting a roofie on him didn't you?"

She nodded, not looking even the slightest bit apologetic about it. "I did." She agreed and with a mirthless chuckle, she snatched a lock of my hair, flitting it through her fingers as if somehow measuring its texture. "Don't believe anyone who says they can fix this. Swapping someone, dragging something from a parallel universe, is the direst kind of magic there is and if you were hoping for a way out— well, there isn't. The only one who could, erased him or herself from existence. That's the price one has to pay."

"So I wouldn't even know him or her?"

"No," Greta replied. "Nature will have to balance it out. For you to live Elena's life, there can be no way back. Or really, it's for Elena to live."

"Why me?"

It had been a question that had been plaguing my mind for months now. Why me? I had nothing in common with Elena for perhaps my name. I hadn't been a cheerleader in school. I wasn't a writer or a journalizer. I didn't have a string of boyfriends who would lay down their lives for me. As far as I knew I didn't have several replicas of myself either…

"I don't know. You must have something foundational in common that you might not know about."

"Great," I grumbled, "can't think of anything."

"You might never know," Greta shrugged, "it's often really specific I've been told."

I ground my teeth together and met her eyes slowly. I tried swallowing. So it was hopeless? Practically every witch I'd met had told me that, yet, I'd still held hope. If I'd just know who or why— because then perhaps I could understand. But I never would, would I?

"What will you do now?" I asked. Because of course, when Klaus would learn what I was—

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, "honestly, if I'd been you everyone could have gone and sucked it."

"Sucked it?" I repeated because no way was she going to keep this secret for me.

"Yes," she agreed, "you do understand that it was someone who loved your Elena so much that they couldn't have been bothered with what the real you would have thought about it, right? I mean you were just expendable. They tore you from your life, from your world, and stuck you in this Doppelgänger's body and you just stayed put. You understood what it all meant but you stayed put."

"I— before today— I didn't know the specifics of that spell," I answered lamely.

"No," Greta shrugged, "but you knew what would happen to Elena."

"Yeah, right, I knew that."

"You didn't owe those people anything. Let's face it, you don't owe Klaus shit either." She continued and the noise in my head was cacophonous. "And yet, here you are. Klaus might think he has been clever. That he snubbed his brother's plan in the butt, but he wouldn't have been able to if you hadn't been so willing to work with him."

"Well, you're the one who got him to agree to my terms. Or part of them. He isn't going after the town's people is he? He hasn't point blank told me no to the surviving part either. That's something and you helped— at least I think so…"

"You don't get Klaus to do anything Elena. I merely coaxed him into agreeing with you."

"I don't understand why you would," I murmured.

She gave me a sad look, unlike any of the ones she'd ever given me and somehow my shoulders tensed together. "I know what it's like to have no choice. To have to make do with something you don't really want but still do it because, in the end, it helps the people you've come to care about."

"I thought you said you would run."

"I would, but I then again, I would have known one of those two-faced bitches would have been the one responsible for my pain and horror." She shrugged. Her eyes turned solemn. "I'm sorry you're the one getting stuck in this. I don't know the real girl who wore that face before you, but, I'm genuinely sorry."

"In another life, things would have been different," I remarked dully.

"I'd like to think so." A small smile played on her lips. She was gone the next moment and for a long time, I wondered if I had just imagined the entire conversation. With the amount of stress I was under, it wouldn't have surprised me…

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-Three, A Bird in her Gilded Cage

On the day of the sacrifice, I got up early, dressing in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a sweatshirt, and my old pair of trainers. I'd spent most of it in a blur of anxiety, ignoring the splintering, blistering headache in the back of my head, and waiting.

I remembered little from the evening before, only broken fragments of nightmares, food, and Klaus and Greta dancing. The latter, I was sure hadn't happened and I'd curled up in the dusty library, flipping through old books.

When Klaus finally came to collect me from the living room I'd remained in all day, I was almost trembling.

We departed shortly after the sun had started its descend. With a remark of 'you're quieter than normal,' — sometimes I really wondered if that man had any sense at all — he all but threw me in the passenger seat of his dark SUV. He drove us back to Mystic Falls with a grin on his face.

Maddox and Greta had settled in the back with the warlock playing an Angry Birds game on his phone in boredom and the witch picking at her glittery nail polish. Both looked unconcerned with the situation while I sat ramrod straight in my seat.

A classic ballad filtered out from the radio speakers and the Original was at ease (and why wouldn't he be, he had everything ready to go), fingers occasionally tapping on the steering wheel in time with the swelling of the violin music, an easy smile grazing his lips.

"So Elena," he started in that the devil may care tone of his, "how are you feeling this day?"

"I've got a bit of a headache," I told him drolly.

"Unsurprising," he smirked, "you drank a tad bit much, didn't you?"

"I feel fine enough, now," I remarked defensively. The headache wasn't that bad.

Klaus' smirk broadened, dimples cutting into his cheeks. "I suppose after I held your hair back while you hurled up every drop of alcohol you consumed, you must feel better."

"You did what?" I whispered and felt my cheeks flush with heat. "I did what?"

"Hm, hm," he agreed, "you don't hold your alcohol well."

My heart skyrocketed and for a moment I could only wallow in shame and self-pity. Then something in his grin tipped me off. "You're— you're lying! I didn't, I—" I flipped him the bird before I thought better of it and he sniggered.

"There she is," he looked in front of him again, "I was already wondering if you became catatonic."

"Jerk."

He grinned and I crossed my arms over my chest and averted my eyes. Of course, he would push my buttons one last time. I shouldn't forget, Klaus thrived on being a big fish in a small pond. We'd passed Roanoke, snowy, white-washed surroundings flashing by. After weeks, I still had no idea how to deal with Klaus.

Klaus wrapped almost every sentence in promises. Klaus was somewhat willing to spare the people Elena was close to, in a way I was close to, even if he hadn't willing to save me. But— I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to talk about it either—

"Greta, is everything prepared for?"

"Of course," she agreed and from my peripheral vision I noticed her trace her fingers over her charm bracelet. Swallowing my irritation, a truly herculean effort if I may add, I went back to watch the scenery outside of the window.

I didn't want to talk about the sacrifice. Couldn't talk about my death anyway and pressed my lips so tightly together they'd turned white. I tuned their words out and distracted myself by counting trees and looking for red cars. A troublesome task with the quickly darkening sky around me.

Shortly after half-past seven, we crossed Wickery bridge into Mystic Falls, I held my breath. The sign in front of it, the one I'd never noticed before, told me the massive wooded construction that had played a central role in the first four seasons (perhaps in later seasons also, but of that, I couldn't be sure) almost a century ago.

My hands had gotten clammy. Soon we would leave the bustling part of Mystic Falls behind us and I would be surrounded by a ring of fire at the bottom of the quarry. Elena Gilbert was supposed to die among Jenna and Werewolf Jules. At least I hoped that would have changed. My eyes searched out Klaus, his face half hidden in shadows but his eyes eerily alight.

"You promised, didn't you?" I whispered because I had to hear him say it again. I had to.

"Yes, we've covered that, haven't we?" He retorted drolly.

That wasn't really enough, but— Pushing him had never ended well in the show. Wetting my lips, I stared out at the night's darkened landscape.

"I've waited so long for this moment," he mentioned and I turned to look at him again.

"Right, for over a thousand years."

"Yes," he agreed, looking pleased again, "one of these days, Elena, you should explain to me how you know so much."

I inhaled sharply. "You won't believe me," I answered off-handedly, forcing my back to relax into the cushion of the car seat. "I'm not even sure if everything I know even adds up anymore."

"Hm," he hummed, "so far you were right."

"Yeah," I agreed softly, "so far I was right."

He parked the car a block away from the Grill (I recognized the shop windows) and I frowned. I could only imagine the broadening of the search for me and parking the car almost in front of the police station seemed bold, if not a bit stupid.

"Why are we here?" I asked slowly.

"The humans need to eat, don't they?" He asked, at least doing me the courtesy to not pretend he didn't understand me. "I'd come to realize I should keep you humans fed if I want you healthy."

"But people will see me," I said stupidly.

"The wonder of compelling." He remarked drolly.

"Right," I mumbled and as the two witches clambered out of the car, I remained seated. "I could also wait here. That would probably be even better. No compulsion needed that way."

"Out, my lovely Doppelgänger," he smirked and leaned past me to open the passenger door.

"But—"

"Out. What is the fun of not pushing a few people's buttons?"

"Those people will try to stop you. You gave me your word. You said wouldn't harm them."

"And I won't," he grinned, "now play along, Elena."

When I stepped out of the car, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, looking for all intents and purposes like a boyfriend chaperoning his girlfriend around and I felt incredibly self-conscious.

He seemed to know his way around, navigating through the snow-covered streets, wet snowflakes brushing against my cheeks. I clutched my coat close to my chest, much like a security blanket. The banner of the Grill doomed up in the semi-darkness and I clenched my teeth.

"This isn't a good idea."

"Of course, it is," Greta smiled and I felt a shudder run through me, "I'd think you would want to see one of your loved ones…"

"Yeah," I mumbled, thinking about my parents. My real parents. "I would have loved to."

The grill was heavily Christmas-themed and the wooden tables gleamed in the Grill's warm orange light. The murmur of so many people was slightly disconcerting after being secluded for those last few weeks and I wrapped my arms even tighter around myself.

My eyes were drawn to the Christmas tree at one side of the Grill and then to the decoration strings hung along the bar.

Vicky Donovan was working the bar, curly hair loosely swaying around her shoulders and her lips stretched into a most painful smile while an elderly couple bickered over what they were going to order.

Absentmindedly, I wondered why she was even allowed to wear her hair down. I'd had a side job as a waitress before. Certainly wasn't allowed to wear my hair loose.

"Yuck, they only have fast food." Greta huffed, tapping one glittery polished nail against the menu.

"No, there's also a chicken salad." The warlock drolly replied and I sniffed.

"I don't really care what we eat. Can't we just order something and get out?"

"Stick in the mud," Greta remarked although Maddox looked as if he wholly agreed with me.

A waiter, a tall blond boy neared our table and smiled pleasantly. "Hi there, can I take your order?"

Greta ordered first, sending her brown curls over one shoulder. "Red wine and I'd like a Caesar salad."

"Hamburger and a beer," Maddox ordered.

"Me too," I mumbled, keeping my eyes firmly on my hands, "a veggie hamburger that is, and a water."

"And you, Sir?" the waiter asked, looking at Klaus who was twirling a coaster around between two long, elegant fingers. He looked up slowly, predatory really, his canines showing as he smiled.

"Ah, yes, I'd like a Bourbon," Klaus drawled, the muscles in his shoulders bunching up, straining against his shirt and I felt a shudder run through me. "I'd also like a

"Klaus—" I mumbled, nails digging into the rough wood of the table, "you don't have to—"

"Don't be difficult, Elena."

"You'd think you get enough blood tonight, as it is." I huffed and Greta let out a laugh.

"She's right about that, you know." She grinned but Klaus ignored her and looked back at the boy.

The waiter's mouth pursed after a few seconds, I suspected the compulsion settled in and nodded robotically. "Of course, I'll be right back with your drinks." He veered away and I looked away, teeth clenching so hard together I almost felt the enamel strip off them.

"That was unnecessary," I muttered furiously.

A smirk curled around the edges of Klaus' mouth and jerked his chin towards the bar. "He'll live sweetheart, could have taken him outside for a walk couldn't I?"

"I'm sure you don't want to ruin the festive atmosphere," Greta said, dropping the menu on the table.

"I'm sure I don't care Luv," Klaus remarked easily and a shrill bell sound distracted him briefly. I watched him pull out his cellphone, eyes skipping over the screen. It took under a second for his eyebrows to furrow and his eyes to narrow to slits. Thumb swiping over the screen, he appeared to be scrolling through a thread of texts that had appeared, and if I had to guess he wasn't happy about them.

My heart leaped in my chest. Perhaps someone had found his werewolf and vampire and had set them free? Perhaps, I would get to live another month.

From my vantage point, hidden behind Elena's long hair, I could tell he was growing more impatient by the second and I felt my shoulders lock together. What the fuck was going on?

"Is something—"

"You've got some irritating friends," Klaus muttered, swiping at his phone and I tried swallowing.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing sweetheart, I'll deal with this."

Before I could reply, he had already pocketed his phone and jerked to his feet. I was already scrambling to my feet as well, but Greta's hand shot out, catching my wrist, restraining me. "Don't Elena!"

"But—"

"He'll keep his word," Maddox grumbled, fingers drumming against the tabletop.

"He'll kill them."

The muscles in Maddox's forearm corded, flexed and his upper lip curled up. "You'd think you have other things to worry about, don't you?"

I glared. However, he wasn't wrong. Besides, I didn't have a chance against Klaus. I could only hope he would not go and rip apart half of the town. Whatever was left of my appetite, was gone now. And somehow that was exactly when the blond waiter boy appeared again, dropping our drinks on the table.

Blood, thick and viscous sloshing in a high stemmed wine glass. Vicky Donovan arrived next, holding onto our dinner. My stomach churned nauseously and I looked away.

"Eat something," Greta ordered.

"Do the other know the sacrifice is tonight?" I asked, wondering why the fuck we were here.

"I'm positive Klaus' brother knows it is a full moon tonight," Greta shrugged picking at her chicken.

"Wonderful," I grumbled. I stabbed my hamburger with my fork toyed with the food. It was one way to pass time. Scraping my knife over my plate, I kept my eyes on my hands.

"God, incompetent is a verb in this town," Klaus hissed, appearing next to the table out of nowhere.

My knife slipped, nicking my finger and I hissed. Greta turned to smile at him, but even her smile fell. "What's wrong?"

"I need you and Maddox to deal with Damon and Stefan Salvatore," he remarked drolly.

"What— No!" I gasped and Klaus waved his hand at me, sitting down again.

"Just incapacitate then. No need to ruffle our Doppelgänger's feathers." He remarked irritatedly, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense, straining against his shirt. He looked menacing, furious, and then his expression changed. I wasn't familiar enough with him to parse out the nuance of it, but I thought he looked ready to murder the entirety of the Grill.

"I don't understand, what could they possibly have done that made you this upset?" Klaus didn't answer. I wasn't even sure if I expected him to and gripped my wrist, thumb drawing lazy circles over my pulse point. "What are you doing?"

"Eat, Elena, I want to leave quickly."

"I'm not hungry," I whispered.

Klaus shrugged in his devil-may-care-way and dropped money on the tabletop. Far too much, if I may add and for a moment I frowned. No one seemed to be bothered, and almost absentmindedly I extracted some of the money, about to hand it back to Klaus. However, money didn't seem to mean anything to Klaus as he ignored my outstretched hand, and pulled me closer, tucking me into his side.

"Deal with it Greta," he remarked, and then we were gone again. I truly abhorred vampire speed. It was nauseating, it was toe-curling and then he stopped next to his car.

A thick layer of snowy dust had assembled on the hood and roof of the car. For a second I was struck by how beautiful it looked and then the moment was broken. Klaus swiped his forearm along the windscreen and I tranquillity settled in the passenger seat of the car.

Klaus drove us to the edge of the cemetery. He hadn't mentioned we would be going to the church ruins — because of course, we would be visiting old Fell's church in the last few hours of my life — but I knew exactly where we would be heading to. T

he cold winter sunlight barely even reached through the spindly branches of the trees, and I kept my gaze firmly on the forest floor before me. Surprisingly, there was little snow covering the ground and I was glad at least the paths would be passable. Didn't mean I shouldn't keep my eyes on my feet.

It would be just like me to trip over a fucking tree root and break my neck. Although, I probably would come back from that, with the mystical potion in my system and all.

The wind lashed across my face, making me shiver, but Klaus looked unconcerned with the cold. Must be nice having the metabolism of a ferret as well as the heat reservoir of a penguin. I sniggered at that mental description and Klaus looked at me oddly. It was the first expression on his face I had grown used to getting. I was an oddball after all.

"Amused, Sweetheart."

"No," I remarked easily and ducked out beneath a branch, "I just— how are you not cold?"

"Vampires don't notice temperatures, Sweetheart."

"Right, of course," I remarked dryly. How could I forget?

The ground was slippery, the tree canopy so dense that the track was thrown in a deep, dark shade. The leaves, death and whispering, were dank and moist, snagging into my hair. Klaus took a deep turn onto another path, a barely discernible path of the earth and fallen leaves, overgrown with nettles and weeds and I almost fell.

Grumbling I wondered how much further— but the church doomed up in the stark twilight.

"Why—"

"Visiting someone, Luv," he smiled, "I think you will approve."

Somehow, those words made sense to me. In the tomb where vampires could enter, but couldn't get out of. I knew who we would be visiting. I suddenly understood that somehow he'd managed to catch her. Had somehow managed to catch Katherine Pierce and lock her up in the tomb.

I supposed he might even think it was a rather biblical punishment for Katherine. To be desiccated alive in the same town he first fell in love with Tatia, or the same tomb she should have been locked into in the first place.

I pushed my numb hands deeply into the pockets of my winter coat and followed Klaus slowly. He moved with ease, obviously not bothered by the darkness, and I swallowed. He'd moved to the low, mossy wall, probably peering down the narrow steps beneath the church and I cleared my throat.

"Klaus, I can't see." I started. "Can't I just stay here?"

In the last sunlight, Klaus' face looked faintly amused before he dug out his cellphone. Turning the light on, he pushed it into my hands. "There Sweetheart, problem solved."

"Right, thanks," I mumbled and slowly followed Klaus down the flagstone path towards Fell's church. With the entrance still mostly hidden from view, I almost missed the ground suddenly opening up to a pair of spiraling, stone stairs. Klaus didn't, he was already halfway down when I stumbled after him.

The stone room looked the same as it had the last time I'd been here and I held the phone close to my chest. The light trembling on the walls as my fingers shook and I had to breathe several times to control my erratic heart rate.

Every hair on my arms and the back of my neck were standing up and from deep inside, hidden behind the slab of stone hiding the tomb's entrance from me, I could hear the same whispers trying to lure me in. Klaus stepped up to the block of stone, fingers curling around the sides.

When he started pushing it, he didn't seem to break a sweat moving it away from the entrance. Not like Busboy Ben and Noah who'd needed their combined strength to move it.

Grinding aside, the dark gaping tomb was revealed. Klaus slid the stone to the ground on one side of the tomb and I directed the beam of light inside. It looked as grossly as I remembered. Cobwebs fluttered in the light breeze and the dirt floor, lightly disturbed by recent activity.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Klaus singsonged and I flinched.

"Why?" I asked. "What's the point of this? Is she going to be part of the sacrifice?"

"No, Luv, I spent five-hundredth years chasing her. Her death is going to last at least half of that."

"Right," I mumbled, "of course."

It took a moment but then Katherine moved into view. If seeing someone's doppelgänger on a computer screen was strange, then seeing her in real life was even stranger.

Waves of brunette curls spilled over Katherine's shoulders, her face gaunt but a face I knew. A face I'd been seeing every time I'd been looking into the mirror. She was wearing a dusty black jacket, tight-fitting jeans, and a pair of designer boots. Her dark eyes flitted to me.

"Ah, Elena," she croaked, a small smile pulling at her lips.

How could she still smile while being locked up in a magically warded tomb? I squeezed the phone, pointing the beam straight in Katherine's face. The smile never left her face, even when she turned her face to the Original vampire.

"Katerina," Klaus grinned, his hands folded behind his back, "how wonderful you look."

I didn't agree with him on that. Katherine looked horrible, dragging her body up against the stone wall. She was dressed in a dark, formfitting dress, the hem sewed in with lace, but that was the only thing looking lively about her. Her face was gaunt, the hue of her skin almost greenish, cheekbones protruding dangerously beneath her waxy skin. If she'd been human I would have thought she seemed as if she was at death's door.

"Hello Klaus," she croaked, and she smiled my way, lifting her hand and waggling her fingers at me.

"You sound surprisingly chipper, Luv."

"Hm, I'm just watching my carbon copy," she grinned, letting her eyes rove over me leisurely. "Did you enjoy her?"

"She's been a fresh breath of air compared to you," Klaus agreed and I made a furious noise.

"We're not sleeping together— I'm not you, Katherine!" I hissed back, previous jitters forgotten.

"My favorite Doppelgänger is very squeamish about her virtue."

I sniffed furiously and considered chucking the phone at Klaus' head. In the end, I decided against it and settled for flipping him the finger. The Original wasn't faced, his face cocked to one side while licking his lips. I wondered how long I still had. I was sure it couldn't be long.

If the line of his jaw tensing meant anything, I'd say he was anxious. God, why didn't I take longer in playing with my food? I could have gone without the awkward conversation between Klaus and Katherine.

"—But at least you have company, don't you?" Klaus grinned and as if summoned a second figure appeared. The beam of the phone shivered before I managed to land it on the newest arrival's face.

My mouth slacked open when I realized who it was opposite of me. Damon Salvatore, jaw chiseled and skin almost as smooth as I remembered. Coiffed black curls a bit messier than I'd remembered.

"Damon?"

"Reunited with his lover," Klaus grinned.

My mouth drew into a tight line. He wasn't wrong, of course. Damon had pined after Katherine for over a century. Had killed and maimed and had been willing to sacrifice an entire town out of vengeance. I curled my fingers around the hems of my coat.

Was I supposed to say something? Was I supposed to care?

Damon's handsome, angular features were twisted in annoyance. In indignation? Put out by being caught? Furious someone even managed to do that in the first place? I wasn't sure. I averted my eyes, leaning against the wall.

"And you came here to gloat," Damon said, smirking. He never had much sense.

"Hm, I thought you would want to see her face one more time."

Damon made an almost inhuman sound and I flinched. I watched Damon's nostrils flare and Klaus grinned like the Cheshire Cat getting the canary. I couldn't do this anymore. I didn't doubt that this world was twisting me up. I'd like to think I would have tried something.

I'd liked to think would have tried helping Damon even though he didn't really deserve my loyalty, but I could only imagine Klaus' reaction if I did. He would probably be delighted in aggravating me over it and—

I had enough-

Twisting my body away from the sight of the two entombed vampires, I stalked to the stairs. Klaus's laugh hauntingly echoed after me and I exhaled loudly once I'd stumbled out and leaned heavily against one of the moist church walls.

The full moon was out, rising towards its apex. Clouds skated across the crescent, casting strange shadows across the forest floor and I shivered. The foliage swayed in the chilly breeze and pressed my chilly hands between my knees.

"You and Elijah should get on like a house on fire, Luv," Klaus drawled and I froze.

"Why is that?" I whispered, absolutely terrified. I could tell he was right behind me. I wondered if somehow my awareness of him had something to do with him being the predator and me being the prey.

The deer that would soon be murdered over a slab of stone. I wanted to open my mouth and ask why I had to die, but my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. I couldn't say anything about it.

"I would call him a pencil licker. I would call you the same."

"I'm not a pencil licker," I huffed.

"You can be quite boring."

"Right," I said and rolled my eyes.

Klaus shot me a smile, holding out his hand. "Shall we go, Luv?"

"I—Right, of course," I murmured.

"That's my girl," he grinned and an arm wrapped around my waist. I didn't fight (what would be the point anyway) and I felt his breath fan out over my ear. "You should probably close your eyes."

"Why?"

"High velocity often makes humans sick," he dryly remarked, and the next moment—

I could only see blurs of grey and when I opened my eyes we were standing before a ring of fire, at the bottom of the quarry. I peered around, noting the circle of fire around a fang-bearing vampire and a groaning and twisting werewolf. I had never seen either of them.

"How come the vampire can't escape?" I asked, and Klaus looked down at me with a frown.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I get how the werewolf can't, but the vampire could just—" I started. It had always boggled me about the show.

"—step over the fire?" He smirked and his fingers twirled up my neck, ghosting over my cheeks before angling my face just right. "Do you see the salt?" He asked and I squinted my eyes at the uniformed circle of white around the fires. "That's a boundary spell, right there."

"Oh," I frowned, somehow that sounded familiar, "I see."

"Hm, yes you do, don't you?" He hummed and let go of my face. "Well, sit tight, my lovely doppelgänger. I'll be with you soon."

I waited, rigid, barely breathing as Klaus moved towards Greta before moving easily into the circle with the werewolf. The dark-skinned witch was moving her arms gracefully around as if directing an orchestra. She'd settled behind the burning fire in the middle of the clearing, chanting, whispering. Maddox was on the other side. I had no idea what he was doing. He hadn't been there the first time around.

Klaus had already moved in the circle surrounding the vampire and I pointedly didn't look as he forced the girl down to the ground, ramming the stake into her chest. I wondered if killing the vampire presented the curse of the sun burning a vampire's skin the way killing a werewolf presented the curse of the moon.

My fingers had started to shake when the fire Greta still stood behind rose in length, wispy smoke curling up towards the sky. The wind gusted slightly and the branches above my head moved. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. He would come for me next and my body started to tremble.

I pressed my hands tightly between my knees, closing my eyes, and forcefully tried to keep my breathing even. It wouldn't do to have a full-blown panic attack now, but I couldn't alter the feeling of my breath escaping my lungs or the way my heart pressed painfully against my ribcage.

"Are you ready, my dear?" His voice suddenly whispered from beside me.

I couldn't help flinching, before forcing myself to meet his gaze. "No," I responded flatly. I wasn't.

He smirked holding out his hand, fingers waggling. My breath escaped me again and I tried to take in shallow gulps of air. In a gesture of bravado, I straightened my back and stepped back, my shoulder brushing his.

"Come on, Elena. Don't be afraid." He whispered. "I promise, it won't hurt. I will be gentle."

Squaring my shoulders, I held myself up to my fullest height and placed my hand into his, and let him lead me to the stone elevation. Once we were standing beside it, I lifted my trembling hands and carded my hair away from my throat, tilting my head to the side.

The muscles and tendons in my neck so tense an ache worked up my jaw. 'It won't hurt and perhaps I'll wake in my own body,' echoed weakly through my head and I tried not to flinch when Klaus' hands clutched my shoulders, pulling me closer against him. Two fingers beneath my chin, turned my face to meet his and I swallowed nervously.

"Thank you, Elena," he whispered, his blue eyes gleaming brightly in anticipation. I didn't stop him when his lips trailed down my throat, nestled against the base of my neck, but I did winch when his fangs pierced my skin. I felt a dull ache spread out across my throat and then, something wet, rolling down my collarbone. It was terrifying.

However, he was true to his word. When Klaus started to drain me, it was painless. I breathed out hard, my fingers curling around his wrist. Curling around the arm he'd wrapped around my waist and blinked rapidly. It was a reflex, I supposed.

A deeply ingrained reflex to live, but the world was fading quickly. I spluttered out a gasp and my body became heavy, my legs weakening. My eyelids became heavy, my eyelashes fluttering over my cheekbones and I went limp in his grip. Darkness descended so fast I felt little when I slipped into a world that was— nothing.

It was over—

And then, it was not-

To be continued...

Chapter Text

o.O.o

When I awoke, it was to a sunny Friday morning during late winter. Above me was an endless expanse of dark, naked branches, reaching up to an unmoving gray sky. Everything seemed colorless and completely still and as I moved, pain shot up my spine.

I moved up to my knees, slowly, breathing in and out, trying to control the budding panic attack. I felt dizzy, there was an ache in the back of my head and the tips of my fingers felt numb and frozen. However, did any of that mean I'd died and came back in transition? The dark ground beneath me blurred, and my eyes burned. I sucked down each breath and I moved my fingers to my gums.

To my canines, but nothing seemed amiss, nor was I dizzy or craving blood. Which made no sense.

I didn't remember taking any sort of cure, nor could I remember Klaus force feeding me any vampire blood either. I thought if I was in transition I would remember things Klaus, or any other vampire for that matter, had compelled me to forget, right? That left some kind of spell— perhaps the Martin Witches had saved me? I groaned. Perhaps it was frustration, perhaps it was elation, but I couldn't name the emotion that churned down my spine. I pushed myself up onto my knees and stretched my arms in front of me.

My body was stiff and every part of me felt sore. I wondered if that was the natural response from a body that should have gone into rigor mortis by now — since I had died — and blinked blearily. My coat was caked with dirt and the tips of my fingers were cold and stark white. When I thought about it, the rest of my body was cold too.

I stared around over the ritual site. The burnt circles, the scent of smoke and the werewolf girl. My stomach churned at the sight. The woman's limbs were grotesquely twisted, her head turned away and the bones in her neck sticking out at an odd angle. Some blood had trickled down one nostril and I scrambled to my feet quickly — cold forgotten.

"Oh fuck!"

The corpse stared up at me with sightless eyes and I dry-heaved over the low-hanging bushes to the side of the clearing. I didn't feel better when I leant up again, but at least the need to throw up had vanished (slightly at least). I quickly dared a glance at the second body, gray and cold and littered with veins. The vampire looked even worse than the werewolf and something clear and oily was oozing through where the skin had been broken by the protruding stake.

My fingers trailed over the perfect semicircle of puncture marks on my throat and then— I ran. I managed not to scream in terror — to let out all the screams of fear — but I did run. I ran hard and fast and was wheezing loudly when I reached a narrow dirt road. I had no idea where I was, which way I had to go and soon tears were mingling with snot as I fell on the ground. For the first time in months, I actually thought I deserved the breakdown and muffled my sobs against my arms.

When I regained some control over my breathing, I stumbled further down the trail. Here and there patches of snow lay on the ground and in the crisp, clear morning sun, the forest seemed a lot more friendly, not malevolent. The sun shone through the bare branches and the bustling conifer needles above me, and the air was thick with the smell of pine.

A smell I'd previously associated with visions of long walks and even perhaps the winter holidays, now ruined. I wondered if I would ever associate the scent with anything else but horrible deaths and pained hypocrisy.

I moved slowly, hitching my damp coat higher up and around my shoulders. It was a long trek, or it felt like a long trek. I wasn't sure which one was true. Either way, when the trees began to thin out and I heard the bustle of traffic, I knew I was near the road. Exhaling gratefully, I quickened my step and almost cried out in joy when I passed the outskirts of the woods. I was exhausted. The sun has risen above the trees at this point, but it was still early and most of the town appeared to be asleep. With tired eyes, I stared around. I had arrived at the edge of what I assumed was the bustling business neighborhood of Mystic Falls, but I had no idea how to get home. I had no phone, no knowledge of who I could trust and whom I couldn't. Nothing. So, I walked up to the first person I saw on the street and asked if I could call an Uber with his phone. I had no idea if he recognized Elena Gilbert or not— probably— but I wasn't sure. He didn't say anything when I pulled up the number or the closest Uber driver.

"Thank you," I mumbled almost robotically and the man nodded curtly, straightened his dress jacket.

"Of course," he agreed. His expression gave away how odd he my appearance thought, coat damp and face pale. I suspected half of the forest had made an appearance in my hair, but once he turned around, I couldn't remember what he looked like. I wondered if that was the first sign I might have been in shock.

The Uber driver arrived shortly and as he drove me away from what I later learned was Founders Street, I stared outside and watched the buildings slide by. The Uber driver drove fast, making no conversation and for that, I was thankful. When the houses became larger, accentuated with the large wraparound porches and the neat lawns, my thoughts drifted. I still had Klaus' change money and gripped it tightly when the Uber driver pulled up in front of Elena's two-story house.

"That will be $7.60, please," the man said and I all but pushed the paper money in his hands and stumbled out of the car. I gave one look at the jeweled sky above before stumbling towards the porch.

I didn't have my keys, why would I, and almost fell into the birdhouse with the uncoordinated way I grabbed for the spare. When I finally managed to unlock the door and step into the wood paneled hall, the steps of the stairs creaked noisily. A man was barreling down and I had a second to let out a gasp and try to step back when my name was called.

"Elena!"

"John?" I gasped bewildered and had exactly three-seconds before he hugged me close and tight.

"I thought—" he started but never finished his sentence.

I knew what he thought, though. I hadn't given him any thought when I decided on a whim Elijah could compel Elena's parents and brother. I hadn't realized he might have known about Elena's sacrifice, but hence he did. And hence, he probably heard about it from Isobel. I helplessly, limply rested in his arms as he blubbered words of insurance against the crown of my head.

"I'm okay," I whispered awkwardly.

"Yes," he agreed.

"I'm really okay, Uncle John."

"You're alive!"

I was. However, I was still unsure how or why. It took a moment for John to compose himself and to let go of me. John avoided my eyes, licking his lips. The line of his jaw was tense and after a moment I cleared my throat, desperate to dispel whatever worries he still had. "I'm okay. I really am."

John nodded grimly, looking restless and I watched him with a frown as he walked past me through the door into the sitting room. "Sit down, I'm going to get you something warmer to wear."

"That's okay—"

"Sit down, Elena."

He said it so compulsory, I couldn't help but slump onto one of the sofas. John left the living room. I heard him climb the stairs and step onto the landing, his footsteps heavy.

The ceiling above creaked as he moved into my bedroom. When he returned less than five minutes later, he was carrying several towels, a bathrobe and a jogging suit. He offered them with a grim smile and I wrapped the largest towel around my chilled body.

John sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of me and I nervously carded my fingers through my damp and sweaty hair. It was a lost cause. Even Elena's hair had its limits apparently.

"What happened?"

"I think you know," I whispered and curled my legs up beneath me.

"You made a deal with an Original."

"See, you do know."

"And somehow that went wrong. Klaus snatched you up. How could you be so naive? How—"

His eyes slid down my face, down my neck, falling on to the fresh scar of Klaus' teeth.

"He succeeded?" His face blanched. "Are you—"

"Do I look like a vampire to you?" I returned irritably and John visibly relaxed.

"Someone saved you."

"No," I tried, and tried to formulate a logical response, "I think Klaus let me survive. We had a deal."

"A deal?"

"Hm," I agreed. I couldn't talk about this. I couldn't think about this. I rubbed my hands over my knees and John gave me a look as if he'd liked nothing more than to wallop me. Exhaling noisily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, before meeting my reluctant gaze again.

"Do you want some tea?"

"I would really like to take a shower now."

"Elena, we need to discuss this."

I shook my head. "There's nothing more to discuss. It's done now. I'm okay. No one else was killed for it. And again, I'm fine. I know you're worried. I get that. I'm just— I'm really tired. I want to take a long hot shower. And I want to sleep. Preferably in that order. Please."

"We will talk about this tomorrow?"

"I promise."

"Fine, go." He waved me away, surprisingly, if I may add, and I quickly crossed the living room.

Stumbling blindly into the bathroom, I stared into the mirror, stared at my reflection. My skin looked shallow and pale and my eyes were red-rimmed, but at least, I was alive. My fingers brushed over the scabbed mark where Klaus' fangs had pierced my neck. It was faintly visible — not as fresh as I'd thought it would look — but far enough to the side of my neck it wouldn't be that noticeable if I wore my hair down.

Perhaps in a while it wouldn't be so noticeable when I wore my hair up either— honestly, only time could tell. I hoped it wouldn't scar too badly. Stripping out of my clothes I stumbled into the shower, dunking my head beneath the warm water. I was so tired—

I wasn't sure how I managed to get myself into bed later.

However, I woke up, curled on my side, comforter snugly wrapped around my form. My back was cold and my body felt heavy. It was a strangely familiar feeling. Like waking up with a massive hangover. Waking up with a massive hangover minus the splitting headache.

My body was sluggish, heavy and slow, but it was still mine. Drawing myself up on one elbow, I slowly peered around the room. It hadn't changed in my absence. Not even in the slightest and I rolled over, pressing my face hard against my pillow. Everything that happened the last few days felt so surreal and I didn't want to get out of bed. Like ever.

The problem? I could hear John moving around downstairs. I leant forward, throwing my legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the clock on the nightstand. Eight thirty. I groaned, getting to my feet. My mind and body were buzzing as I threw open the curtains and stared outside. Snow was covering every surface and large white flakes were falling rapidly. Even the pathway to the house was undisturbed by a clean sweep of snow and I opened the window a little. I stuck my head out and peered to the left, along the rough surface of the outside wall. I wasn't sure what I was looking for.

"What are you doing, Elena?"

A sharp squeak tore from my throat and I gripped the windowsill tightly, almost losing my balance. Breath catching in my throat, I turned around quickly. John Gilbert, wearing a heavy light-brown overcoat and scuffed combat boots stared at me with a frown.

"You scared me." I gasped out.

"For a moment I thought—"

"That I was going to jump?" I finished for him, clasping my hands together. "That would be a moot point, wouldn't it? Surviving the sacrifice, yet, trying to kill myself afterwards. I feel it would be really ungrateful of me."

"That's one way of putting it," he remarked dryly. "What happened? When Grayson called me—"

"Grayson called you?" I asked and my breath began to quiver.

"Yes, somehow the compulsion fell away. The one you had your friend put on them. Elena, how could you be so careless? Compelling your parents, your brother? And then making a deal with Elijah Mikaelson? Have you gone mad?"

"I thought we were going to speak, not shout."

"Elena," John whispered and I closed the window with a soft click, "you're playing vampires. Beasts in human form. Thinking you were smart and made a deal with them? They don't play by the same set of rules as you do."

"No, exactly," I agreed, "they don't play by the same rules. Klaus would have killed anyone standing in the way between him and the cure of his curse. He would have killed both Grayson and Miranda. Would have killed you, too, had you tried. How can my parents have broken the compulsion— Oh shit!"

"What?"

"Elijah, he's death isn't he? Or he's daggered-death, isn't he?"

"I can't say," John gruffly replied, "he disappeared after Klaus came to town."

"Right—" My eyebrows furrowed together.

I had considered that could happen. Or, I knew Klaus kept all of his siblings with him in coffins. And wouldn't it have been easy? He'd been wearing the face of Zach Salvatore when he'd managed to give everyone the slip.

Elijah might have been aware that Klaus could take over others' bodies with the help of his witches. He — and Katherine in the series — had implied Klaus had no shortage of witches doing his bidding. My frown deepened. Klaus as Zack could have cornered Elijah, probably using some bullshit reason and in a moment of weakness or hesitation could have daggered his older brother.

After all, every vampire had that immense ego and self-assurance that no human could hurt them.

It was rather stupid, if I was honest.

I wrapped my arms tightly around my stomach, feeling cold, cold, so cold. The phantom flicker of flames burned from my peripheral vision and Greta's chants echo into the distance. My fingers slid over the puckered skin of the scarred flesh on my throat and I was reminded of the heat leeching from my body. From the darkening, swimming vision and—

I shuddered. "Are the Martins okay?" I tried, forcefully dispelling the fleeting feeling of pain when Klaus' fangs had dug into my skin. "The witches who were trying to help Elijah?"

"They're fine." John muttered. At least I'd done something right. He moved closer to me, almost like I was a wounded animal, and I felt a shudder pass up my spine. John was Elena's father. John genuinely cared and I supposed all of this, was probably really hard for him. It deflated my irritation and I slumped against the windowsill, curling one leg up beneath my chin. The garment of the oversized shirt was very loose on me, slipping down one shoulder

"I know you don't agree with my choices," I started, "but I swear I did what I thought was best."

"Elena—"

"I know you don't see it," I continued, because how could he, he hadn't seen what I had, "but can't you trust me that I want what's best for all of you, just as you want what's best for me?"

"Of course, I trust you," he signed and I smiled.

"Thank you."

"Just don't have your parents compelled again."

"Does that include you?"

His face blanched a white that I'd never seen on anyone. So white even the white lab coat I'd seen Grayson wear looked darker in contrast and I kept my gaze level with his. The rapid change in expressions, ranging from shock to horrified, was almost amusing. When his expression settled on tense worry, he met my gaze again. "How long have you known?"

"For a while, I guess." I shrugged, curling my fingers into the hem of my oversized T-shirt.

"Did Grayson and Miranda tell you?"

"No, you just did." I remarked softly.

"I see," he chewed his cheek and his icy-blue eyes flitted over my face. "I had no idea you suspected. I, Grayson never told me you—"

"He doesn't know I know." I shrugged. "I wasn't sure how to broach the subject."

"I—"

"Are they coming home?" I tried and he nodded. "They're upset though."

"Does Jeremy know now?" I continued, shrugging on a long vest. "Does he know about vampires?"

John nodded and I swallowed. I had no idea if that would be a problem or not. In the show Jeremy became disappointed with his role in the supernatural world. In the show he became a vampire hunter. I had no idea what else he became after season four, but I put him in the extremely depressed column. John had started pacing, massaging his temples.

"I'm sorry I lied to all of you," I tried.

"We should have realized. You'd been acting so odd, how did I not see it?"

"In your defense, I had plenty of reason to act odd."

That got a laugh out of him and I forced out a smile. This conversation was going a lot better than I'd expected. Perhaps he would even drop the subject after talking it out. Keeping calm and not shoving Elena's holier-than-though lines under his nose might even make him more agreeable. I should at least get dressed. The chill of winter — and the chill that hadn't left me ever since Klaus had drained my life away — settled against my bare legs. John wordlessly seemed to understand and with a wave of his hand, left my room. The following silence isn't comforting, but, it did bring some calm.

It didn't last—

Grayson and Miranda Gilbert returned the third morning after the sacrifice. Jeremy wasn't with them. Dropped off to stay the rest of Christmas break with family friends in Denver. To say they were upset with me would be putting it lightly. Grayson was so angry, his lips remained drawn in a tight line the entirety of my remaining Christmas break and he actively went out of his way to avoid me. Miranda seemed more forgiving, trying to see it my way and was most thankful I was alive and well.

And physically I was well. The twin-wounds had crusted over with a thin layer of dried blood — it was hard not to scratch at them — but the skin looked already a lot less reddish as it had the first day. However, my mental health? Not so much. After the first night in my bed, being so exhausted I'd slept like the death, the nightmares started. And they were nightmares. Often they brought me to the sacrifice, to the sightless corpses staring into the gray expanse of sky.

Sometimes, they settled around my previous life. The life where I'd been a university student and wore my own face. But instead of my life I still had Elena's. Instead, the deaths and the people being hurt were the people I loved most. They woke me up screaming. Screaming at the top of my lungs and sometimes I wondered which nightmare I screamed about. The one I had when I was in bed, or the one I woke up to.

I quit trying to fall asleep for fear who would torment me in my dreams, but the echoes of the past haunted me awake. Even when awake, the nightmares tormented me.

The faces of my family, of my mother, of my friends would stare at me accusingly from my peripherals and when they didn't, I would hear the agony in the werewolf's voice when Klaus had rammed his hand in her chest. And even when I didn't worry about that, I would dread what would happen next. No matter, what I would do, I wouldn't be able to have a normal life anymore. Because it was all good and well that I somehow survived, it was only a matter of time until the next immortal being would stroll by, or, more likely, Klaus would roll into to town.

Grayson diagnosed my condition as Post-traumatic Stress Disorder* and had me in psychological treatment, on antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication before the week was out. He was reluctant in prescribing me sleep medication, but after the fifth night being awoken by my screaming, I had to add a third bottle of pills on my nightstand.

My therapist urged me to document my fears and encouraged me to write down the more positive points of my days. I realized she knew of the supernatural. Why else wouldn't she try to have me institutionalized when I started talking about vampires? Or perhaps I was the field day in her psychological park? Either way, I was to meet Dr. Elizabeth Freeman once a week and so far she had yet to judge me. Only time could tell if it would help me in the long run, I supposed.

It helped little to calm my frazzled nerves and outside Christmas lights sprung up around the lanterns. When the end of December arrived, the driveway was clogged with snow and the sky was cloudless. The streets were empty, deserted, people cluttered inside their homes away from the cold and had bundled out into two sweaters, stepping inside the kitchen.

I'd just taken out the loaf of bread from one of the cabinets, busying myself with making a sandwich when Miranda came down he stairs. Her soft footfalls were easily recognizable and for a moment I waited for Grayson's footsteps to follow. They didn't.

"Elena?"

"Morning mum," I greeted, not turning to her once she stepped inside the kitchen.

"You're up early," she muttered.

I shrugged. Strangely the sleep medication might have provided me with dreamless sleep, it didn't keep me under after seven o'clock. Besides, staying in after the medication wore off was a really bad idea. I'd tried, only to be awoken a few hours later, my brain muddled with panic and breath quivering. Wetting my lips, I met her stare. "I was hungry."

"How are you feeling, Hun?"

"I'm okay—" I started, but then shook my head, "—no, I'm not, but I will be all right."

Miranda looked thoughtful for a moment and I leant back against the kitchen counter. "You're taking your medication?" She asked after a long moment of silence.

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. "Yes. Where is dad?"

"In his office."

"Again?" I muttered and frowned. "What is he doing there?"

"Research sweetie."

"Even on his off day?" I snorted. "Well, goodbye to being a doctor then."

"I thought you wanted to be a writer?" Miranda said and I shrugged.

"Perhaps, I still want to keep my options open though."

She sighed, catching my wrist before guiding me onto a stool. She sat down in front of me cradling a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. I expected her to say something, but for a long moment, she seemed perfectly content staring at me.

It unnerved me.

I tapped my thumb against my lower lip. It was a nervous habit I wasn't aware of most of the time, but with Miranda tracing the motion persistently, I felt my thumb freeze. Miranda's face curled into a suspicious expression. I forcefully pressed my hands against the table top, cocking my head. "What's wrong?"

"I could ask you that, Elena," she muttered and I frowned.

"I don't understand?"

"You have been acting so strangely lately." She said and I inhaled deeply.

I had expected to be horrified when she finally started to mistrust me as her daughter. I had thought I would descend into some kind of panic attack, but now— with Miranda frowning at my face— I was less startled by the revelation than I should have been. "It's been an eventful few months." I rolled my shoulders. "I am stressed. I'm sure it will get better."

"No, you've been acting odd, even before that—"

"I have?"

"Distanced," she accused softly and my mind roiled with ideas.

What was I supposed to say now? It hit me suddenly and I stared her straight in the eyes. "Am I adopted?" I challenged in a near-whisper and her face leeched of color.

"What?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. It was such an easy way to dissuade her suspicions— it would explain my reserve towards both parents. After all, the Elena Gilbert I knew was 'big on trust' and I tried to mimic her furious-hurt expression as best as I could. "Am I adopted, Mom?"

"Why would you?"

"Basic biology, besides, I know I am. I confronted Uncle John too, and he asked if you told me that." I said, feeling slightly bad for throwing Uncle John under the bus, but I'd rather deal with Elena's biological father who didn't really know her all that well than with the adoptive parents who knew Elena Gilbert like an open book.

"John—" she started and her face gained and lost colors so rapidly, I worried she would faint. With her expressions changing so quickly, I found it hard to gauge what she felt, although I recognized the planning-to-murder-someone expression quite well, when her face settled on that. I didn't speak, only hoped she would get through her whirling emotions soon and pressed my lips together. The sudden silence was oppressive I forced myself not to tap my lower lip again.

It took a good minute before she straightened her spine. Her smile was still strained and her knuckles had turned white around her cup, but she didn't look quite as murderous anymore. "I suppose I should have expected you to figure it out at some point."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We were going to when you'd turn eighteen," Miranda explained and I puckered my lips.

"A moot point now," I muttered and averted my eyes.

"So it seems," Miranda said and took a forced sip of her tea. I could tell it scalded her tongue.

I felt somewhat dizzy. "Listen, I— I am sorry to spring this on you like this. I know you never saw me as anything but your daughter, but— it shook me. And then all this vampire shit happened and— I just, I'm stressed. I'm scared. Of course, that changes a person."

Miranda looked somewhat ashamed and she tapped her fingers against the ear of the cup. "We can talk about this some more?"

"No," I shook my head. "No, it's fine. I'm already stressed enough as it is. Can I take a rain check on this"?

"All right," she smiled again.

"So— dad's research? What is it about?"

"Cellular regeneration," Miranda breathed out and the awkward atmosphere lets up, even if only slightly.

"Interesting." I said. I didn't know how to ask her about the vampire factor in all of it.

She didn't expand.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-Five, Into the Woods

The weather was not warm, but at least the rain had stopped even if it was dewy. The floodwaters had receded and the roads were semi-passable. Large tree branches and even whole trees that had fallen across the asphalt roads kept Mystic Falls secluded from the rest of Virginia and the remnants of puddles oiled the streets. The wind whipped up and down most violently and I held on to my hair with white fingers. Caroline stalked out in front of me, eyes thin slits and mouth a tight, pale line.

"Come on, Elena," she snapped, "we don't want to be late."

"It's only a party."

"Well," she sniffed, "since you decided to try on living a bit again, I don't see why we should wait."

"Caroline—"

"You tried making a deal with Klaus. Who knows what you'll do next."

"Well, it's a good thing I did too. If I hadn't managed that, I would be very much dead by now."

She sniffed but didn't say anything.

Another gust of wind stirred my hair and my lips puckered with frustration as we stepped inside the Grill, nodding at a foul looking doorman. It was, unsurprisingly, packed inside. Hired for the birthday of one of the Seniors, alcohol was freely poured and attracted almost every high school student that could manage to dodge the doorman. Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I hung my jacket on the back of one of the chairs. Several teenagers excitedly made their way over and Caroline latched onto the attention like an attention-starved cockatoo, flaunting its feathers. It was somewhat amusing.

I ignored the proffered red plastic cup sloshing lukewarm beer around and tucked a long lock of straight hair behind my ear. Distant laughter floated through the air like a soft breeze and I migrated slowly towards the bar. At least this scenery seemed more familiar and for once I didn't feel like a fish out of the water. Several girls, already quite drunk, were all crowded around the bar and a small smile tugged at my lips. For the first time in the past few days since I'd resumed Elena's normal rhythm, I felt my shoulders relax. This was much like a student party and I leaned my elbows heavily on the sticky bar top, waving at a very red-faced waiter whose name I probably should have known, but didn't.

Ordering myself a Tequila — it would be the only drink I was having tonight — I settled at the back corner of the Grill, propping my feet up on the free chair adjacent to me and sighed. I was perfectly content watching the teenagers move around me.

I had no idea which Senior I should have to congratulate, but she or he sure was popular and had a lot of friends. A lot of bizarre and unexpected friends, to be honest. Many of whom were already roaring drunk when I finally finished my Tequila and switched to Pepsi.

"Elena," Matt Donovan greeted and settled in front of me.

I managed to move my feet away just in time before he flopped into the booth. "Hello, Matt."

"Enjoying the party?"

"It's fine, I guess," I said. "Glad my parents aren't here."

"Yeah, remember when you got so drunk?"

I frowned. I thought I vaguely did from the show and wetted my lips. "I slipped and needed stitches before my dad grounded me?" I said and tapped my fingers nervously against the table. "Wasn't allowed to see you for a week?"

"Exactly," he laughed, "how unbelievable that your parents had to sit in the booth right behind us."

"How unbelievable that I thought faking a choking fit was a good way to keep my father away."

"Good point," he agreed and his smile broadened. "Does Caroline stay over with you?"

I nodded. I was quite sure she was supposed to be my guard this upcoming weekend and followed his gaze. Caroline was at the bar, already increasingly tipsy, borderline indecent and swaying before the barman. I recognized the twirl of her hair, the flirty smile on her lips, she was trying to get him to give her more alcohol and I snorted. "Wonderful, she's already drunk."

"I'm surprised you're not." He told me seriously. "You always said you liked a good time."

"Yeah," I shrugged, "someone needs to make sure we get home save."

Matt sniggered, leaning his elbows on the tabletop. "I could get you a beer?"

I smiled, about to decline before, nodding gratefully. This was my day off, wasn't it? I was allowed to enjoy myself once in a while. "Perhaps a beer would be nice."

He grinned again and I smiled back. Talking to Matt, who still had no idea about the Supernatural world, was like a breath of fresh air and made me feel more alive than I had in a long while. My smile felt much more genuine when Matt returned with a red plastic cup and a beer. I accepted both gratefully and poured some in the cup. "So— you and Caroline?"

"Ugh, not you too!" He huffed, cheeks flushing.

I laughed boisterously. "What? You two are cute together."

"Elena— please don't make this weird."

"But Matt, we're friends. It is my duty to make things weird."

That got a laugh out of him and he shook his head. "We're just taking it slow, all right?"

"Sure," I shrugged and brought my beer up for a small sip.

It was sudden. The beer sloshed out of the red plastic cup and pain prickled through my skull. I bumped against the table and one hand went to my temple. One moment, I was sitting in a booth of the Grill, the next, I stood in my parents' entrance hall. It was sunny and a damp mid-afternoon breeze ruffled my hair. There was someone at the door, I could make out his shape, his shadow, through the stained glass that sat in the cater of the front door. I recognized my previous boyfriend. I recognized Adam and I was already reaching out to grab the doorknob. My movements were sluggish, slow but I recognized my hand. MY HAND.

With the cluster of freckles to one side and the bracelet, I'd gotten for my tenth birthday and refused to part with. The door clicked open and I catalogued his broad shoulders, his easy smile and his dirty blond hair and I grinned. And then I realized I had opened my mouth and was speaking.

"Adam, I didn't know you would stop by—"

And I knew I wasn't in charge. Now that I thought about it, I could feel something, someone, pressing against me. This might have been my body. It was not under my control. Adam stepped forward, unaware of me being locked up in my body like Melanie had been in the Host, and he kissed me. Passionately, if I may add.

My body responded — or Elena responded — and my hands curled around the neckline of his shirt. When he pulled back his expression was smug. I couldn't understand. We had decided we were better off as friends. He even had started dating this new girl and I had been okay with it. What the fuck?

"I just wanted to see my girlfriend." He said and I seethed.

"Well, your girlfriend is delighted to see you," Elena grinned, I felt the bubbly happiness cramp my stomach muscles. "Come in—"

She stepped aside and I realized something. While I might have been keeping to a rather celibate life, Elena hadn't. Had even started dating my ex-boyfriend and— How fucked up was that? Did she know we couldn't switch back? Did she know I was there right now? Perhaps I could—

Adam moved further inside and his eyes were drawn to the large family portrait on the wall. It had been taken during my senior year in high school and I was smiling. My mom was beside me and we both looked happy. I remembered I had been happy that day. Adam's expression darkened a bit. "You know, I really can't get over the fact that you look like her but— aren't."

"I'm sorry," she said. She didn't sound sorry.

"No, it's— you, I get it. And although you have her face, you're just nothing like her, but—" Adam said, shrugging his jacket off and hung it on the clothes rack by the door.

"It's weird." She finished.

"Yeah."

Elena's lips twisted into a sour smile. "Do you miss her?"

"Yes," he admitted and my struggle to gain the upper hand ceased, "but I love you and she's happy right?"

"I love you too," she whispered and I felt as if I'd been slapped. "And she is adapting. I mean I know she is. It's been so long—"

So long? It hadn't been long. It had been a few months. Fucking months, and Elena Fucking Gilbert dared to pretend this whole ordeal was somewhat normal and had happened a long time ago? I wanted to throttle her— I wanted to—

And then the sunny afternoon light was gone and I was in the bar again, head cradled in my hands. A police officer was standing next to me, syringe held between trembling fingers. My lips were dry and my hands were shaking, but— as I held out Elena's arms— I was fine. Back in Elena's body and probably crying but fine. It took a moment for me to compose myself and I met the man's eyes warily.

"What are you doing?"

"The Vervain didn't work," He mumbled and I watched as his left hand twitched over the handle of his gun. It didn't click immediately. Why the fuck would he think I was a vampire? But then Matt had clambered over the table, the menu holder and card clattering on the floor. His hands fisted around the man's collar, shaking him and I was forcefully reminded that this goofy, blond boy was still an athlete at heart.

"What the hell, man, what was that?"

"It's okay Matt," I mumbled and scrambled to my feet. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, miraculously, you are," he snapped and gave the police officer a shake, "not thanks to him."

"What happened?" I asked dumbly.

"Oh my God you're Grayson Gilbert's daughter," he stammered and I wondered if hitting him would be acceptable. If that would be something Grayson Gilbert's daughter would do. My chin quivered from the strain and I swallowed.

"Yes, I am. Why is that important? What's going on?"

"They're rounding up people," Matt supplied softly, letting go of the man and stepped closer to me.

"Rounding up people," I echoed and suddenly it hit me. It hit me so hard, my breath was knocked out of my lungs and my blood froze in my veins. Of course, I realized. The device. The Gilbert device, wielded by people who wanted to avenge the deaths of all of those towns' people.

Grayson Gilbert who talked about killing vampires out of some twisted idea of justice in mind would definitely use a device like that. My mouth went dry and my eyes went wide, flitting around the room. That same device could take down Caroline.

I pushed past the police officer and pushed my way past the horrified looking students. How did they ever convince people rounding seemingly normal humans up and injecting them with some kind of poison, was a normal thing to do? Elena's betrayal, although still a fresh welcome pain in the back of my mind, had taken a backseat for the moment and I bit down on the inside of my mouth.

"Caroline!" I yelled, my voice barely even audible above the thumping bass. "Care!?"

A hand shot out and curled around my arm, yanking me back. The police officer from before stared back at me. Greenish eyes wide and face a waxy white.

"What do you want now?" I snapped annoyed. "I am not a vampire."

"No, but Gilbert, is Caroline a—"

I cut him off again. "No, we came together. I want to know where she is." And managed to wrench my arm out of his grip. He yelled after me, but I wasn't listening anymore. I was already hurrying away. I almost screamed in happiness when I recognized Dana pressed against the wall.

"Dana!"

"Elena— Hi!" She gasped, sounding quite winded. "Have you heard? A nearby prison break—"

My mouth opened in understanding. So that was the story they were going with. I straightened my spine and somehow Dana stopped talking. Perhaps it was the authoritative expression I'd morphed my face into. It was a look people I'd previously associated with knew well. It was the expression I used whenever I lectured my best friend and now, it was the expression that made Dana clap her mouth shut.

"Dana, have you seen Caroline?"

"Yes," she mumbled, "yes, she went into the bathroom, I, is something—"

"No, no, everything is fine, I just want to check up on her," I whispered and moved towards the bathroom. I brushed past some boy I didn't bother to recognize on my way through the door and quickly crossed the hallway, stumbling into the dim-lit toilet. And then I faltered. What if I was too late? What if Caroline had already left and fainted in the middle of the dance floor? Dana did not necessarily have to see it with all those people and—

The stall door creaked open and a peep-toe heel peeked out from within. I recognized it immediately and I stumbled forward. The relief I felt was so abrupt. So strong, it almost made my knees buckle and I plonked down before her. The stall door clattered noisily against the tiled wall and I gripped her shoulders fiercely. Caroline Forbes peered up at me from her coiled position, cheeks wet and pale. I gasped. "Caroline?"

"It hurts," she whimpered, blonde locks of hair curled around shaking fingers. "It hurts so bad!"

"You have to try and pretend it doesn't," I whispered urgently.

"I can't!" She whined and her guttural gasps became louder.

A glacier chill travelled down my spine. I remembered Anna Zhu to be in quite the same position when the Gilberts' device was used. At some point, an officer would stalk inside and I tried to think of what to do. Caroline was still gasping, biting her lip so hard she drew blood and I wrung the straps of my handbag between my fingers. The handbag with the anti-anxiety medication and the pain killers medication— and, fuck I'd also bought my sleep medication for the off chance we would be staying over at Caroline's house and dug through the bag so haphazardly half of its contents rolled onto the ground.

"What the—"

I turned quickly towards the door, staring up at Matt Donovan's shocked, chalk-white face. He was holding on to the door jamb, fingers going white and I shook my head.

"I can't— not now!" I whispered urgently.

"What is wrong with her?" Matt demanded taking a step closer to his shaking girlfriend.

I shook my head. "I'll tell you. Just not now. Listen, we need to get her out of here."

"What are those?" He asked with an edge of uncertainty to his voice as I popped the pills.

"Sleep medication," I muttered and turned to Caroline. She was looking at me again. "Three of those make you high— amongst other things. It won't stop the pain, but I think it will make you woozy enough to get you out of here." I explained and with her teeth clenched she snatched them out of my hands, swallowing them all in one.

"I don't get—"

"Matt, get her to my car. Pretend she's drunk." I ordered.

Matt was leaning against the open bathroom door with wide eyes and his arms hanging uselessly to his sides. "What's going on with her?" He asked and I bit my lip.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course, I do."

"Than trust me to do what's best for her," I said just as Caroline flopped forward. God, shit worked fast on vampires. Matt moved closer, scooping Caroline up in one go and she blubbered incoherently. I realized she was moaning almost inaudible. I hoped it sounded like drunken babbling instead and we moved out of the bathroom. Thankfully, there was no one in the hallway, the wooden floor creaking beneath our feet. The central part, however, was still crowded, although less crowded than before.

"I don't see officer Dewy anywhere," I remarked dryly and Matt gave me a non-plussed expression.

"You knew the guy that tried to inject you?"

"No, it's a reference to— never mind, come on, hurry up." I started leading him to the exit.

We had almost made it when the officer from before appeared, backing me into the door. I hit it with a jarring thud, eyes wide and Matt froze. He was breathing heavily and I wondered, almost absentmindedly, if he'd called me in through his portable phone.

"Elena Gilbert—"

"I'm not a vampire," I snapped, "I didn't go down because of some mystical device— yeah I'm a Gilbert, I know about it."

"Vampires—" Matt echoed and Caroline smacked her lips, pupils blown. God the stuff was strong.

The officer, looking incredibly horrified and out of his depth, let his eyes flit between me and then to Caroline. "What's wrong with her?"

"Drunk— as I told you before, we came here together and I am getting her home."

"No, I—"

"You could call Sheriff Forbes? This is her daughter." I snapped and slapped at his hand. "Get off!"

"I,"

"By all means, shove that syringe in my arm," I hissed, deciding to take a gamble. Deciding to call the man bluff. "It's not like I can't prove I'm not a vampire. Well, go on."

"Elena," Matt started, hoisting Caroline up in his arms, her head lolled on his shoulder, "What—"

"Not now, Matt," I snapped, not breaking eye contact with the officer in front of me and finally he stepped back, letting go of my shoulder. "Right, go."

I fumbled for the doorknob, throwing the door open. Matt moved through it first and it wasn't until he'd taken several steps out of the door, that I followed after him. I knew it was an enormous leap of fate, letting Matt in on the vampire secret, but right now he had not lost anyone he cared for to them either. A rash decision, but I hoped he would love Caroline enough to help. Would care for Elena Gilbert enough to want to help her.

I struggled to find my car keys, almost crying out in relief when my fingers curled around the familiar monkey keychain and I quickly unlocked the door. Matt settled Caroline in the backseat of the car, closing the door with a thud. His eyes were troubled when he met my gaze.

"I don't understand, Elena," he explained, wringing his hands together.

"I'll tell you," I promised, "just, please not now. Just go straight home, fuck your shift. Go home."

"I— Elena, vampires, what the fuck is going on?"

"I'll tell you, I will, tomorrow, but please Matt! I have to get her out of here."

Matt's expression looked lost for one more moment and then he seemed to steel himself, nodding. "Okay."

I flashed him a smile, swiftly getting behind the wheel and I started the engine. It roared to life and I quickly steered the car out of the parking lot.

When we pulled into Maple Street ten minutes later, the sight of the Gilbert house made my breath escape me in a long hushed exhale. Thank God, we'd made it. Caroline lay bonelessly in the back seat, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead and I changed gears, turning the car onto the driveway. Miranda and Grayson must have been out, their usual parking space empty of the silver Volvo and I blew a lock of hair out of my face.

"Care, do you think you can walk?"

"It burns," she whispered.

"I know," I admitted, "but we're here."

"Thank God," she gasped and then blacked out.

I wasn't sure how exactly I'd managed to get Caroline inside the house, much less up the stairs, but I was seriously thankful it was deadly silent. When we reached my bedroom, I tucked her in as if she were a child, and gently brushed her curly hair out of her face. She looked peaceful now.

"You keep me on my toes," I mumbled and Caroline's eyes shot open, they weren't bleary anymore.

"I'm okay now, though." She whispered.

"They turned off the device?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "They did a little while ago. The sleep meds though? They're really good."

I smiled half-heartily. "I know. I'm glad you're okay."

"What happened with you?" Caroline forced out, blinking against the drowsiness. "I saw you go all rigid and staring unseeingly. It was almost like—" she tried, swallowing, eyes tearing up, "—almost like you had a vision like Bonnie."

I wetted my lips. I hadn't thought about Bonnie for a while and felt a stab of guilt tear through my stomach. I averted my eyes, frowning. "I don't know. It was a lot like a different future." I met her gaze again. "It doesn't matter anymore. The things I saw, they're no longer available to me anyway."

"Oh—" Caroline's eyes shut closed and her mouth went slack, "—that sucks."

"Yeah," I agreed, although Caroline seemed already asleep, "that it does. But, it's also a closure."

My timeline was gone, but I had a new one to contend with. It was time for me to accept that.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

The morning dawned overcast, the clouds heavy with what could be snow if the temperature dropped just a few more degrees and I slowly rolled on my stomach. The pale morning light poured in through the open blinds, and dust motes floated in the bars of gentle morning light. I rubbed my eyes and I pushed myself up to my knees. Dragging myself out of the bed, I stumbled into the adjoined bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror. My hair was an absolute mess and my eyes were red-rimmed, glassy. I looked tired. My skin was pale, so pale even I thought I looked somewhat sickly and my lips were dry, the skin almost looking as if it was shedding. The fluorescent stained my forehead and cheeks an ugly shade of yellow and I swallowed.

God, what a night!

I heaved a sigh and fashioned my hair into a ponytail. Grayson and Miranda still had to come home and I smoothed a hand down the front of my sweater. Caroline was still asleep, sprawled out on my bed in a tangled mess of limbs and comforter. I left her there, fast asleep and yanking on a pair of skinny jeans and a long vest, stepped out of my room. The wood paneled floor beneath my bare feet was chilly and the corridor dim lit. I started towards the stairs, when I noticed Grayson's office door standing ajar.

I'd only been in there once, on my search for Vervain all those months ago and my eyebrows furrowed together. What had the man been doing there all this time? I ventured inside, not sure what I hoped to see or find and crossed the carpeted floor to the large, dark desk. It was a mess, littered with all kind of papers and I cocked my head to the side. Grayson always seemed so neat. Even with cooking — which seemed like an art that needed messiness — he kept everything well arranged. Ready to go and be returned to its spot when he was finished with it. That was not what the desk looked like.

I doubted a wild rhino would make more of a mess and leant against the office chair thumbing through the papers. I couldn't make much out of it. Some where part of his research I supposed, columns with data and such, while others entailed difficult mathematic-like problems. They meant little to me. Then raw data rarely meant anything to people not involved into the research. I reached for another paper when Caroline's phone rung piercingly through the house.

By now the sun was low in the sky and as I leant back on the balls of my feet, peering down the hallway and at my room, I noticed her shadow grow over the wooden floor. She was probably looking for the phone now and I brought my gaze back to the desk again. Picking my way through a stack of papers, I found nothing. I reached for another stack when a creaking noise came from the landing. I swirled around just as Caroline stumbled inside.

"Elena?" Caroline's voice shook as she dropped her cell phone on the ground and I shot to my feet.

"What's wrong?"

She gasped, her shoulders shaking. "That was my mom—"

"Okay?"

"Tyler crashed his car," she hiccuped and I blinked owlishly.

"I don't—" I shook my head, "—is he okay?"

"No— yes, but he killed Vickie Donovan. He lost control of his car. I think it was that device you talked about and he— oh my God, he crashed his car into the gate of the cemetery. Vickie was there and she— she's dead. And Matt, oh my God, poor Matt."

"Tyler killed Vickie?" I echoed horrified.

"Yes—" she nodded, tears were gathering on her eyelashes, "—and Matt's in the hospital."

"He was hurt too?"

"I think he was coming to get his sister and— we have to go. We have to go see them, 'Lena!"

"Of course," I agreed, hurrying out of Grayson's office, "Yes, of course, we have to get dressed."

In a flash, Caroline was gone and I hurried back to my room. The blonde vampire was already dressing herself, hopping onto her right leg as she yanked the other through the leg of her pants. I busied myself with finding something decent to wear as well, opting for dark pants and warm winter boots combined with a turtleneck.

"I can compel one of the nurses and—"

"Or I can ask my dad?" I responded with a grimace. "He's on duty."

And he was still not on speaking terms with me. Not really, but I was sure he would be willing to let that slide when one of Elena's friends was hurt. "Fuck, and just when Matt learned about the supernatural!"

"Yes, I know," Caroline nodded, giving up on the zipper of her dress after the fourth try and simply shrugged on her guardian, hiding the probably broken zipper beneath a layer of cotton. "He must be devastated. Vickie is practically the only family member he still had. Can't really count that mother of his and there is no father— and—"

"No, that's not what I meant, I low-key told Matt about vampires and—"

"You did what?" She screeched and I winced.

"I had to." I defended. "People were going down and the police was around dragging them away."

She swallowed. "How did he take it?"

"I don't know. I promised to explain it to him on a later moment." I tried. "I thought it went well enough but— I don't know. How well did you take it that we are living in a world filled with witches and vampires? I mean, I didn't take it all that well."

"No," she admitted. "Will Vickie be there? At the hospital, I mean."

"Probably, I don't know any other morgue." I answered bluntly.

She nodded, holding out my coat. "Come on, Elena."

I always despised Hospitals. The antiseptic scent, the cold white walls or the bland paintings all around me. Caroline and I had settled on the squeaky plastic chairs in the corridor of the emergency wing. Grayson was on duty, I'd seen him pass by several times, but he had yet to notice me. Caroline seemed nervous, leg bouncing erratically. Outside winter had once more taken over and hailstones pounded against the windows.

"Do you think Tyler is—"

"He's fine," I said, swallowing the rest of my reply down. I shouldn't know about werewolves yet.

"What if he isn't?" She countered. "What if—"

"Care, you'll drive yourself insane like this." I cut in. "He's going to be fine. Or fine-ish, I suppose."

She nodded, nibbling on her upper lip. I thought about Matt again. About how upset he was when he'd lost Vickie in the original timeline. I remembered how bad he'd taken Caroline's vampirism, but that was after Vickie had been attacked and killed by a vampire. That wasn't the case right now, but I still didn't think he would be all that willing to have a less platonic relationship with Caroline.

"I'm going to compel—" Caroline sudden started, pulling herself up to her feet, just as Grayson turned the corner. I hit Caroline on her upper arm, hard enough to make her wince and got to my feet as well. The floor squeaked noisily and Grayson's eyes widened when he noticed me. His doctor's coat was slightly askew, the first few buttons on his shirt wrongly buttoned and his hair was a mess. He looked like he'd done an all nighter and I tried to smile.

"Elena?"

"Hi, dad," I whispered, meeting Grayson's eyes with a tight smile.

His gaze was steady and penetrating and he curled his fingers tighter around his clipboard, "What are you doing here? You should be home, I—"

"The accident Tyler was in," I answered bluntly, "we're here to come and check on him. And Matt."

Grayson's chin fell to his chest as he sighed in exasperation. "Of course, you are."

"Please, Mister Gilbert," Caroline whined and Grayson shot her a condescending glare.

"Caroline, I'm a doctor, I'm not allowed to disclose personal information."

"Dad!" I huffed and Grayson hesitated. "Please. We are worried. He's our friend."

The man wetted his lips and sighed. "Fine, Tyler will be fine. A pair of minor injuries, he'll be out tonight."

"And Matt? What about Vickie?"

"You know already." He retorted. "Matt is fine physically. Victoria is not. She died upon impact."

"With the car," I finished for him and he nodded.

"Yes," he agreed, "she didn't suffer."

Caroline nodded, somehow processing this bit of information far quicker than I did and was already voicing out her next question. However, there was only one question I wanted answers to. "What did you do with him? Tyler I mean."

"I beg you pardon?"

"I know what happened yesterday, dad." I answered. "My doppelgänger physiology was affected as well." I continued, thinking the doppelgänger being affected wouldn't be that much of a stretch. "Not the way some— people were affected, but still. What happened with Tyler after the crashed his car? You know he's not—" I glanced at Caroline who had the decency to look clueless, "—like all those people who went down last night."

"I'm sure, I don't know what you're talking about, Elena."

I pursed my lips in irritation. "Fine, then I'll ask someone else."

"Caroline," Grayson grounded out, the vein in his forehead throbbing erratically, "Can you give us some privacy please?"

"Yeah, sure, see you later, Elena?" She responded insecurely and I—

I chewed onto the inside of my mouth until I tasted metal, and gnashed my teeth together. Forcing a small, tight smile to my lips, I waved her off. Grayson turned on his heel and with nothing else to do, I followed him outside onto the employees parking lot. His shoulders bunching up beneath his white coat and the tendons in his neck tensely pulsing beneath the slightly weathered skin. He turned to me slowly.

"Why do you insist on acting this way?"

"What way?" I retorted. "Suspicious? Irritated that you generalize all supernatural? Take your pick."

"They're monsters."

"I'm sure they are, but, you act like a basic human being."

"A basic human being?" He snarked back and I inhaled deeply.

"Killing things you don't understand. It's probably the most basic form of human nature."

Grayson snorted and began to pace around the parking lot. "Killing things— yes, indeed, killing things. Elena, you've seen what those monsters will do. You've seen it firsthand. How many innocents should be sacrificed before you understand?"

"They eat people," I decided and frowned. "They eat people the way we eat animals. To me, your problem with them seems to stem out of not being the top predator anymore."

I'd chosen my words carefully. Coated them in enough hostility to force a reaction out of him. Just one. Just to see what he knew about Tyler. Tyler who was just a boy and didn't have a choice being born with a curse in his blood. Tyler who would probably be burned alive just as the vampires— I hadn't heard anything about a fire over the news when we'd driven to the hospital, nor had Caroline learned of such from her mother, but what else could they have done with them?

I frowned. "What did you do to those vampires?"

"What did I do?"

"I know you must have caught a hefty number," I tried, rolling my fingers over my shoulder.

"They kill, maim and torture indiscriminately and for fun." Grayson hissed and I reared my head up.

"Not all of them do!" I snapped. "Some try to be good people. Why can't you see that?"

Grayson let out a hollow laugh. "God, you sound so naive right now."

"I'd rather be naive, than a hypocritical murderer." I growled back.

For a moment Grayson looked as if struck and I felt bad. A second later the moment was gone and Grayson pursed his lips in irritation, in anger. I felt somewhat dizzy with nerves. The hem of my coat bunched up between my fingers.

"I shouldn't expect you to understand."

"Right, because I am naive." I lifted my chin and crossed my arms over my chest. "Where's Tyler?"

"With his parents. Carol wanted him home" Grayson returned stiffly.

My lip curled and I pressed my nails into my lower arms. "And now?"

"He is like that Original, isn't he? Not a vampire, no something else entirely."

"I'm sure I don't understand what you mean," I returned, my voice clear, cool, "he's no vampire."

"No, but he's a werewolf isn't he?" He responded, his expression shifted into something cold and calculating. "Just as Klaus is. A beast bound to the moon."

"And he can't help that, even if he is," I grounded out.

"No," Grayson agreed and reached for my cheek, drawing his thumb along its arc, "honestly, Elena."

"What?"

"We used to be so good together," his hand dropped to his side and I took a step back.

"I just can't condone murder." I whispered. "Not the way some vampires murder and destroy, but neither can I condone you taking so many lives. You playing judge, jury and executioner."

"You will come around," he whispered wearily, shaking his head, "I've been in this fight for years."

"No," I denied and ambulated back towards the backdoor, my back hitting the doorframe. The wood was damp against the back of my hand. "No, I won't be okay with people killing others." Shouldering the door open, I shook my head. "I won't be okay with it. I won't be like that." And I wouldn't. Elena Gilbert let go of her humanity, stopped caring about nameless and faceless people, but I— I wouldn't. And I couldn't condemn a whole race either. I was barely even aware of where I was going until I'd almost bumped into the SUV. I thought about Caroline, who wasn't a monster and who they would have killed without a second thought and about Anna Zhu, who might have been lost and not above hurting others, but who had in the end only wanted to get her mother back. She hadn't been like Damon, killing because of the fun of it. And even Damon, who was locked up in the tomb with Katherine— I shook my head.

And Tyler— Thinking about Tyler— only made my headache worse.

Because I understood. I understood how he must have felt. Elena's blood coursing through my veins was what damned me as the Doppelgänger just as Tyler's werewolf gene damned him. I could imagine the shock and the surprise of finding out you had no control over your faith.

The SUV roared to live and I pulled out of the parking lot. Right now, I had no idea what to do. I couldn't very well stalk into Lockwood manor. My hands tightened around the steering wheel. Well, I suppose I could. Elena was his friend, wasn't she? But, I didn't think they were that close.

I bit my lip.

I should probably check up on Stefan too, shouldn't I? And what about Zack? Was he even still alive? Or the Martin siblings? Jesus Christ, how many people had I been forgetting about?

I could check up on Luka Martin at school. With them working with Elijah and Stefan before I'd been taken, they should have been fine. Which left Zach and Stefan. I didn't even have to go to Salvatore manor either.

"God, am I obvious or what?" I muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly as I accelerated.

I parked the car at the side of the road and whipped out my cellphone.

As it turned out both Stefan and Zachariah Salvatore were fine. Zach had been set free, much like Alaric, once Klaus was done with him and Stefan hadn't gone out that night. I'd got the impression he was keeping things from me (unsurprisingly as I was now the traumatized teenage girl who just happened to wear the face of his former flame), but with the mental list I had to work through, I let it slip. Tyler was next. He had not been in a place where he wanted to talk to me, and in the end, I'd steered the car to Matt.

Matt who was chalk-white and crying. When the door opened, he all but threw himself at me, hugging me so tightly, my breath was wrenched from my body. I felt his shoulders shake and I tried to swallow. I understood. I'd remembered how devastated I'd felt when my father had died. My real father. The same man that was alive in this reality and whose face I'd stared at countless times when I couldn't sleep. I hugged him just as fiercely.

"I'm so sorry!"

"She's dead, Elena! Vic's death! She's—"

"I'm so sorry," I whispered again and bit my lip until it bled.

He led me to the living room and we sank into the soft, faded cushions of the couch. Perhaps breaking the news of the supernatural to him, was a bad thing to do. Matt seemed happy dating Caroline, content even and I had no idea how he would react now. I suspected his initial reaction would be anger at the werewolf who'd accidentally been responsible for his sister's death. He would be terrified of Caroline who couldn't help her vampirism either— but, he deserved to know. I felt I owed him that. If he knew, he could protect himself.

It took him several minutes to gather his wits enough to lean back, hands curled around his knees. "Why did you come here?"

"Matt, you're sister just— I wanted to support you."

"Are you one too?"

"What?"

"A vampire," he whispered and I watched him inch away, "I—"

"No."

"But you know about them— those supernatural things?"

I nodded and his shoulders relaxed. I bit my lip. "That's what I came here for, to tell you about everything. About vampires, witches— werewolves. Or I wanted to, but I suppose this isn't the right time. Oh for fuck's sake, I'm so sorry Matt. You have enough on your plate with all of this. I can go. We can talk about this later and—"

"No!" He gasped and his hand shot out, fingers curling around my wrist. "No, please stay!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he whispered and tears swirled in his blue eyes, "I don't want to be alone right now."

I nodded. "Okay."

I told him about the supernatural the next day. Matt listened with rapt attention as I went over all that I knew, slowly eating a casserole Grayson had made. Matt listened as my words poured out of my mouth, listened as I tried and probably failed explaining and even rationalizing a world that could not be rationalized. I tried to elevate his anger at his werewolf friend who'd been responsible for his sister's early demise and even tried telling Matt vampirism didn't make Caroline a lesser person. And finally I told him about the Gilbert device.

"So it locates vampires when activated?"

I shook my head. "No, I think it hurts them. Which is what happened when those people went down. I don't know where it is though."

I wondered if this was when Elena Gilbert strayed from her path of light as well. Just like that, the defining moment when you stopped knowing the difference between right and wrong. The difference between good and bad. The moment where she chose vampires over humans. I bit my lower lip. I didn't want to choose a different race over my own, but I also couldn't sit back and allow some hypocritical notion of superiority to hurt so many people. Stefan, although I didn't want to date him, deserved to have a life. As did Caroline.

"I have to find it." I told him and drew my fork over the rim of my plate. "It isn't right."

"You think they'll use it again?" Matt asked.

"I don't see why they wouldn't." I whispered.

Matt rolled his knife between, his fingers, his eyes lost. "I get that Caroline isn't evil and Tyler might not want to be a monster, but they're still dangerous, Elena. And what you told me about Damon Salvatore? Why would you want to take away the one weapon we have against him?"

I winced and shook my head. "We have other weapons." I retorted. "We have Vervain. If we'd put it in the water supply, all humans would be protected. No vampires killing people in this town anymore."

"You're being naive. Why should those monsters have a different measure stick?"

"Why would we be allowed to kill them because they're a different species?" I snapped back.

The tendons in Matt's neck tensed beneath his skin and I rolled my tongue along my teeth. "When a human accidentally kills someone else, they get what? A slap on the wrist? But when you're turned into a vampire, even if you haven't killed anyone yet, sure, let's kill him or her?" I snarked furiously. My words reminded me of the human rights speech I'd given when I hadn't been Elena Gilbert yet. I wanted to be there for the people who had no one in their corner. The people I thought wrongfully convicted (without a shred of evidence) or the people abused and/or suppressed. I gnashed my teeth together and inhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry," I grounded out, because involving Matt? What the fuck was I doing? "I shouldn't involve you in this. I just came here to tell you everything so you could take the precautionary measures and to see if you would give Caroline another chance. None of this is her fault and she loves you."

"Caroline killed Bonnie," Matt whispered and I shook my head.

"I guess you need some time to figure all of his out."

"Elena—"

I pushed the chair back, I'd been occupying and got to my feet. "It's fine, Matt, we don't have to agree on this. Just, don't bring Bonnie up around Caroline. It wasn't her fault. She was all alone during her transformation and had no idea what was going on." I rubbed my hands over my arms nudged a wayward lock of hair away from my cheek with my shoulder. "I really am sorry about Vicki, Matt. Still, I hope you'll won't stop talking to any of us. Because— you know I think it would be good if you spoke to Tyler— the device messing with his head? Not really his fault either."

Matt didn't stop me when I left, and didn't speak to me the following days when I left dinner at his doorstep. Jenna came to stay over and even Matt's mom — the one who'd gotten hot and heavy with both Damon and Tyler in the show — showed up on the day of the funeral.

It was the second funeral I attended since being stuck in Mystic Falls. The black dress I wore itched and the reverent at the front of the church spoke lovely words about the wild card that was Vicki Donovan. Jenna stood next to me, an arm tightly wound around my shoulders and even Stefan (who'd been out with Zack when the device was activated) had come to pay Vicki his last respect. Matt didn't say or react in any way on his, or Caroline's, presence and kept his head down. He took my hand for condolences outside with an impassive face and I clung to Jenna when Vicki's casket was lowered in the ground. There wasn't a headstone yet. I have no idea why that struck me as important, just that it did. I didn't pay much attention to the rest of the funeral and when Miranda led me and Jenna back to the car, my eyes were drawn to the Bennett family plot. Another innocent gone. Although Bonnie— Bonnie could come back.

My fingers spasmed and my eyes became wide. Bonnie actually had the ability to come back. I just had to figure out how.

Miranda drove us home, never commenting on my silence, and warmly conversed with Jenna. Jenna who had turned in her thesis and was now waiting on her mark. The last obstacle in the way of graduating. I smiled wanly. I missed university. I missed being legally capable to make decisions without needing someone signature. Besides, a lot of things would go much smoother when I wasn't underage anymore.

When the SUV pulled up in front of the Gilbert house, I almost collapsed on the couch. Grayson wasn't home— again but I was fine with that. I had enough to think about. Honestly, I had no idea where to start anymore. Closing my eyes, I pushed my face into a cushion and groaned.

Right—

I probably should start with the device. Keep Caroline and Tyler safe.

I probably should try and get Damon out too— For if he got out himself with a murderous Katherine at his side?

To be continued….

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-Seven, Road trip

Days turned into weeks and school started up again. The second week of January brought with it roiling clouds with thunder and rain. The freezing chill had abated somewhat, although it was still cold outside. I went outside bundled up in sweaters, a thick winter coat, and warm, sheep wool-lined boots. I'd taken the bus that morning, not trusting myself behind the wheel, and the engine came to a rolling stop in front of the school building.

The doors made a wet clucking sound when they whirred open and I slowly got off. It was drizzling, quickly plastering my hair against my cheeks and I let out a long sigh. Hiking my bag up my shoulder I stepped onto the sidewalk, drawing my tongue along my teeth.

It wasn't long before I was joined by Caroline Forbes. Face half hidden by a blue shawl, wrapped tightly around her neck and chin, she waggled her fingers at me.

"Elena, there you are."

"Here I am," I agreed, half-heartily, kicking my foot at a puddle.

Caroline tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and I assumed she smiled at me, eyes twinkling. "Honestly, I wanted to call you this morning. But, well my mom— Anyway, I've got news."

"Yeah," I mumbled, "me too. Still haven't found the Gilbert device. Don't even know if my dad or uncle John have it." Trying for a small, tight smile, I shrugged. "Am I useless or what?"

"It's okay," she shrugged, pulling her scarf away from her face, as we stepped inside the building.

"Is it?" I tutted, moving a damp lock of hair over my shoulder.

"Yeah, I overheard my mom this morning. The device only works once."

"What?" I said and Caroline grinned excitedly, but she never expanded on it. I clucked my tongue and crossed my arms over my chest. "Oh, come on. Spill, I know you want to."

"All right," she smiled, "yes, I want to. I heard mom talk to your uncle. Or I think it was your uncle, she ended the call with 'bastard'. Anyway, he told her the device would only work once."

"You're sure?"

"Vampire hearing, remember?" Caroline whispered, tapping her ear.

"Thank God!" I let go of a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Thank fucking God."

"Yeah, Stefan was glad about that too."

"You told Stefan before me?" I remarked and she had the decency to look ashamed.

"I saw him half an hour ago. You know what I'm like. I'm delicate."

I shook my head, pretending to be terribly disappointed but I knew my relief was giving me away. I shook my head, the motion oddly jerky, to clear my mind. Caroline linked our arms together and I tried for a small smile. "I still think we should find it."

"Agreed."

"And we should think of a way to get Damon out."

"Do we have to?" Caroline groaned and I sighed.

"I think we should," I said. "I mean, if only you could lord it over him that what he couldn't manage in over a century you managed in what a few months?"

A small smile graced her lips and she nodded. "I like that."

"Of course, you do."

Carding my fingers through my hair, I pursed my lips. Tyler passed me, eyes downcast and face an unhealthy grey color. I tried sending him a hopeful smile, but he never met my gaze and when he turned the corner, my chance was gone. It was probably better. I had no idea what to say to Tyler anyway.

I'd just started to relax, strolling into my first period's history classroom when I froze. Alaric Saltzman was sitting behind the teacher's desk, lounging in his chair as if he was supposed to be there. No one else seemed weirded out by him sitting there. Students stepped around me, filling into the classroom, and it took two elbows to my upper back for me to get moving again. The bell chimed at double-time and I slumped in a seat next to Caroline, frowning.

"We've got a new teacher?"

"Oh," Caroline nodded, "yes Alaric Saltzman. I forgot you wouldn't know. Mister Tanner got hit by a car walking his dog."

"He's dead?"

"No, of course, not." She replied. "I think he's paralyzed though."

"Oh, that— sucks?"

"At least he's not giving History anymore," Caroline drolly replied.

"That's an awful thing to say," I mumbled, although I'd somewhat thought the same.

Caroline shrugged, and with nothing else to do, I focuses on my notebook, beginning to draw into it. Alaric spoke in easy tones, the fifties passing the revue that day and I drew little flowers in the margin of the page. Without the device to look for, I suddenly had a lot more time to think of how to free Damon. Didn't he have a witch friend in Georgia? And finding a bar in Georgia with an owner who was a witch shouldn't be too hard. I almost snorted out loud. Because they didn't have hundredth bars apart from the one Damon's witch worked at. I rolled my fingers over my temples and bit my lip. I guess I could google her when class was out.

Ripping a page out of my notebook, I penned down my idea and flicked the scrap of paper at Caroline, who caught it deftly. She didn't look happy when she read it over, but after a moment, gave me a curt nod. I smiled tightly, barely hearing a word Alaric was saying, and started to count down the twenty minutes of the lesson we still had to go before the class was concluded.

When History was let out and I'd copied down the homework, Caroline and I quickly bypassed the other students and tore up the pair of stairs to the computer classroom. We passed a startled-looking Matt as we settled behind one in the back of the room, and I watched Caroline's face turn morose. Matt was still not talking to either of us, instead, when he deigned to look our way, the glare he gave us was full of disappointment and wishes he was anywhere else and it hit Caroline hard. And could I blame her? I knew how bad Caroline felt over Bonnie's death and I could only guess how hard it hit that he didn't even bother to talk to her, yet, instead, treated her with that hostile judgment, he seemed to reserve for anyone that didn't live by his idea or rules. Of course, I understood how much pain he was in.

Everyone would have understood that. However, I understood Caroline's reaction too and I squeezed her shoulder. Why again, was I trying to help Damon? He was pretty much responsible for both Caroline's turning and Bonnie's death. But— I could only imagine the kind of horrible things he would do once he got out of that tomb. Knowing him, he would probably murder half of the town and I sucked my fleshy lower lip between my teeth.

"Okay," Caroline mumbled, having mostly recovered, "So you want to Google a witch?"

"Well, I do doubt we will manage to get the help of the Martin witches, don't you?"

"Yeah, they fled the second Elijah saved Klaus."

I crossed my legs at the ankles and pursed my lips. "So Elijah saved Klaus again, hm?"

"Again?"

"No, nothing," I shook my head, "I'm— I had somehow expected he wouldn't go through with it."

"Why?"

"Because Klaus is Elijah's little brother. And you don't stay mad at your little brother. Not really." I said and Caroline's mouth opened and closed, somehow making her look like a startled-looking ring-tailed lemur. I suppose from her point of view I must have lost the plot and I drew my tongue along my teeth. "I don't doubt Elijah would have helped me. He had that mystical potion and I think it would have worked. But yeah, I did always wonder if he truly would let his brother die."

"You're an idiot."

I shrugged. She might think that. She would also feel attracted to my would-be-killer once she met him, so I decided she couldn't judge me. "So, she works somewhere in Georgia at a bar, and her name is Bree. She's a witch," I said, tapping my index finger onto the computer screen.

"I doubt she'll have that on her resume or on LinkedIn," Caroline muttered, opening the internet browser. "Bree the witch barmaid, at your service." She remarked sarcastically and her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Let's see what Bree, bar, and Georgia together will get us."

"I hope an address and a picture, so we know for sure we'll get the—"

"Bree's bar," Caroline interrupted, "well, that was oddly anticlimactic."

"Seriously, Bree's bar?"

She made a humming sound and started to search for pictures and I almost laughed out loud, when the picture of an approximately forty-year-old dark-skinned woman, with curly hair and dark brown eyes, appeared. "Yeah, that's her, all right."

"I had not expected this to go that easy."

"As I said, anticlimactic."

"I say that's a god-sent," I remarked drolly and pursed my lips. "Does it have an address?"

"Yeah," she replied, copying the address and dropping it in on the search bar on Google maps. "Here comes the bad news. It's an eight-hour drive."

"Shit."

"We could take the train I suppose. From Richmond to Atlanta and then the bus again…"

"You can't take your mom's car?"

She shook her head. "As my mom's so fond of reminding me, money doesn't grow on trees. Besides, her car has GPS. If I take it and we're gone for a few days, then she'll just have a team of police officers waiting for us to take us in."

"Yeah, that could be a problem."

"You think?" She murmured. "I suppose we could take the bus to Richmond and then the train—"

I sniggered and took out my phone. It was new. A Christmas gift from John (as was the vervain bracelet I now wore everywhere) and it was also an upgrade from the BlackBerry I'd had before. Even better, I could search the internet with it, and with practiced ease, I pulled up a ticket site. "There's a direct line to Atlanta from Richmond," I said and frowned. "It's a hundredth bucks though, and that's only a one-way trip—"

"Well, we could call first?"

"I doubt she'll come this way, even if we ask politely," I remarked dryly and bit my lip. "We could ask Stefan? He and the witch have a mutual friend, but—"

"You don't want Stefan to help, do you?"

"I feel it's easier if I don't give Stefan too much hope. He's still giving me those looks…"

Caroline snorted. "Of course, he is." She agreed and I frowned. "Elena, you're not dating anyone. He thinks he has a chance with you."

"That's why I don't want to involve him."

"I know he wants his brother back though, but honestly, without Damon life is—"

I nodded. I understood. Of course, I did. But my days here were numbered. One day or the other Klaus would return. I knew tracking down werewolves could potentially buy me a few months, and I hated it that people might die because of it— yet, the last time I changed someone's life, I ended up making it worse. So, I wouldn't interfere until I had all the pieces. Until I figured out how I could save people without making it ten times worse.

I leaned back in my seat, meeting Caroline's eyes. Right now, the best way to ensure everyone's safety was to make sure they had the numbers. I hoped I would be able to get Klaus to see it my way. I hoped he would be willing to strike another deal, even if I had to pretend I hadn't known about my blood being a necessary part of his spell of evil. However, if I couldn't, at least Mystic Falls would have people willing to protect them. "I think we should go there."

"There goes my pocket money"

"We can go a bit longer?" I asked and hooked my fingers around the strings of my jumper.

She smiled. "You mean like a girl trip?"

"By all means, what's a day more or less?"

"My mom is going to freak."

I rolled my shoulders. "Well, so is mine, but they have their Founder's council to keep them busy," I remarked dryly and waggled my fingers. "Beside YOLO, who knows how long we have? And I think we deserve to have some fun."

She grinned. "YOLO."

When school was let out, the world looked cold, gray, and washed-out and we rushed outside. Caroline drove us back to her house and we packed a weekend bag, packing an extra set of her clothes and forgoing my house in fear of running into either Miranda or Jeremy. Caroline scribbled a message on a sticky note, saying she was going to visit her father, and stuck it to the refrigerator. It was rather short and to the point, and I remembered how off-Standish and estranged Caroline's and Liz Forbes relationship had been at the beginning of the show. Still—

"And she won't, you know, call your dad?"

"My dad tends to ignore my mom's calls. Besides, he is Memphis. If we go to Atlanta, we might visit him as well. I haven't seen my dad in what seems like forever."

"Oh," I smiled, "that's a good idea."

"What will you do with your parents?"

"I sent them an email," I grumbled.

"Still at odds with your dad?"

I shrugged, adjusting the straps on the weekend bag before hooking my fingers in the loops. "Pretty much."

The stairs creaked beneath our feet as we stomped downstairs. I had to follow Caroline out of her street, and down the sidewalk, because I had no idea where the bus stops were. Thank God, Caroline did, and we both settled on the metal bench. We didn't have to wait long for the bus to bring us to Richmond. I suppose it was the closest airport in Virginia as it came to a halt in front of us. We joined the queue starting in front of it.

I climbed inside slowly. Caroline sneered, flopping down beside me in the back of the bus. The seats were small and the bag beneath my legs made me feel very cramped.

"I hate busses," Caroline mumbled.

"It was your idea."

"What was I thinking? An hour on the bus? Awesome!" She grumbled and I smiled.

"We'll make it fun though."

"We make it fun!" She nodded.

It started to rain outside, the droplets pattering against the windows. The world seemed so cold right now and the bus began rumbling down the street. We sat together in comfortable silence. I had forgotten what it felt like to have a friend.

When we arrived at Richmond we took the nightline and the first stars glimmered from behind a canopy of inky-black, swift-swirling night clouds. I slept most of the train ride, and when I awoke, we were rolling into the station of Atlanta. The weather there wasn't much better than it had been in Mystic Falls. The wind was loud in my ears and swept my sleep-tangled hair around my head. Caroline seemed unperturbed with the chill and freed her notes from her handbag, holding them up for instructions. She really was a control freak on crack as a vampire, and I felt my lips quirk when she started to point out which bus we should take and how many blocks we would have to walk to get to Bree's bar. Still, it was very early—

"I think we should find a motel first."

A second list with instructions — probably where we would find a reasonable cheap motel — joined the first and she took the weekend bag from me, slinging it over her shoulder. "Well, then let's go."

The suite she compelled us in a four-star hotel was unexpected. I knew I should be against such blatant power abuse, but truthfully when compelling wasn't used to harm, maim, or murder, I had little problem with it. The suite was large, and consisted out of a well-lit room, with a separate bedroom and an adjoined bathroom. The living room was richly decorated, one wall inset with massive windows giving a nice view of the Atlanta skyline and the others were lined on all sides with gold tile. We would probably be comfortable enough around here.

It was late afternoon when we set out to Bree's bar. Stepping inside of the mostly wooden interior — vaguely reminding me of the Mystic Grill — was odd. Not because I recognized the bar (I didn't), but because when I'd reached the bar, I found myself suddenly against the wall. A hand wrapped around my throat, choking me, while the toes of my boots barely even skimmed the floor. I struggled futilely, hands clawing at the pale wrist I could reach, crafting the skin for a moment before supernatural healing abilities made the angry red lines disappear again. Caroline was at my side a mere second later, but the vampire in front of me, blonde with pale skin and brown eyes, pushed her aside as if she was a child.

"And here I thought the bitch was dead!" Alexia Branson snarled, veins littering beneath her eyes.

"I— I'm not Katherine!" I gasped out wondering how the fuck this could happen in a bar.

"Right—"

"I'm human!" I forced out desperately and for a moment the hand at my throat stiffened before falling away. I coughed, throat already raw and painful and I slipped down the wall and onto the floor. Caroline was beside me a second later, helping me up and holding onto me. Her grip on my arm was painful, too tight, she still didn't know her strength all that well, but I didn't care.

"This is not— who are you?" Lexi demanded.

"Elena," I gasped out and something in Lexi's face softened, recognition flitted over her features.

"Elena— Stefan's Elena?"

I shook my head. "No, not Stefan's Elena, he and I are not dating."

Suspicion sharpened every line of her face and she cocked her head to the side. "That's not what Stefan implied when I saw him."

"That's because Stefan is still pining after her," Caroline remarked bluntly and I flinched.

"Caroline,"

"And he doesn't take 'no' for an answer," Caroline continued unapologetically.

"Erm, we're here for Bree," I tried but Caroline was not deterred.

Blue eyes almost shooting fire as she jabbed a finger in Lexi's chest. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Lexi," she answered easily.

"Care," I tried, raking my fingers nervously through my hair, "let's just drop this."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. Till now not even one customer had looked our way, and I wanted to keep it that way. Then again, it was weird no one had reacted yet and I frowned. Were bar fights or scuffles such a usual occurrence, no one even bothered with the innocent victims? Or innocent-ish victims? Bree, all smiles and crinkly eyes stepped up next to Lexi.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah, it's about Damon." I agreed, thankful Caroline had stopped pushing Lexi's buttons.

"The walk-away Joe," Bree remarked drolly and I rolled my shoulders.

"Yep," I agreed, popping the 'p'.

She pursed her lips and I had to crane my neck — God, she was tall — to keep meeting her eyes. "Damon Salvatore. I haven't heard that name in a long time. What's he up to these days?"

"Being locked up in a tomb beneath a church sums it all up pretty nicely," I answered easily.

"He got himself locked up in the tomb?" Bree echoed.

"Yeah, in Mystic Falls, I—"

The witch barked out a laugh and Lexi stared at me like she didn't know what hit her. The goldfish expression didn't last long and like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, both Lexi and Bree started to laugh loudly. It was so odd, I fell silent, sharing a puzzled look with Caroline. When they stopped, Bree was hanging over a barstool, pinking away the tears that had started to roll down her cheeks and Lexi was breathing hard, sounding a lot like she was on the verge of an asthmatic attack.

"You mean that Damon got himself locked up in the tomb he tried so desperately to open?"

"Yeah, we thought it was cosmic justice too," Caroline agreed morosely.

Bree sniggered. "Cosmic justice, ain't that right? And what now, did that beautiful man ask the two of you to come and get me? Hm, he's good in the sack, right?"

"Sure thing," I remarked flippantly, acting inconspicuous, "Do you think you could? Help that is?"

"Oh honey, I have more than enough juice in me to help, but— without the crystal?"

"We have Emily's spellbook," I muttered.

"We had another request as well," Caroline tried and Bree's expression turned suspicious. "Do you think you could help us with a friend?"

"A friend?"

"She died—"

Bree held up her hand. "I don't do resurrection spells. They're against nature, babydoll."

Caroline's mouth drew a tight line and I cleared my throat. "Oh, well, can you tell us how she's doing? Or if we could find someone—"

"Baby girl," Bree interrupted curtly, "magic like that has severe consequences. You shouldn't…"

"But you could— technically, get into contact with her?" I asked. Perhaps Sheila could help too. Hadn't she helped with the Silas plot in season 4? Or in season 6 with the prison world? I frowned. I didn't exactly know what had happened or why Bonnie and Damon had been left stranded there, but I vaguely thought it had something to do with Sheila too. I wetted my lips, trying to order my thoughts. "Like with an Ouija Board or something?"

"Oh hun, I don't need something like that. With the right equipment and magic, I can contact your friend easily," she sniggered and I shrugged.

"Would you be willing to?" Caroline asked, dropping her bag onto the bar top.

"For a price," Bree agreed, and Lexi was following their interaction with a curious tilt to her lips.

"What about my blood?" I asked, tapping the pale blue vein on the inside of my wrist. "Can you use Doppelgänger blood for spells?"

"Elena," Caroline sighed and I shrugged. It wasn't that much of a sacrifice.

"It's fine, Care." I met Bree's eyes head-on. "If I can part with a bit of my blood. Would you help us? Help us contact our friend and set Damon free?"

Bree shook her head, patting my cheek gently and I felt my cheeks flush. She had settled herself behind the bar again, looking far too amused. "He really has you whipped, doesn't he?"

"No," I disagreed and wetted my lips, "but I don't think anyone deserves it to be locked up in a tomb for all eternity." I frowned. "Even though several people deserve some justice after all he has done."

With a thoughtful frown, Bree pushed two glasses of what I assumed was Vodka over the bar top. I had never been more thankful for the transparent liquid and swallowed the mouthful like it was water. Going down it burned my throat and I shuddered. Bree was still ruminating over her answer and I nervously tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Well, why not." She finally agreed and I felt a small smile bloom on my face. "I guess lording this over Damon, will be fun."

"And Bonnie—" Caroline decided.

"Right, right, your friend— Bonnie?"

"Bennett—" I added, "—Bonnie Bennett."

"Well, then, we will summon Bonnie Bennett," Bree drawled and I smiled gratefully.

"Thank you!"

"Don't thank me yet, girl…"

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-Eight, The Witch, the Vampire and the Doppelgänger

The moon rose high into the late winter sky, silvery light filtering in through the bare branches above and scattered down on the forest floor below. I was sitting cross-legged, hands folded in my lap, earbuds in my ears and a tangle of white cord curling around my wrist. The music was barely capable to drown out the screeching and the whispers — who'd known that the invocation of spirits would make so much noise — nor did it elevate the horrendous lights or the flickers of faces long lost in time, but at least, it took away the edge a bit.

A little bit, at least.

I squeezed my eyes shut as another scream pierced through a cover of Britney Spear's Toxic song and within a few seconds, another scream joined the first and then they snowballed out of control (again). My eyes snapped open, just in time as something flashed across my narrowed field of view and Caroline crouched down before me.

"Wha—"

"She says she can't find Bonnie," Caroline whispered and I frowned, yanking the earbuds out.

"I don't understand?" I mumbled. "Did something block her?"

"No—" Caroline whispered urgently, "—no, she says she's not there— Elena, do you think she somehow survived?"

I shook my head. "I don't understand." I whispered.

Caroline yanked me up so harshly, my hair flailed around my face. "Bree can't contact Bonnie. She said nothing was blocking her from the other side, which means… She's still alive! She has to be!"

"But I saw her— There was an open casket— If she's not dead, then where the fuck is she?"

"I don't know, but she's not— she's alive." Caroline whispered in awe. "I didn't kill anyone!"

I had no idea what I should say. What I should do and could only stare blankly as Caroline's cheeks flushed. Her enthusiasm, her sudden elation washed over me and she gripped my wrist, dragging me towards the open clearing where Bree had settled. The flickering lights of the torches sent odd shadows over her face and a small trail of blood had starting from one nostril. Only the whites of her eyes were visible as her irises were concealed beneath her quivering lids. When we where close enough to notice her fingers draw odd symbols in the cold, cracked earth beneath her, she suddenly gasped and met my wide eyes dead-on.

"What just happened?" I wanted to know and nervously fiddled with a loose lock of hair.

"The spirits are displeased." Bree whispered, frowning.

"Why?" Caroline remarked, crossing her arms over her chest, previous elation gone and lost.

"Are they planning to— hurt you? Because you're doing something against their wishes?"

"I haven't been enforcing the spirits' will in a long time, doll." She laughed dryly.

I nodded. "Consorting with vampires wasn't appreciated?"

"You know your history, I'll give you that," she smiled weakly and struggled to her feet. "However your friend is not there."

I reached forward grabbing her arm, hoping to balance her before she dropped like a sack of potatoes and frowned. "Are you okay? Did you use too much?"

"Magic has a price," she mumbled and squeezed her eyes shut. "Still, I will be fine."

"Can I do something?" I asked, taking hold of her other arm and pushing her towards a fallen tree. It should do well as a makeshift bench for now. Bree shrugged even as Caroline started to pace, and I pushed the witch against the bark until she sat down. "Perhaps some water?"

"I'll be fine, hun."

"Some vampire blood?" Caroline asked, sounding a bit miffed and I gave her a look. "What?"

"Vampire blood?"

"Stefan said it had healing properties," Caroline defended hotly and I sighed.

"Right, well, than that's plan B." I muttered and looked at Bree again. "What did you mean Bonnie's not there? She should be. We saw her die."

"The spirits are adamant," Bree decided, "your friend is not at the other side."

"Than where?" Caroline whispered, her skin looking eerily in the pale light of the moon.

Bree didn't seem to know and I pursed my lips. Bonnie having survived and not contacting Caroline, the girl who'd lost control and fed on her, or me, the girl who wasn't really who she said she was, wasn't that farfetched I supposed. However, that did not explain why Sheila had come for me. She'd said she'd needed me and back then, I had thought for revenge. She might have been willing to hurt me for being indirectly the reason her granddaughter was hurt (I could understand), but that didn't seem like something Sheila or Bonnie would do. And if she had, she could easily have just hurt me with her magic, before demanding I go with her.

My frown deepened as I thought back to that evening. I rarely did, always ending up ruminating over Sheila's glassy, wide eyes staring unseeingly into the night sky and tasting bile. Breathing out harshly, I gnashed my teeth together. She'd said she wouldn't hurt me. What if she really hadn't wanted to hurt me? What if she'd needed me for something else? The blood pumping through my veins was a strong agent when used in a spell, wasn't it? I just had no idea how that would have helped either Sheila or Bonnie.

"Would you be able to find her?" I asked. "We understand if she doesn't want us to— but we just want to know if she's okay."

"I'm sorry, hun," Bree said and she genuinely seemed to be feeling bad for us. "I can't."

"Why not?" Caroline asked softly.

"The spirits do not wish for me to find her."

"Oh." I whispered and wetted my lips. "Can you tell if she's okay?"

"I can tell you she did not die die."

My mouth went dry. "You mean she's a vampire?"

"It would explain why the spirits are so against a witch trying to find her," Bree admitted.

"How?" I gasped and turned to a horrified Caroline.

"I didn't feed her my blood, I swear I didn't."

"I know you didn't— you wouldn't— Do you think Damon did?"

Caroline shook her head. "He would have used that against us. He would have! I— Or, perhaps—"

I shook my head. "He might not have cared. Might have hidden her somewhere." I said and bit my lip so hard, I tasted blood. The same blood that was pounding through my veins so unnaturally fast, and I too slumped down onto the fallen tree. The bark was damp and rough beneath my palms and my breathing sped up to match my fast beating heart. "Damon could have tricked Bonnie in drinking his blood. Might have spiked her drink with it without her knowing and just planned on killing her some place later."

"Doesn't explain where she is," Caroline hissed and I shook my head.

"It would if he stashed her away somewhere."

"He stays into that tomb," Caroline growled and her growl reverberated in my head.

"Or we could give him an ultimatum," I replied, blinking at Bree, "or disclose the location of our friend or a prolonged stay at his new home."

"He will be pissed." Bree remarked.

"I wasn't planning on throwing you under the bus." I tried. "He doesn't have to know you're already in the loop. He—"

"I never said, I minded, hun."

"Oh," I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and an unwelcome bead of sweat slid down the back of my neck. "Okay then." My spine tingled, my cheeks felt flushed and I met Caroline's fuming eyes. "We probably have to include Stefan into this now…"

"He would help us."

"I know," I agreed and jerked to my feet again.

I knew Stefan would be willing to help us if we asked. He was nice and pleasant like that and I knew I shouldn't keep dodging him. He might have ulterior motives in getting to know me, but he not actively perusing me romantically as he'd been doing before. Besides, I knew he would be willing to help me and Caroline find Bonnie. He would, if only because he'd understand the fear of waking up a vampire.

Caroline and I packed our bags that evening and were on the road the next morning. Bree had agreed to help us and with Lexi's assistance, had managed to acquire a car. Her boyfriend, Lee, would accompany us, having never met his girlfriend's best friend and that was how we found ourselves crammed in a dark blue Volkswagen. Bree sat behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat of the car, and the vampires in the back, we moved fast. I'd never seen someone drive as Bree did. I'd call her mad, if I wasn't so worried the first six hours or so, that she would cave the nose of the car around a broad tree trunk or even crash us against the guard rail. However, it was because of her manically driving that we passed the Welcome sign several hours earlier.

The promise of rain lay heavily in the wind and the thick scent of trees, wet leaves and dirt blew in through the partially open window (Lee had thought my human scent was too mouth-watering to resist when I'd wanted to whine about it). However, it remained dry, even after Caroline and Lexi had cornered Stefan in his room, doing his usual brooding. I couldn't tell if he was shocked or relieved we'd come to help his brother get out of the tomb, but he was quick to agree to help. Which was why we found ourselves at the outline of the cemetery a mere thirty minutes later.

Bree seemed strangely fired up, rubbing her hands together and Caroline had started to nervously pick at a loose thread in her sweater. Stefan stepped up next to me, cocking his hip out against the bonnet of Lexi's borrowed car.

"Are you ready?" He asked and I nodded tersely. We started walking.

For several minutes, our footsteps, light and quick, were the only sounds in the forest. The remnants of Fell's church appeared too soon for my liking and I slowly followed Caroline down. The air grew almost frigid when the ground began its gentle slope downwards and I let my fingers trail over the bare, mossy wall. The tomb was open, bare, the slap of rock that had been keeping the entrance hidden still discarded to the side.

I noticed Damon a moment later, propped up against the wall like a broken doll. His skin was waxy, almost yellowish and his eyes sunken in, mouth slightly hanging open. I froze. He didn't— he still had strength enough to smile, but he looked horrible.

"Hello Elena," he greeted, stepping up slowly towards the tomb's entrance. He looked pale, almost grey in the face, and he was wobbly on his feet, but still very much in control. A finely arched brow rose when he noticed both Caroline and Stefan flanking me and thrust his hands in his pockets. "Well, well, well, Stefan, you too came to visit the inmate?"

"We're not here to play your games, Damon."

His lips twitched. "Why not? It's the only thing I've been able to do down here."

"Yeah?" I asked, wrapping my arms around my waist. "Are you enjoying playing with Katherine?"

"Hm," he smirked, although he looked somewhat irritated. "Why are all of you here?"

"Where is Bonnie?" Caroline demanded, face flushing darkly.

He looked over at me, bemused. "How should I know?"

"You turned her," Caroline accused and Damon's eyes narrowed.

"Careful now Blondie," he threatened, "I'm older than you."

"You're also locked inside a tomb where no vampire can get out from," I remarked drolly.

"Hm—"

Stefan stepped in front of me, already wishing to play the hero and stared his older brother down. "Just tell them where Bonnie Bennett is, Damon. You hiding her somewhere is low, even by your standards."

"Says the heroic vampire who hides beneath a mask of gallantry but can rip off limbs the next second." Damon drawled and Stefan stiffened. "I'm sorry Stef, was that supposed to be a secret? At least, I can control myself."

"Exactly," I agreed hotly, Stefan's shoulders shivering with what I could imagine was anger. "Yet you can and you just relish in the maiming and murdering of innocent people."

"And you, my darling little dove are as pure as they come, hm?"

"No, I'm not," I crossed my arms over my chest. "But at least I'm not a psycho killer either."

"Hm, your loss, hun."

Caroline made a low sort of whining sound and let out a low growl. "You're a disgusting man whore!" She snarled and I winced at her high, shrilly tone. "You're a lowlife and if you don't tell us where Bonnie is, you won't get out. Do you understand me? You're staying in there!"

"Not for long, right, Bree?" He called out and I stiffened.

The witch appeared seconds later, holding on to the straps of her leather bag and I swallowed noisily. She smiled almost pleasantly, stepping up to my left and waggled her fingers at him. "Hello Damon."

"Hello beautiful," he grinned, forcing himself up to his feet.

"You look bad."

"Yeah," he agreed, "but you're planning on getting me out of this, hm?"

"Hm," she vaguely replied.

I swallowed, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "She is, but you have to tell us where Bonnie is." I echoed, crossing my arms over my chest and something in Damon's eyes flashed.

"I'm not playing any games with you." He sneered, echoing my earlier statement.

"I'm not playing a game," I argued hotly, "I just want Bonnie back. I know you changed her."

Damon snorted. "You sound like a broken record, Elena. Even if I did, why should I know where she is?"

"Because this is part of one of your diabolical plans no-one cares for!" I snapped back.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't know, Elena."

"Just tell the girl what she wants to know, Damon, so we can get out of here!" Katherine's voice snapped a moment before she stepped into the faint afternoon light, filtering in through a small gap above our heads. I was rather surprised she was still able to move at all and pressed my lips together, hoping what ever she said would push Damon in telling me where Bonnie was.

"I don't know where Bonnie is," he echoed meanly.

I'm not sure what it was about Damon that always rubbed me the wrong way, but as my hackles rose, so did my temper. With a face that felt so hot, I was sure I could catch fire if I wanted, and I took a step closer to the tomb's entrance. "Then you can stay here for all I care," I replied testily and turned around, stomping away. I stormed up the stone steps and stalked down the narrow path leaning up to— God knew where. I still wasn't well known in this area. I would have kept walking too, if I hadn't reached the stone shore before a large river and I skidded to a halt.

I breathed out hard and dropped in a crouch. Right hand extending to the soft lapping water, I let my fingers skim the surface. It was warmer then the chilly temperature around me and I submerged my hand into it, wriggling my fingers. The water rippled over the hem of my sleeve, and I pushed forward until I felt the mossy bank under my palm.

"Are you all right?" Stefan asked, leaning against a tree and I looked up slowly, wiping my hands on my coat. My eyes flitting over his face.

"I'm fine." I tried for a smile and knew I'd failed even though his expression softened and a small smile quirked his lips up.

"I don't think he knows where she is."

"How can he not?"

"He never saw her after he fed her his blood."

I shuddered. "She never knew what hit her, did she?"

"I'm sorry Elena," he answered and held out his hand. I took it after a moment and let him pull me up to my feet. His fingers lingered around mine and I averted my eyes from his face, staring at our intertwined limbs. I tried to subtly pull my hand back, but Stefan's grip was tight. Not painfully tight, but tight all the same.

"Stefan, can I have my hand back?"

"Right, sorry."

"It's fine," I mumbled and pushed my still damp hands in the pockets of my coat.

A small smile quirked at Stefan's lips. "Caroline is ripping Damon a new one."

"I doubt it will help."

"Agreed," he admitted, "Bree is preparing to let him out though."

"Of course, she is," I snorted.

A few wisps of clouds floated overhead, swirling together and Stefan's Lapis Lazuli ring glinted in the dim light of the afternoon sun. I took a step back, averting my face and bit down on my lower lip. I couldn't understand why he was still so interested in being with me. I could tell he wanted to— try something, at least. It made little sense and kept my lips pressed tight together. Stefan falling in love with Elena after recognizing his long lost lover in her face, I supposed made sense. After all, first-season Elena was a warm, pleasant girl, but me— I'd done everything to create a wedge between Stefan and me. I had friend zoned him so hard anyone should be able to see it, but— Stefan remained blind to my attempts to push him away. He remained purposely oblivious and I sucked my lower lip between my teeth.

"Let me take you home," Stefan tried, smiling in a gentle way and I shook my head.

"No, we have to find out where Bonnie is— She—"

"Perhaps she didn't finish the transition?"

I snorted. "That makes no sense. Why would Sheila need me if Bonnie didn't complete the transition?"

Stefan didn't get to answer as Caroline stepped out from beneath the shadow of a large fir tree and waggled her fingers at me. "Elena, are you all right?"

"Care!"

"Are you okay?" She asked again and I tried for a smile.

"I'm fine," I mumbled and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, "I'm sorry I left you there?"

She shrugged. "It's fine. I understand. You're under a lot of stress, I get it."

"Right, so are you," I said, wringing my hands together. "Still, I'm sorry."

"I'm taking you home."

"Oh joy!"

Caroline sniggered. "Yeah, mom's probably going to ground me."

"I don't even want to know what mine will do."

Tucking her blonde hair behind her ears, she smiled wistfully. "I wish things could be easier. I know you do too. I mean you used to be able to tell your parents everything."

"Yeah, well, that was before vampires came to town."

"Yeah—" Caroline agreed, "—vampires came to town."

"I don't mean you," I whispered. "I'll never mean you."

Caroline shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I know you don't mean me per se, but it is me too, isn't it."

I swallowed, or tried to, my throat felt so dry and exhaled softly. Pursing my lips, I considered her words. She wasn't wrong. She wouldn't hurt people just because she could, but Caroline was a vampire. And vampires were dangerous. They were stronger, faster and deathlier than the average human man who could sneak up on you. With the self-defence training (Krav Maga) I'd followed, I knew I could defend myself against a human. I held myself against a vampire before, but I doubted had I encountered Damon somewhere less populated, I would have managed to turn the tables on him.

I swallowed, crossing my arms over my chest and followed Caroline out of the woods. I remained mostly silent as we trudged through the forest, deviating between upset and angry my plan had failed. I certainly was more than upset when I learned that not only did Bree let Damon out, she'd also let Katherine out. Katherine Pierce who had some sort of jealous, hate relationship going with Elena Gilbert, and who would probably go out of her way to make my life even worse—

For Fuck's sake—

Nothing ever went the way I wanted it to go, did it? Even through Lexi apparently had protested, they were out again and how long would it take before Damon went feeding on the local population again? Stefan might pretend like he had a handle on it, we both knew that no one could control Damon.

And then there was Bonnie. Roofied by Damon, because how else did he manage to get her to drink his blood? Witches couldn't be compelled, but teenagers certainly could be tricked in having a drink one way or the other. She must have woken alone in the mortuary, and I guessed she must have been so terrified. It stood to reason that someone took her then, hence why Sheila Bennett had needed me.

"Here," Stefan mumbled. The sudden sound of his voice had me lifting my head.

"What?"

He smiled gently and I realized we'd arrived at the edge of the forest, Stefan's car almost painfully red in the lantern light. It took me a moment before I realized Stefan was holding out his hand to me and I stared at the fine silver wrought ring in his palm.

"Is that?"

"Daylight ring," Stefan agreed and the lapis lazuli stone shimmered in the dim light of the lanterns over head. I sought out Stefan's eyes again, my unasked question bright in mine. "Bree made it for Bonnie," he explained softly. "If she is a vampire, then she'll need it."

I nodded. "Yeah, she does," and allowed Stefan to lead me to his car. I sat in the back seat, my body angled away from both Caroline and Stefan as I thought about what to do, staring outside through the car window. Caroline and Stefan discussed what they should do now and closing my eyes, pressing my body against the door, I tried to think what could have happened to Bonnie. Who would want her in the first place. Perhaps Esther who in the third season wanted to use Elena's blood to send her children to the grave—

Who used Bonnie and her ancestors to turn them human, but, what use would she have for a vampire Bonnie? Other than using her as leverage, I supposed, but no one had tried to blackmail me, so I couldn't be sure.

The car pulled to a stop and Stefan's hand gently dropped on my shoulder. It was enough to jot me out of my thoughts and I was slightly surprised I hadn't even recognized the familiar homes.

Stefan cocked his head, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled, turning in my seat to stare at Caroline— who was no longer there.

"Yeah, I already dropped her off. You were far gone then too."

"Oh," I mumbled and smiled. "Well, thank you for taking me home."

"You sure you'll be all right?"

"Mentally? Yes, I'll be fine. Physically? Grounded till I'm twenty-eight years old. Have a nice evening, Stefan."

He smiled, his eyes darkened with hurt and felt my stomach churn. "Yes, have a good evening, Elena."

I nodded, and clambered out of the car, "See you, Stefan."

He nodded and I quickly moved towards the porch. I had no idea where Katherine had gone off to (I doubted she remained at Damon's side) and had no intention of running into her. Not Damon either, to be honest. While I'd tried to keep Stefan in the friend zone, I'd positively antagonized Damon at every turn. I fiddled with the door, the key slipping over the brass of the lock when Grayson Gilbert ripped the door open and I let out a surprised gasp. His face was white, his lips drawn in a tight line and his eyes were so livid I did a hesitant step back.

"Shit—"

"Yeah, shit!" He echoed and pushed me inside. "You're in a world of trouble, young lady."

Yeah, how wonderful it was to be a high school teenager again…

(To be continued…)

Chapter Text

Warning: this chapter contains the mention of mutilation, torture and horror to a beloved character. It's not graphic exactly, but I've been told it can be really disturbing. You've been warned!

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-Nine, A Sense of Normality

I'd been grounded for a solid three weeks as punishment for 'running off with a vampire and getting into trouble'. I went to school, was dropped off at Grayson or Miranda, and was picked up when classes ended the same way. On the weekends I had to stay home with Miranda or— as it turned out, had to accompany Grayson Gilbert to his office. Which was why I settled myself into Grayson's car that sunny morning, and watched the town blur past as he drove a little too fast.

Grayson's practice was only a mile from school, so the drive was short, but awkward. We spoke little as I watched the tidy gardens of the neighborhood flash by. Ever so often, I felt Grayson's eyes flit to me, but I refused to meet his gaze. Not even when he parked in front of his practice and dropped his hand on my shoulder.

"We're there, Elena."

"I am aware, dad," I returned gruffly and clambered out of the car.

Hitching up my bag, I stepped past the pillars, through the front door and into the lobby, stalking past the bubbly blonde receptionist and towards the cafeteria. The hallways were eerily still and silent and I quickened my step, settling on one of the plastic chairs in the cafeteria. Gentle rays of warm sunlight softly illuminated the room, washing over the gleaming table and the blue plastic chairs.

"You can't keep on ignoring me," Grayson tried, having followed after me. His coat was gone. I had no idea where he'd left it, but then again, I didn't really know Grayson's clinic well so I'd just dropped my stuff on the counter to the right.

"You disagree with me," I decided on. Because ignoring him was indeed a bit childish of me.

"You refuse to see sense," Grayson remarked.

"Yeah, no, we disagree with each other. Seeing sense has nothing to do with this."

"Elena, you were gone for three days, what did you expect? Of course, your mom and I are upset."

I wetted my lips. "Oh, I understand that. I get why you and mom chose to ground me. I just don't agree. I was with Caroline and we are both fine."

"She's a—"

"Yeah, I know," I agreed.

"And Liz had the nerve to pull a gun on me."

I pressed my lips tightly together to hide my amusement. I would have paid to've been a fly on that wall. With a grunt, mostly to mask the snort that wanted to escape, I drew my leg up on the chair, tucking it beneath my chin. Somehow, Grayson had figured out, just as Liz Forbes apparently, Caroline was a vampire. I knew for a fact no one of the Council was aware besides the two of them, but when Grayson went to collect Caroline, Liz drew her weapon. He'd been ranting about it for over three days now. I wasn't sure why, but apparently, Grayson had thought Liz Forbes would choose him over her daughter. I wasn't afraid to voice that aloud either. "She's her daughter, dad. Would you not choose me even if I was turned into a vampire?"

"That's—"

"Don't say it's different—" I argued softly, "—it's exactly the same."

"Hm, perhaps it is." He muttered and turned towards the door again before stilling. "Oh, and Elena, please remain upstairs."

"What?"

"Don't go to the basement. It is a mess."

"Erm—" I frowned, "—sure. I'll stay here."

He twirled around and stalked away, leaving me to my own devices. For a while I just stared at my interlaced fingers, considering what I should do with my time. I had little understanding as to why I shouldn't venture into the basement. Or why I should want to in the first place. Perhaps Elena used to stroll around the dust and the spiders? I found that pretty unlikely. Cheerleader Elena — the Elena before the accident on Wickery Bridge — didn't look like the kind of girl who enjoyed lurking in basements—

I on the other hand—

I would. If only because, fuck, I wanted to annoy Grayson. Also, because I was curious. A mess? My ass. Nothing ever was the way it seemed around here and I'd rather be safe then sorry. Dropping my bag on the pale-blue plastic chair, I floundered out of the room. The noon sun filtered in through the windows, already strong and bright, and I shielded my eyes. I tried to be inconspicuous, moving along the walls. If I were honest, I had no idea where the basement was—

Which was why, I spent several minutes searching the corridors. The office or examination rooms I passed quickly, mentally marking the ones from where voices filtered out of, or where empty examination table were proudly displayed off, in my head.

Finally, at the end of the corridor, I found an old door (crew only) with an old discolored brass doorhandle and stood still for a moment. What was downstairs that needed this amount of secrecy? I heard Grayson's muted voice echo dauntingly off the walls, and, quickly I twisted the handle down. For someone who didn't want me to go down into the basement, Grayson sure hadn't had the foresight to lock the door.

My smile grew when I stared down a steep set of wooden steps and closed the door quietly behind me. All was half-shrouded in shadow. The only light coming from a high window above my head and I slowly started down, holding on tightly to the chair's railing.

When I descended the last step, my feet hit the concrete and I glanced around. There was little of interest around. Just a mostly bare hallway with several doors, leading to God-knew-where. A few moving boxes lining one wall to the right filled to the brim with Christmas ornaments and fake fir branches. I dismissed them easily and turned to the doors.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I wandered down the passage, trying the door closest to the staircase. Not locked just as the door to the stairwell. Christ, Grayson really wanted me to go snoop around. I smiled when the door gave away and I leaned in, fascinated despite myself. Veiled mostly in darkness, it looked like an operating room and it was cool inside. I licked my lips, almost actually seeing the doctors, wearing scrubs, masks and eye shields and frowned. I was sure Grayson didn't do any operations in here and let my fingers slide along the wall until I found a light-switch.

When I found it, the OR was brightly lit and I took a slow, small step inside.

Just-

It looked like an OR from an horror movie. A narrow metal table with safety straps was positioned in the middle of the room, and equipment I assumed was for monitoring or anesthesia was set at the head of the table. On a table against the wall, a menacing set of tools was settled and near the other a see-through-curtain — splattered with blood — was placed.

There were also medicines. Little glass bottles lining the wall and I stared at the names with a frown. What did they need Propofol for? What was the lab table doing here? What—

"What—the fuck?"

It made me strangely queasy and I quickly stepped back, shutting the door behind me. I'd always thought those rooms were supposed to be— well, sterile. I swallowed, inching to the second door, half-expecting a morgue and slowly reached for the door handle, hesitating for a moment.

The door creaked open and slowly I moved inside, realizing belatedly I was tiptoeing and felt my face heat up. Despite the clammy coldness that had settled low in the pit of my stomach, there was little strange about the room. It was just an office— in the basement. Not weird at all. Like who didn't have an office in the basement? I snorted.

I couldn't think of anyone who had a basement office. Let's face it. Having another office in the basement of your clinic was fucking weird!

In three steps I found myself in front of Grayson's desk. It was organized, more organized than his home office desk was. The papers were stacked in neat piles and his laptop was charging. I hadn't known he had another laptop, and frowned at it, before reaching for the files. I fingered through the first pile, letting my eyes flit over his accountancy work and several researches.

The second pile was little more interesting and I diverted my search to his drawers. Most came up as unsuccessful as the paper pile search had gone, until I reached a locked drawer at the left of his desk. My initial snooping had not shown me where the key could have been. I suppose I could have left it. Could have taken my loses, but— I was sick of not knowing what I could expect.

With a surge of adrenaline, I reached for the letter opener and jammed it between the top of the drawer and the under-sight of the desk-top, putting force against the lock mechanism. Little splinters of wood curled off the smooth wood and the drawer creaked beneath the blade. I had never attempted to break in someone's desk before, or in anything for that matter, but I had seen it done before. You had to push the teeth up and then push them away, unlocking a lock. It seemed so easy too, but as I pushed against the handle it slipped free from the wood and nicked my finger, slicing open the fine skin on my index finger.

"God damned!" I snapped, dropping the knife as if burned and clutched my hand to my chest.

The cut was shallow, only a small pin-prickle of blood welling up from it and I grumbled. Snatching it from the ground, I jammed the blade in the brass lock with probably more force than necessary. The metal groaned as I twisted the knife, until finally, the drawer slipped open. I half expected to find the Gilbert device — I still hadn't found out how the Council had managed to make the device work in the first place — but instead only a leather-bound notebook greeted me.

"Well, that's anti-climatic," I mumbled, taking it out with a sigh. I dropped into the office chair.

Turning the journal in my hands, I cocked my head. It was small, barely longer or wider than my hand and soft leathered, not old like the Gilbert journals had been in the series.

I thumbed through it with a frown. It contained a lot of notes. Notes about subjects and regeneration and— he wrote about removing a lung to see if it would regrow? Sever a hand and watch new bone, sinew tissue and muscle form (which didn't happen, but it could be reattached without even the slightest traces of scar tissue) — like What?

Bile crawled up my throat and I read over more entries. Similar entries, and I understood. Grayson was researching vampires. No, he was conducting tests on vampires. Which from a scientific point, I understood the curiosity -- although, how was their ability to generate the primary concern? I mean hello, they are dead creatures walking -- but the tests? Horrible tests that entailed removing organs and I suddenly understood where those tomb vampires had gone to. My fingers spasmed around the journal and I dropped it on the desk, digging through the drawer again. I dug up several different colored paper folders full of yellow post-it notes. Full of clinically taken pictures of shallow looking people — vampires really. Some looked familiar, some did not. I thumbed through the papers until a face I knew well, appeared.

Bonnie Bennett, green eyes wide and startled like a scared horse, stared back at the camera. My heart seemed to stop beating in my chest. My eyes flitted over Bonnie's picture. At the clinical lights framing her shallow face and cold sweat started to gather at the back of my neck. For a long, long while, I stared numbly folder and then—

A door above my head slammed shut and for a moment, I barely registered through the white-noise filling my head. My hands balled into fists and cold sweat gathered on the back of my neck.

Quickly, adrenaline forcing its way up through my blood stream, I pushed the file in the waistband of my pants, pulling my shirt and sweater over it. If I sucked my belly into my spine I didn't think anyone would notice and slipped out of the office. Wetting my lips, I quickly started ascending the stairs, tip-toeing up every step. I'd just stepped out of the basement, the wooden door clicking shut behind me, when Grayson suddenly appeared beside me.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded immediately and I winced.

"Oh," I gasped, burying my hands in the front of my shirt. "I thought I heard something—"

"You heard something?" He repeated distantly and I forced a smile on my face.

"Obviously just my imagination, hm?" I shook my head. "Sorry."

"Probably just mouses downstairs." He remarked, his tanned skin strangely dark against the white of his lab-coat. Cocking his head to the side, Grayson cracked his knuckles.

"Probably mouses," I agreed, managing an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry, dad, I know you mean well. I just. You taught me so different when I was growing up. I can't just be okay with you hunting them. There are exceptions. Just, remember that. This world is already hard enough without people closest to me actively trying to get themselves killed."

"Elena—"

"Just think about it, all right?" I urged, because I thought that was what Elena would have said, and I hoped he'd back off once I did.

He nodded and I breezed away. When I turned around to look at him, he was still quizzically looking at the basement door. I cocked my head, eyes flitting over his incredulous expression before I stepped inside the cafeteria. I didn't dare taking out the folder, I didn't even dare to breathe normally and my heart kept up its pitter-patter rhythm well until Grayson pulled his SUV up on the Gilbert's driveway later. Getting out of the car without running, was a task. Taking measured steps into the house and smiling at Miranda, muttering something about writing in my dairy almost psychically painful. Not slamming door- well, that was too much. 

It slammed closed behind me and my knees buckled when surrounded by the relative safety of my room. "Holy fuck!"

Outside, the darkness was swarming, slowly, gradually crawling over the grounds and creating shadows over the windowsills. I had hidden the folder beneath the window seat, cutting open the pillow and shoving it in as far as it would go, before turning it over, pushing the cut and the folder beneath the windowsill. My hands still felt cold and clammy and my stomach felt heavy.

I hadn't felt as out of touch with Elena's body as I did that night and slumped down onto the bed, pressing my back against the headboard. It had been reckless and stupid, taking the folder.

At some point, Grayson was going to miss the information and he would, of course, figure out I'd taken it. For who else would have done so and I felt my fingers spasm around my knees. That folder— it had to go back. If Grayson would sacrifice Bonnie Bennett, a teenage girl who he'd known for all of her life, then what would he do with me? A virtual stranger trapped in the body of his adoptive daughter?

A shudder ran through me. Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I reached for my cellphone and called Caroline. She answered after the second ring.

"Elena?"

"Hey," I started nervously, "I found something. Just— it's really bad, Caroline."

I almost heard the furrow of eyebrows that followed and the line crackled. "Is your dad planning on shooting me in the head?"

"Well, yeah. Probably. But that's not it. No, I think I found Bonnie."

"What?" She gasped and I dared a slow stare at clock on the nightstand. "You— I'm coming over!"

"Take the window."

"You thought I was going to come through the front door?" she asked incredulously. "Your dad tried to Vervain me. I'm not setting a foot in your house when he's around to witness it."

The line crackled again and I started to bounce my leg, edge on my thumbnail catching on the knee of my pyjama bottoms. There was a silence, then noise, somewhat similar to driving through a tunnel, and then silence. I strained my ears, wondering if she'd hung up on me, but then she murmured, "Open up, I'm here."

"Oh!" I stumbled off the bed, my foot hooking behind the carpet and I stumbled to the window, pushing it open. Caroline flashed inside in a flurry of blonde hair and strawberry-scented-perfume and I pressed my back against the wall.

"Hey—"

"Erm, hi," I greeted back, wetting my lips.

She smiled nervously at me and retrieved the folder from the pillow. Fluffy clouds of foam fell across the floor and Caroline's eyebrows rose. "What is that?"

"Just, read it."

She gave me a pointed look before accepting the file, eyes flitting over the papers. Her eyes were bright in the soft, yellow lamplight and her natural wavy hair ruffled. Her face was rapidly losing color and I knew the exact moment Caroline found Bonnie's file.

"What— what is this?" She gasped horrified, and I swallowed.

"That's why Bonnie disappeared. I have no idea where— well—"

"Someone kidnapped her?" She asked shrilly and I shushed her.

"Shut up, Care. I don't want them to hear us!" I hissed back and Caroline paled slightly. I started explaining, whispering, speaking swiftly and concisely, as if speaking fast would somehow make Bonnie's capture better. As if speaking swiftly would exempt me of any blame. After all, if I'd gone with Sheila Bennett that evening, the older woman could have negotiated her granddaughter's freedom.

"You're turning green." Caroline interrupted my thorough recount of finding the folder and I scrambled up to my feet. I barely managed to reach the bathroom sink in time and was reacquainted with the remnants of my lunch again.

"God, I wish I could do that." Caroline mumbled, reaching over to comb my hair out of my face.

"I wish I'd known."

"Why, would that have changed anything?" Caroline tried soothingly, drawing circles over my lower back. "He's still your dad— What's he's doing, it's horrible and inhuman, but—"

"No, Care, this is— This is so bad!" I tried. "Did Stefan tell you what happened the evening Sheila died?" Upon seeing her shake her head I inhaled deeply. "She wanted me to come with her. Said she needed me and I was so afraid— so selfishly afraid, she would hurt me— but if I'd gone with her—"

"Elena, none of this is your fault."

I knew that. Of course, I knew I hadn't killed or tortured anyone. I understood that, but my choices impacted the people around me. The least I could do was reflect on them. I bit my lip, incisors tugging at the vulnerable skin and I turned the water faucet on, holding my wrists beneath the stream of cold water. "I know it isn't exactly my fault. I know I didn't hand her over, or set out to hurt anyone— Not physically at least, but, I feel like, had I gone with her that evening. Bonnie might have been set free. Sheila would still be alive and-- that's a hard pill to swallow."

"Or your dad would have called her bluff and you would have died." She said and met my gaze. "We can't know the future, Elena. We don't know what fate— and God, it sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud— has in store of us. We know now why Bonnie didn't come to us. We also know she needs help. That's what we need to work out now. How to free her. Regretting something you couldn't have known? That won't change anything."

I gave her a small smile, "You're right." Turning off the water, I followed her back to the bed. "Of course, you're right. I just feel— like I'm failing everyone. I know I don't always make sense, but— I thought Klaus would be the biggest problem. I thought making sure to handle him, would be enough to keep everyone safe." I tried. I'd thought having the foresight to deal with Klaus and having knowledge of the first few seasons would have kept the people in this town safer. 

And... Perhaps, I'd been somewhat successful, but largely, no matter how much I initially deviated from canon events, the end results had been somewhat the same. After all, both Sheila and Vicky died, just as in the original timeline. Then again, of course, the Gilberts and Tanner survived. I wetted my lips. Was this version truly better?

"We have to return the folder."

"Why?"

"Because I can't have my dad finding out I took it."

"Oh," she pursed her lips, "I see how that would be a problem."

I nodded. I'd have to return it when he isn't there. Perhaps I could manage it tomorrow. Sunday the clinic would be closed.

As if guessing my thoughts, Caroline decided. "We could return it now."

"Now as in tonight?"

"Does he have any security cameras?"

I shook my head. I was quite sure there weren't any. And if there were, I could dress in something dark. A black hoodie and matching dark jogging pants. If we raided his opium stash, and made a mess of every room, no one would suspect me. I was sure of that. I wasn't hooked on opium, so— well, I was hooked on other medication, but at least I was slowly getting off them.

"And then— we need to find out where they've taken Bonnie."

"We can compel your dad— right, he's drinking vervain right?" She whispered, spidery veins writhing beneath her eyes and I supposed Caroline rather tortured it out of Grayson Gilbert than compelling it. I wished I wasn't actually considering that option and wetted my lips. Averting my eyes, I stared at my hands. What monster would experiment on people? What monster would remove limbs and innards to see what would happen? Elena's father apparently.

"Let's focus on returning this stupid folder." I whispered.

"Right." Caroline agreed and I moved to the bathroom I shared with Jeremy (who still wasn't on speaking terms with me) and dropped my pajama bottoms to the tiled floor and struggled my tight black denim pants again. Caroline watched me busy myself with an unreadable look on her face. It darkened when I retrieved two of Jeremy's dark, formless hoodies.

"What— why are you taking those?"

"For the off-chance Grayson does have camera's, we won't be recognized." I explained.

Caroline's nose scrunched up in an almost amusing expression. "But they stink!"

"Yeah— teenage boys—" I agreed, shrugging as if that somehow conveyed all the horrors that was my Jeremy Gilbert's smelly clothes. I wetted my lips, dropped the hoodie, Caroline still hadn't accepted, over the sink and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Anyway, I think we should ransack the place. To get that folder, I forced the lock with a knife after all, and I think that looks way less suspicious if we take several more and take every drug that's even slightly addictive—"

"Oh," Caroline mumbled, "that's smart."

"Thanks." I smiled and tapped the hoodie on the sink with my index finger. "Let's roll."

Caroline's answering grin was pure sin. "Burn baby, burn."

To be continued…

Chapter Text

o.O.o

Chapter Thirty, Whitmore College

By the time the sky began to lighten, Caroline helped me up the downspout and through my bedroom window. The mission, as I'd gone to calling it that night, had gone well. Getting into Grayson's clinic had been childishly easy. It seemed Youtube tutorials on how to pick locks were an actual thing and when we were inside, we'd moved through every room. I'd forgone the creepy torture chamber — as Caroline called it — but otherwise, the plan had gone perfectly. It had given me great satisfaction throwing the folder and Grayson's disgusting experiments over the floor and it was pure will that withheld me from torching the place down. Somehow making sure canon prevailed in going up in flames seemed like a good thing.

The downside? The clinic might not have cameras, it did have a silent alarm. That and what was I going to do with the ridiculous amount of drugs I now had in my rucksack? When the cop cars pulled up in front of the practice, guns blazing, Caroline had flashed me out and to safety like Thor Odinson would have had with Jane Foster.

"I'd say that went well," Caroline whispered as I busied myself with taking off my hoodie.

"Yeah, until the police arrived," I remarked darkly, slipping off my boots. The rucksack — perhaps I could sell the drugs; okay no, that was bad, scrap that — was bulking, and without a real idea what to do with it, I padded on bare feet over to the closet, pushing it beneath a scarlet blanket. "We have to think what to do with this. I don't think my mom ever really checks my closet but— for the off chance she does, it needs to be gone quickly."

"Right," Caroline nodded and I settled in my usual place upon the window ledge, feet propped up on the window seat.

"At least, there were no cameras. I suppose that gave us some leeway space."

"We'll be fine," Caroline reassured softly and I nodded. I had to believe that.

"What if someone—"

"It's okay," Caroline repeated. "Your mom and brother are both asleep."

I let out a soft sigh before the hairs on the back of my neck prickled upwards. "And Grayson?"

"He's on the phone with the insurance company. Relax. It sounds like he just got the call."

"I hope it'll keep him busy today," I muttered. "How's your mom?"

"As well as expected," she returned, sitting down across from me, nudging my foot with hers. "She's taking it better than I thought she would if I'm honest. I think she's known about it for a while now."

I nodded and for a while, we sat in silence. Pale sunshine began to bathe the room with warmth and a damp, early-morning breeze filtered through the partly opened window. The clock on the nightstand ticked noisily and when the front door downstairs closed with a thud, we watched Grayson Gilbert cross the lawn and get into his car. Caroline made sure to keep herself from his view while Grayson steered his SUV out of the driveway. I watched the hard look pass over Caroline's face and averted my eyes.

"We have to figure out how to find Bonnie."

"We have to find out where they keep the vampires," I said, wetting my lips.

Caroline inhaled softly. "I don't know of a place in this town where they can keep so many people."

I turned to the soft light of the sun and frowned. My thoughts were spinning so fast that I felt physically nauseous and my leg started to bounce. My hands were tingling and my cheeks were flushed. There had been something about a secret society in the fifth season wasn't there? God, I regretted I'd stopped watching the show after the fourth season now and nibbled on my lower lip.

"I think they use a special OR room on the college grounds…" I muttered, frowning. Pity I didn't remember which college and Caroline stared at me.

"What?"

"It made little sense. I didn't understand what the content was and— he wrote an article!"

"What?" Caroline echoed looking as if I'd grown a second head. "What are you talking about?"

"He wrote an article," I muttered, moving towards Elena's laptop, I flipped it open and settled behind my desk, searching the internet. It reminded me of my initial bachelor thesis search and my fingers flew over the keyboard. Muscle memory helped me through the web and within minutes the article popped up on my screen. Instead of a few columns with data that made no sense, the entire article on cell generation was there.

"There!" I said, tapping the screen hard enough to make it flicker, "There it is."

"There what is?" Caroline asked, staring at the explanation of the formula of whatever grow factor they had used. They had gotten from some vampire and I felt my hand grow clammy.

"Funded by Whitmore College."

"You think—"

I swallowed, rubbing my fingers along my temples. "That the college who founded the creepy research paper and probably also the creepy experiments has something to do with them? Yeah, that's exactly what I think." I bit my lower lip, uncrossed my legs, and frowned. The college or the organization that funded someone's research often had more to do with the examinations and the trials than they did on paper. I'd dare say, that was where that creepy organization was located. I vaguely remembered having seen a few scenes of some blond weirdo hurting a dark-skinned boy— but— I wasn't entirely sure what that had all been about.

"So, you think Bonnie is at Whitmore College?" Caroline asked and I shrugged.

"I hope so."

"I doubt your parents are going to let you go there." Caroline mused. "What, after eloping with me?"

"No, probably not at this moment, no—"

Caroline nodded. "Right, exactly so how do you want to—"

I munched on my lower lip, intertwining my fingers. "I'm considering taking my SATs before or after I turn eighteen this year. I think visiting colleges would be a logical follow-up…"

"Seriously?" Caroline snorted.

"Yep," I agreed. I didn't particularly want to go to college like Elena Gilbert, but I certainly didn't want to be longer in high school than I had to. I didn't want to do another year of it. Besides, I had taken my SATs before. I could do it again. Caroline slumped down on the arm of my chair and scrolled through the article. A shuddering breath expelled from my lips and I too read over the explanation of a new growth factor (aka vampire blood) as a reagent for healing the gravest injuries.

"I can't believe he would do this," I muttered

"He doesn't consider them human," Caroline piped up nervously.

"I'm pretty sure that's the same excuse the Nazis had, Caroline," I whispered. "Besides, you just don't do this. To want a murderer to die, I can somewhat understand. I understand why some people are in favor of the death penalty, but this—" I shuddered and turned the laptop off.

We didn't speak much more that day. Only the next did decide on a plan.

We were sitting in my bedroom that afternoon too. The afternoon sky was a wintery, iron grey, a sharp contrast to yesterday's weather, and faint daylight filtered in through the windows. Caroline was sprawled out on her stomach while I had drawn the desk chair next to her. I'd printed a map of the college building, the campus, and even the hospital near the college. The hospital was the most logical place to conduct tests, but, of course, a private clinic somewhere in that area as possible as well. I had no idea of really knowing and drew back with a sharp breath, running my hands through my tousled hair.

Exhaustion was steadily seeping into my limbs, and slowing my mind. I made a rather unsuccessful attempt at muffling a yawn and drew a pale-blue quilt around my shoulders. Caroline was marking several rooms and locations where an underground lab might be possible, twirling the bright yellow highlighter between her nimble fingers.

"Perhaps the morgue—"

"How do you keep a dozen of vampires there unnoticed?" I interrupted softly.

Caroline let out a groan and shook her head. "I don't know— magic?"

"Perhaps," I conceded. I wouldn't have thought they had a witch on their side, but— it would make sense if they had. A witch could have cloaked Bonnie from both her grandmother and later Bree. "I'm not sure how we could know for sure, but you have super-hearing."

"I do," she agreed, "and I have super-strength and speed. Not sure what good that will bring us now."

"If those people keep the vampires somewhere on campus, experimenting on them, don't you think you might be able to hear them— or, I don't know smell their blood?" I asked, curling my arms around one of my knees. "Do you think you could?"

"I— I guess." She responded hesitantly. "I suppose it's worth the try."

"I don't know what else we're supposed to do. There is no way Gray— my parents will tell me anything." They wouldn't believe it if I would suddenly change my mind about vampires, just out of nowhere. "I suppose we can—" I closed my mouth with an audible click and shook my head, "—no, we can't. That would be wrong."

"You're making, oh so much sense, right now."

"I don't know what to do, right now," I whispered, "but we can't do nothing. Bonnie doesn't deserve to be treated like some lab rat. No one does."

"Let's go with your first plan." Caroline decided. "Let's visit Whitmore College. It's worth a try."

"Okay." I sniffed and frowned. "Give me a day or two to figure out what to say to my parents."

Caroline nodded, straightened her Burgundy vest, and moved towards the window. "Keep me informed, all right?" And before I could do more than nod, she was gone.

The news I wanted to take my SATs at the end of the school year went over surprisingly well. Apart from surprise coloring both of their faces, Elena's parents seemed equally proud. I didn't think they were realizing that apart from taking my SATs earlier, I would try getting into a college (and get away from this stupid town) earlier as well. Either way, it was surprisingly easy manipulating Miranda and Grayson to visit Whitmore College.

With the celebrations coming, Headmaster Clearwater had issued several free afternoons. Which was why we would be visiting the college on a Thursday afternoon. Miranda couldn't come along — Miss Mystic Falls didn't plan itself — which was why I sat in the passenger's seat of Grayson's SUV. Jeremy had come along for the ride, sitting in the backseat texting away. He didn't speak to any of us.

It was sunny out. A perfect Virginia day and Grayson's ring glinted in the warm light of the late winter sun. I stared at the large, tacky blue stone and nervously shifted in my seat. Created by Emily Bennett and given to Jonathan Gilbert they should be capable to bring someone back from supernatural caused death. Looking at it now, it made my fingers itch and I ran my tongue over my front teeth.

Folding my hands into my lap, lest I did something stupid, I turned to stare outside. Accompanied by the deep rumble of the engine, Grayson's SUV moved down the small lane that wound its way between the trees, away from Mystic Falls. The car was surrounded by trees crowding together at the edge of the asphalt. The branches were backlit by the soft, warm sunlight, spreading a dappled blanket out over the ground.

I watched as the landscape was swathed in deep green-tinted shadows. And before long, I watched the thick foliage make way for the busy highways. Thirty minutes later, I watched the highways bleed into increasingly empty side roads. In another ten, we'd reached the suburbs of McKinely, the houses have seen better days. Large cracks ran up the dark bitumen road and the paint of the houses seemed to be curling off the walls, the veranda, and the doors, much like moldy rinds. I couldn't help letting my eyes flit over the rough, burly wooden porches, realizing rather late how affluent the town of Mystic Falls was. I watched the houses bleed into a row of deserted warehouses lining the right side of the street, doing my best to concentrate on the larger buildings, eyes flitting along with the details (anything to avoid talking to him), but they passed by too fast.

The car had passed on into the main part of town and in the distance, I thought I noticed Whitmore College, standing out, the sun breaking through the clouds and I shielded my eyes against the sudden onslaught.

"Are we almost there yet?" Jeremy piped out from the backseat and Grayson tutted.

"Now, now, son, patience," he admonished lightly.

Jeremy snorted, "Sure, you try being patient after an hour being cooped up in the backseat of your car, dad. Besides, I won't be starting college in three years. What's the point?"

"It's good to check out your options, Jer." I tried gently and I slowly turned to look at him.

His mouth pursed in distaste or weary skepticism. I couldn't tell. He wasn't speaking to me. Hadn't been since returning the second week of Christmas break. The way his mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed, made me think he wasn't planning on speaking to me now, either. I looked away, just in time to notice Grayson turn the car into a large, underground garage.

"Are we here?"

"Yes," Grayson agreed easily, pulling the SUV into a small slot at the back first level.

The second, the key was removed from the engine, I unstrapped my seatbelt and threw the car door open. Grayson and Jeremy followed suit, the car giving a reassuring beep when it locked, and I let Grayson lead the way out of the garage. Elena's father seemed to know his way around the place, easily migrating through a pair of glass doors and up a set of stone stairs. Within a few minutes, we were outside, crossing what I assumed was the college campus and I had to jog to keep up with Grayson's brisk walk. I didn't have to pretend to be curious. My eyes flitted over the sloping, busy grounds. I scanned the area where students were lounging on the grass, onto the iron fence near a set of trees to the right, and on the green park, benches settled by one border of the grounds. Grayson led us down a paved dirt path, surrounded by old-fashioned black street lamps, veering off from the main path and I wrapped my arms around my waist. The white building, the central building of Whitmore College was towering and square.

"When I went here, I had so much fun," Grayson divulged and I nodded.

"I'm sure," I whispered because I could. I could understand. College was a fun, amazing time. It had been, at least, when I'd started it. The place where I'd finally started to live on my own (if you could even call it that, since I was part of student housing, with a roommate and all), making my own decisions and I had been looking forward to finishing it. Or at least, that had been my goal. That had been my goal before. The building looked recently built, yet its entire decorum seemed old-fashioned instead. I imagined going there for a moment. Imagined myself stalking down these paths, my beige canvas rucksack slung over one shoulder. After all, choosing a college was like painting on a blank new canvas. I could choose differently now. I could choose whatever I wanted because, in this universe, I had no one to disappoint. I barely cared if I did disappoint Elena's parents. After all, when I saw Elena with my ex-boyfriend, I'd decided I would live for myself and not for the expectations of people I didn't know. I thought that was fair too. I deserved to build a life, didn't I?

Or at least, try and built one. I knew I was on borrowed time. At some point, Klaus would roll in and I had no idea how to deal with him again. Furrowing my brows, I forced my attention back to Grayson. His face was lit with emotion.

"Whitmore delivers brilliant English literature students," he remarked. I blinked owlishly.

"Oh," I breathed, "that's great."

The back of his neck flushed red. "You want to be a writer, right?"

"Perhaps," I conceded (I didn't think divulging all of my secrets right now was a smart move).

"That's what you've wanted since you turned ten."

"I do enjoy writing and literature," I answered easily, "but I want to be sure. There are several introduction classes on several subjects next April and I want to consider all of them thoroughly."

"Hm," he mused and the sun appeared from behind the clouds.

I squinted against the hazy light, suddenly noticing Caroline's indistinct silhouette, near the back building. When my eyes got used to the brightness, I let them subtly glide over her. She was dressed casually, short pink skirt and a matching sweater, leaning against the red brick wall, sunglasses perched on top of her head and she looked like she was reading something from a textbook.

I smiled, giving her a small, subtle waggle of my fingers, before following Grayson up towards the main building. I couldn't believe how spectacularly our plan was going. We were both at Whitmore College, Grayson would be blissfully unaware of my plan when I went exploring and I could meet Caroline. He was in his element too, chattering on and on about past adventures in these very halls

I heard the door sweep shut with a soft click behind me and tagged slightly behind. Grayson was amicably telling Jeremy about something he and his friends had gone through and I let my eyes glide over the pictures on one wall. It occurred to me that several of these stories had been told before. It occurred to me that the scant knowledge I'd had learned the past few months was just that— scant knowledge. I didn't know this man; as if I hadn't figured that out the last few days.

"So dad—," Jeremy started as one hallway bled into another, "—where did you and Mister Lockwood pull the peck and feathers prank?"

"That was in the science room," Grayson answered fondly and leaned towards us, whispering the next words conspiratorially, "and to this day, your mom still thinks it was Richard who filled her desk drawer with maple syrup, but— that was me."

I let out a glade of laughter, easily catching their attention, and managed a smile. "So, dad, do you think I can take a look around by myself?" I asked.

"Oh," Grayson smiled, "of course. Jeremy, do you want to go with—"

"No."

Grayson's jaw went slack. "She's your sister."

"I don't care."

"It's fine," I shrugged. "I'm sure, Jeremy will be fine by himself. There are no angry boys to sucker punch him in his face, after all," I added childishly, cementing his resolve to not accompany me. It worked like a charm and I watched Jeremy's face flush darkly.

"Go to hell."

"Guys," Grayson huffed out an unamused laugh, "could you please act like your age?"

"I am not going with the backstabbing bitch." Jeremy snapped and I winced.

"By all means," I gritted out, turning sharply on my heel. I didn't wait for Grayson to call on me and quickly stalked away. Finding my way back to the back of the building where I'd seen Caroline last was easy. Finding Caroline, though, wasn't. Or at least, when I turned the corner and stepped up onto the grass field and off of the dirt path, I didn't see her. And I panicked. I didn't dare yell her name and— I tripped over a blunt-edged rock when I turned around again, craning my neck to see the blonde vampire. It was not even surprising. One minute I was the poster child of subtlety and manipulation, the next I was sprawled out, face-first into the dirt. Swaths of knee-high, greenish grass were tickling my cheeks and I groaned.

"God damned!"

"Are you okay?" A man's voice from my left inquired and I pressed my forehead against the grass.

"No."

A short, snorting sort of sound filtered through the air, and I could imagine the amused expression this stranger was wearing. "Do you need some medical aid?"

"My ego probably would," I answered drolly and slowly pushed up onto my knees, peering up at the blond stranger. He was handsome, in his early thirties, and smiling down at me with impossibly blue eyes.

"I'm sure your ego could handle a dent or two?"

"I suppose," I muttered, studying the round slope of his cheeks, his strong chin, and the barely-there stubble. He was very handsome, lithe, and pretty, and in the sunlight, his dark blond hair looked almost golden. "Do I know you?"

"Your Grayson's kid, right?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "How do you know that?"

"I've seen your picture once or twice." He grinned. "He likes to speak about you."

"Oh."

"My name is Wes Maxfield. I'm a colleague of your father's."

"Oh!" I echoed, recognizing that name. My heart lurched. "You published that article with him?"

He nodded, seemingly pleased and I forced a smile on my face, even though I felt as if fire ants were crawling up my limbs, beneath my skin. I realized I was staring a tad too long to be decent and felt my face flush darkly. I hoped he would interpret it as a teenage crush and awkwardly got to my feet, shifting my fingers around my lower arms.

"My dad's here too," I tried, but my voice sounded too high to be considered normal.

Maxfield didn't seem to notice, his voice almost lazy when he answered. "Hm, I should go and say; 'hello' then, hm?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "I'm sure he would like that."

"It was nice meeting you, Elena,"

"Erm, yeah you too," I agreed and he turned away while I remained seated on the grass. When he was well out of earshot I smacked my lips. "Well, that was weird."

"Yeah," Caroline agreed, having appeared from God-know-where and she smiled, "You seem to attract weird."

"Caroline—"

"I was really worried he would take you with him," Caroline muttered and I smiled.

"You and me both."

"What took you so long?" she said, watching me with poorly disguised impatience.

"Oh, perhaps I should have mentioned I was going vampire seeing with you?" I suggested rudely.

"Okay, point taken."

I rolled my eyes. "Did you—"

"There is a cellar near the students' houses, it's deep beneath the building." She whispered.

"Oh?"

"I can't get in though." She whispered

"So?"

"It smelled bad, Elena."

I scrubbed my hands over my face. "Shit, you think that's—"

"I don't know. There's too much noise around here, I can't tell for sure."

"It's worth a try, though."

She nodded and I toyed with the large brown buttons on the front of my coat. It was too warm to be wearing it, the sky a cerulean blue, and the gentle breeze laced with a warm, grassy scent. I could go inside, I didn't need an invitation, but me alone? I laughed, slightly hysterical, and again, scrubbed my hands over my face. My lips twisted. "We have to get whoever lives there to invite you in."

"Easy if they don't know about vampires…"

"Hard when they do know about vampires…"

I frowned, I practically felt the flutter of my pulse beneath the fine skin of my throat and ran my tongue over my teeth. "But not impossible!" I frowned. "I can get in."

"Hm, yes, that sounds like a solid plan." She sarcastically drawled and I had to stow away the impulse to stick my tongue out. Caroline rolled her shoulders and I followed her down the dirt path and to the student houses. They were all red-brownish brick, surrounded by high freshly budding trees and I craned my neck to look at the high paned windows. Caroline led us to the building furthest from the street, surrounded by a thickly grown garden, heavy with shrubs and trees. It was hard to see past it from the road and I wondered what kind of figure lived there. It didn't look like student housing.

I swallowed. "Okay, let me handle this."

"What?"

"Try to stop me, you don't want to come in, get me?"

"No, I don't—"

"Just follow my lead. Stay here, but insight."

Caroline stared at me as if I'd grown a second head and I strolled towards the front door. Fixing my hair and straightening the lapels of my coat, I tried to a smile. The same smile I'd seen on all those door-to-door salesmen that had come by to sell hoovers or whatnot and I crossed the strip of lawn towards the front door. The doorbell echoed through the house and I rolled on the balls of my feet.

It opened a moment later, revealing a dark-skinned woman with short-cropped hair and large golden earrings. She gave me a confused look and my lips quirked up even higher.

"Hi my name is Ellen Harper," I greeted, smiling gently and the dark-skinned woman frowned.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Ma'am, I'm here for a school project. We're researching the readiness of people to install solar panels." I explained, hitching my bag higher up my shoulder and started to look for my dairy. Taking a pen out as well I smiled again. "Well, my friend over there is too, but she thinks it's awkward to go calling on people. I can't see another way to get people's opinions. Would you be willing to answer a few questions? We can offer you a reward of twenty-five pounds?"

"For what class is this?"

"Physics," I answered readily. "Can I?"

She let out a long-suffering sigh and stepped aside, giving me a short nod. I swayed inside, stopping when I'd stepped over the threshold and turned to Caroline, feigning expiration. "Why don't you come too?"

"I don't go inside with strangers."

"It's perfectly fine," the woman said, seemingly unsure what she would do with two teenage girls as well and I fumbled in my coat pockets, yanking my phone free. "Jeez, I've got a cellphone."

"I don't know—" Caroline muttered and the woman sighed,

"Just come in or don't, I've got more things to do." The woman finally muttered.

I knew Caroline was smiling now. It was surprising how well this little manipulation game had turned out and followed the woman, who introduced herself as Dianne Freeman, further into the house. Dianne led us into the drawing-room. A wide, low-ceilinged room with oakwood drawers and an oakwood table, and there were pictures. A lot of them were on top of the drawers and hanging on the walls. Three boys in a playground, on the swing, older versions of the same boys in neat school uniforms, smiling in front of a school bus, and finally the recenter ones of the three boys, now teenagers, settled on a park bench.

"You have a nice family," I commented, turning around— just in time to see Caroline flash forward.

The woman didn't stand a chance and watching her use a move I'd only ever seen in movies, yapping her into the neck with tensed fingers, the woman dropped down in a dead faint. With a soft exhale, Caroline crouched down beside the fallen woman, rummaging through her handbag until she found the syringe she had been looking for.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure she stays down for a while," Caroline replied as she stuck the needle in Dianne's neck.

"Wow, someone came prepared," I muttered and felt my mouth dry as I saw the entire syringe being emptied. "What is that anyway?"

"Rohypnol," she breezily replied.

"You roofied her?"

"Well, yes, Wikipedia said it would sedate and probably cause amnesia— seemed useful."

"You thought the date rape drug was useful?" I commented drolly and Caroline shrugged.

"Come on, basement."

I nodded, shrugging my coat off, and Folded it beneath Dianna's head. Pushing my hair up in a high ponytail, I followed Caroline through the house. The basement itself wasn't hard to find. From the landing the third door to the left, but inside it was pitch dark. A narrow room with cold iron stairs dominating the middle, leading down. Apprehension crawled up my skin and I gave Caroline an anxious stare.

"Ready?"

"Not really," I whispered. "If we are wrong… This is a home invasion."

"We will be fine. If we're wrong, I'll compel her."

I exhaled loudly. "That doesn't make it right though… Do you still smell—?"

"It smells horrible."

"Okay, let's go then."

(To be continued….)

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Two, Answers

I was sitting on my bed, arms wrapped around my drawn-up knees, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The blood, the murders— I knew Caroline had escaped, but I hadn’t heard from her. I hadn’t heard from Enzo either; why would I have? He held no interest in me beyond the brief relief it would have been to sink his teeth into my neck and watch Grayson shriek and cry for the death of his only daughter. However, the carnage triggered a ton of nightmares again, mainly featuring Enzo’s cold, red eyes. Disorientating sensations of an arm around my waist, pressing and pressing, cracking ribs, the scent of burned flesh and metal. And ever so often, they’d turn darker and darker until smoke was clogging my vision, the heat of the flames scorching the ground around me and Klaus smiling down at me.

‘Thank you, Sweetheart,’ before sinking his fangs in my neck.

I would die, the darkness closing in and then when I awoke as a vampire, I’d be strapped to a metal table. And then I would gasp awake for real. My human heart beat wildly against my chest, staring up at the slanted ceiling of Elena Gilbert’s room. The visage of her somewhat girly room didn’t face me anymore; its familiarity was almost soothing by now, as was the face looking back from the mirror. Although my skin looked pallid, paler than Nina Dobrev’s ever had, and the shadows beneath my eyes looked terrible, it was my face. And it was my life now. 

My phone vibrated, and I reached for it, finding my silent alarm telling me school would start in less than forty minutes. I busied myself with dressing. I didn’t notice the door behind me open or hear the footsteps until a hand fell on my shoulder. My gasp was drowned out only by my back’s thud when it hit the wall. 

“Oh—” Miranda Gilbert’s shocked voice registered a second before her face sharpened in front of me.

“Erm, hi, Mom,” I tried, my heart thudding painfully against my chest.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie; I didn’t mean to scare you.” She whispered.

I recognized an intervention when I saw one. I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t expected one before, so I bit my lip. “It’s fine.”

  “Are you okay?” She intoned in a soft, warm voice.

I shrugged and tied my hair back in a high ponytail. “I’m fine.”

“Your dad— I know you don’t agree with it, but, Sweetie, you don’t understand.”

“Why is everyone telling me I don’t understand?” I asked, flattening my hands over the front of my white dress. “I understand perfectly. Dad thinks vampires are soulless monsters who don’t have any rights. Or just monsters? I don’t even know, but it doesn’t give you the right to experiment on them. It makes you no better than the monsters you’re trying to fight.”

“Elena—” 

“And it’s not like he did it to cure any of them either.” I continued, ignoring the dozen different emotions dancing in her eyes. “Not every vampire is a monster. Some try. But why bother, hm? In the end, they’re only vampires, aren’t they?”

“Elena, we think we should have another talk,” Miranda said, and I met her eyes.

“I don’t think I’ll ever agree with your standpoint,” I grumbled.

I didn’t want to have this conversation. Not again. 

Closing my eyes, I gritted my teeth together. I only had to wait until Elena turned eighteen. I could handle it till June 22. I could— or I hoped I could. I followed after Miranda in a way I supposed someone would have followed their impending doom. Grayson was already sitting at the kitchen table, hands clasped before him, and I shuffled inside. Miranda closed the door behind us— so this would be a private conversation? Wonderful. 

Miranda gestured to the stool opposite Grayson, but I shook my head. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter. Grayson’s expression was flat and empty when he looked at me, and Miranda slumped down on a stool beside her husband, looking weary and tired.

“Okay,” she said, tapping her fingers on the table. I realize we’ve reached an intersection of some sort. And I know we disagree on how to threaten vampires.”

Grayson and I gave her equal looks of irritation, and Miranda smiled wanly. “Well, at least you two can agree on something.”

“Rand,” Grayson huffed irritably. 

“Honey, we have to work this out as a family.”

My mouth dried at those words.

As a family—

But I would never be family. 

I would never be Elena Gilbert. And could people expect me to pretend to be someone I wasn’t for the rest of my life? I didn’t think I should have to ground my teeth together in frustration. Miranda was nervously wringing her hands together, still talking. I noticed her mouth move, but a loud buzzing prevented me from hearing what she was saying. I was sure she had many fond, blurry memories, filled with all these little moments I didn’t know about and— and it hurt. 

It hurt knowing that every moment she would cart her fingers through my hair, she didn’t see me. I wondered if that was how Elena felt when she learned about Katherine. The feeling hadn’t been overwhelming before, the sense of not belonging, but it was now. It took one thoughtless comment about family to remind me that I was not the one they wanted. That they were not the parents I wanted. Whenever I saw them curl up on the couch with Jeremy, I would miss my parents and remember that nothing I did could ever get them back. All of this might have been easier if they were gone. If the both of them had died, but— although my father wasn’t alive anymore, my mother was.

But she wasn’t here—

Perhaps it was easier to pretend she wasn’t alive anymore. It had been easier to miss my father because of that. He would genuinely never come back. Perhaps, if I considered my mother that way—

“Elena?”

“Hm?”

Miranda cocked her head to the side, looking at me as if she expected me to say something. To answer a question, I guessed. A question I hadn’t heard, and I bit my lower lip, curling my fingers around the edge of the counter. 

“I don’t want to talk about all of this,” I said flatly.

“I don’t care,” Grayson snapped, “as long as you live under our roof, you follow our rules.”

 “I do follow your rules,” I remarked testily, forcing my anger down. “I’m home for curfew; I do my chores. I do my homework and prepare for the SATs. What more do you want from me?”

“No, associating with vampires would be a start.” He remarked, adopting an expression of mild disinterest. It fooled no one. “You just don’t understand what they are like.”

I threw my head back and laughed boisterously. A nervous, jittery sound rolled up the sleeve of my jacket, exposing my wrist. The twin wounds were scabbed over now and, although very itchy, didn’t look that bad anymore. “I know what vampires do. I have been through it first-hand.” I whispered and held my wrist out as a challenge before dropping it. 

Miranda’s face had gone white. I saw a dozen emotions dance in her eyes before she turned to her husband, and the realization hit me like a thunderbolt. She hadn’t known I’d been bitten. I wondered what else Grayson had kept from her and let my eyes glide to his face. He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he waved a hand dismissively as if my confession meant nothing. As if the scabbed wounds on my wrist were a regular occurrence. I wetted my lips.

“What if I become a vampire?” I asked. 

“What—” Grayson started, panic flashing in his eyes.

“What if one decides to turn me?” I whispered and met his eyes. “Would you strap me to a table, too? Or would you expect me to be better because I’m your kid? Would you give me a chance?”

“Elena, that’s—”

“No, just— don’t answer that,” I whispered. “I don’t— just, I’m going to school.”

Miranda Gilbert stepped out in front of me and shook her head. “No. No, you’re not going away like this.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why would you want to know?”

“Not to become one,” I responded evenly, shrugging on my coat. “I wanted to know where I stand.”

“Sweetheart,” Miranda whispered as I hitched up my schoolbag, “we love you. And we worry.”

I considered my words carefully. “I know, but I am not a little girl anymore. And I don’t have to agree with Dad’s time. I don’t have to agree with his ‘for the greater good’ policy. Bonnie didn’t deserve any of this. You two have known her all of her life. And yet, that didn’t stop you from taking her. From hurting her.”

Grayson’s chair scraped against the floor, and his face rapidly gained colour as he pushed it back. “She is not human anymore. You shouldn’t  confuse—”

  “I don’t want to have this discussion any more!” I snapped and tore out of the house. The door banged closed behind me, and I ran. I ran down Maple Street and turned into the next, never remembering its name. My heartbeat sounded like a thunderous roar in my ears, and cold filtered through my veins. I should have taken the car— it would have been easier— but the chilly morning air felt delicious against my heated skin. 

When my muscles were finally drained of their energy and my breath burned in my lungs, I stopped. Panting hard, I stooped over, hands bracing my thighs. I hadn’t been attending cheer practice the last few months, and my stamina paid the price. Gasping, I reached for the lantern and leant heavily against it, blinking away the tears burning in my eyes. My wrist itched, and I ripped my sleeve up again, staring at the wound. Still relatively fresh and only partially scabbed over, it itched so bad that I couldn’t help but scratch at it. It would probably leave another scar— although it would be less recognizable on the paleness of the skin of my inner wrist. 

I exhaled loudly and curled my fingers through my hair, gripping at the ends. My schoolbag felt heavy on my shoulder, and I wondered. I did that a lot lately. But I wondered. What if Elena’s parent’s car had gone off the bridge as it was supposed to all those months ago? Would that somehow have made this situation better? I thought it would have saved Bonnie a lot of pain— perhaps the storyline wouldn’t have changed so much when Elena’s parents had died the way they should have.

I swallowed. Did that make me a horrible person? Was I an awful person already? I wasn’t sure anymore. It was much easier to consider someone’s options, from the safety of your bed, wrapped tightly into your comforter as you watched the series, to make decisions on the spot. The rain started to drizzle against my skin, and my cheeks chilled. I inhaled deeply, sucking my lower lip between my teeth and wrapped my arms around my waist. Not being a good person— it wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Looking at the noses of my sneakers, I trotted further down the pavement. It took mere minutes before my feet were slushing in my sneakers and another few before my coat was drenched. I couldn’t have gotten any wetter had I gone for a swim in Wickery Creek, and I let out a long, grateful breath when the Center’s square came into view. It was short-lived when I noticed a second set of footsteps behind me. 

I quickened my step, a flutter of fear curling down my spine and—

  “Elena?”

I sucked in a heavy breath when I recognized Caroline’s voice, and I turned my head so fast that a flash of pain curled up my neck. “Caroline?”

  “Hi,” she greeted me, and I stared hard at her.

  “Hi?” I echoed and felt my face heat up. “Hi? Caroline, where were you?” I continued, my voice gaining a screeching tone. Caroline flinched away from me as if she had been struck, and I forced my horrified anger down, “Don’t you know how worried I was? I thought—”

  “I’m okay,” she tried. 

The sound that escaped my throat hit the exact midpoint between relief and disbelief, and I wondered what question I should ask Caroline first. There were so many bubbling up my throat; none seemed quite right. 

  “I don’t know what to say— where were you?”

  “Enzo helped me,” she explained.

  “Oh, it’s Enzo now, hm?”

  “He wasn’t so bad,” she shrugged and beckoned me to move along. I was reminded that this was the girl considering giving Klaus himself a second chance after he all but painted the town of Mystic Falls red, and he was by far the worst vampire of them all. Honestly, it was unsurprising that Caroline considered Enzo ‘not so bad’, and I bit my lip.

  “Did he bring you home?”

Caroline looked at me with a look that made me think I was being naive, and I wet my lips.

  “Never mind.”

“Come on,” she told me briskly.

  “Erm?” I frowned. “School is the other way, Care.”

  “We’re not going to school. We will discuss this— we have a lot to discuss.”

Our footsteps tapped across the cobblestones as I followed Caroline towards the central library, crossing over Main Street. The air had lost most of its bite, even if the rain had not lost its chill, and the green, budding trees bent across the quaint stone buildings surrounding us. The library was also made of brick, a towering construction with stained windows, and I slowly followed Caroline up the stone steps leading to the entrance.

I craned my neck when we entered. Dim light spilt in through the stained windows above our heads and washed out over the entry. I hadn’t been there before and slowly followed Caroline up a pair of wooden stairs. My fingers clamped around the iron handrail, and I let my eyes glide through the room. It was spacious, I would give it that, but I missed the bookish smell. I’d come to associate with the old library at my previous home. Compared to an old-fashioned library with its towering bookcases and several floors full of books, the two-story library in Mystic Falls was somewhat lacking. 

Well, at least here, the library was pretty much deserted, and we settled at a work table near the window, which overlooked the town’s square. 

The early spring rain pattered against the window, and I bounced my knee. It was the only thing I could do without launching away the questions that burned at my throat. I wasn’t sure why Caroline worried about telling me what she found. I wondered how wrong the answers were when she was this hesitant.

  “Care,” I finally asked, brushing a loose lock of hair behind my ear.

  “Enzo and I had to hide during the day,” she explained, and I felt one eyebrow rise.

  “Why?” I questioned, giving a pointed look at her daylight ring. I was under the impression that you didn’t burn in the sun when you wore that.” 

  “Well, yeah,” she agreed, “but Enzo didn’t— we had to find his ring. It's a weird story, too; it was displayed in an antique shop near campus. Anyway, Enzo helped me interrogate that creepy doctor. You know, the one you had the hots for when you met him.”

  “I did not have the hots for that creep,” I denied huffily. Caroline merely shrugged.

  “It’s fine,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I thought Damon was hot when I met him.”

  “And then he opened his mouth, I assume?”

Caroline made an agreeing sound and wetted her lips. “Yeah, then he opened his mouth…”

  “Wait— that creepy Doctor,” I muttered, “isn’t he, you know, dead?”

  “Technically, yes, but Enzo made him into a vampire.”

  “I know— but why?”

  “Revenge,” she shrugged, waving at me as if it should be obvious and leant closer. “But, anyway, the creepy witch doctor knew what happened to Bonnie— and don’t worry, she’s alive. They took her to a different building. The doctor said they needed her as leverage to find out about someone’s location. Someone ancient, Enzo thinks.”

  “You mean an Original?”

  “Makes sense, don’t you think?”

  “In their twisted way, probably.” I agreed and trailed my index finger along the rough edge of the table. “Why would they need Bonnie to find an Original?”

I considered the possibility that Wes Maxfield meant to wake Silas. I knew he was considered an ancient one, too, and, of course, when resurrecting him, they needed a Bennett witch. And they would need Shane— but I was sure he’d gotten killed off mid-season four. Vaguely, I remembered the creepy vampire experiments, but I hadn’t given that plotline much thought, having lost interest in the show at the end of season four. 

  “Elena?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what ancient one— what Original they are after.”

  “Why, you know more Originals than Klaus and Elijah?” She teased lightly.

  “I do— Klaus and Elijah have other siblings—” I said. 

Caroline’s hesitant, teasing smile grew more genuine, and I leaned my chin on my hands, cradling my face in my palms. “So which one—”

  “I’m not sure.” 

And I didn’t. I knew Klaus had every one of his siblings boxed up, but none seemed all that helpful to the group of crazy scientists. Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I considered Klaus’ mother. She was dangerous, and I supposed she could be helpful. Opening her coffin needed a set, generation, of witches— which would not explain why they’d needed Bonnie— and there was Mikael. My stomach churned, and my skin itched. 

Mikael, the vampire who hunted vampires.

I felt my brows furrow together, and I dug my teeth into my lower lip until I tasted blood.

  “Perhaps Mikael,” I whispered. 

  “Mikael?” 

  “Klaus’ father,” I explained, “I’m pretty sure he came to Mystic Falls years ago, and Bonnie’s mom desiccated him—” I explained, deciding I would think of a backup story later, “—and hid him at a cemetery.” 

  “Which one?” 

  “I don’t know,” I grumbled. I was pleased enough as it was; I might have deduced that the mad scientists were after Mikael. Caroline's brows furrowed together, her lips arching downward into a grimace. I was tempted to reach forward and grip her wrist. Ultimately, I was tempted to tell her she would be okay and that we would find out where Bonnie was. 

  “Enzo could try and get it out of that arrogant asshole.” 

  “Or we could look up Abby Bennett and ask her,” I responded.

Caroline leaned back in her chair and drew her fingers over her temples. “But she’s been gone so long, I’ve no idea how we could find her.”

  “Perhaps we could ask your mom?”

  “To find Bonnie’s mom?” she clarified, and I nodded. 

 I said, “Yes, and when we find Abby, we can ask her where she left Mikael.” 

Caroline nodded, taking out her cell phone with an unnecessary flourish. I watched her fingers tap on the screen so fast that they became blurry. I shifted in my seat, staring outside. It was still raining, although the downpour was less heavy than before. I let my eyes glide over the town hall and then fixed them on the clock tower. It had been featured in several episodes, as was the town’s square—the grassy Center with the park benches and the bulky trees surrounding it.  

Two deputies were crossing the street, and my thoughts shifted to Liz Forbes. Liz Forbes knew about her daughter’s vampirism, just as in the original timeline.

  “Elena—”

  “How did your mom find out you were a vampire?”

  “Oh,” she wetted her lips and frowned, “Matt told her.”

I swallowed. Matt told her, just as in the original timeline. Caroline didn’t notice my musings, rolling her cell phone through her fingers and talking without realizing I was missing most of her sentences. “—But, she’ll look up all the Abby Bennetts there is.”

I forced a smile on my lips. “Good.”

The rain had persisted throughout most of the day, but it was mostly dry when we left the library. Dew had gathered generously on the grass as we crossed the park—a shortcut to the Grill’s parking lot. A strong gust of wind buffed about our bodies and caused the sizeable green banner in front of the Grill to flap and flutter wildly. My hands flew to my hair as it whisked my ponytail this way and that way. 

  “I hope spring will start soon,” Caroline grumbled as she unlocked her grey Ford.

  “Yeah,” I agreed and clambered in the passenger seat. “Well, at least it stopped raining.”

  “The glass is always half full in your world, isn’t it?” She smiled, and I shrugged.

Looking at it more positively is a good thing to do. I stared at the blonde vampire as she steered the car onto the road. She only had one hand on the steering wheel; the other held her phone as she texted someone. If she were anyone else — or if she was a human, that is — I would have freaked. Yet, she wasn’t human, and I didn’t freak. I did worry about other things instead. 

  “What’s wrong?” She asked, picking up on my souring mood.

  “Considering what I should tell Mom and Dad— I’m sure they’d have a litter of kittens if they knew I still hang out with you.”

  “I thought you didn’t care what they thought anymore?”

  “I don’t,” I mumbled and wetted my lips. “Can I stay with you?” I asked, the words pouring from my lips before I could think twice. Caroline threw a worried look my way, and I held her gaze for several long seconds. She averted her eyes, pursing her lips.

  “Of course,” she agreed, smacking her lips, “you know you’re always welcome with us.”

  “But—?”

She blinked several times, and the car slowed down. The street lamps had turned to life, grey dusk chasing the last of daylight. They threw Caroline’s face in dark shadows. She was still thinking, or it seemed like she was, and her hands curled and uncurled around the steering wheel. “I’m afraid, Elena. Your dad threatened my mom when he found out what I was.”

  “He wouldn’t— he wouldn’t harm her.” I stammered.

  “I don’t know if he wouldn’t, Elena, but if he tries—” something dark passed over her face. 

  “I won’t let him, Caroline,” I whispered. “But I can’t go there anymore.”

I shook my head, my heart beating loudly and breathing shallow and fast. I tried moving through the tangled emotions that twined around me. I tried to think through all the confusion that curled in my stomach like wild serpents. I couldn’t play a role anymore for people who would be willing to maim and harm something they didn’t understand. 

  “I know you wouldn’t,” Caroline assured me and wetted her lips, throwing open the car door. “Well, all the Vervain is almost gone.”

  “What?”

  “I heard mom mention it a few nights ago.” She whispered.

  “And you want to compel him?”

She nodded. “It seems the right thing to do. We can compel your parents, perhaps even Matt—”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “I don’t love love him. But I care for him. And it sucks he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“Right,” I agreed, not thinking compelling someone was the right way to regain someone’s friendship. Caroline had already exited the car, stalking up towards her house. I gave a cursory glance up and down the street before following her. Liz Forbes had appeared in the door-opening stack of papers pressed against her chest. I gave her a tired smile. At least I didn’t have to pretend that hard around her to be someone I was not. I knew Caroline’s mom had been absent most of the time, too busy with her career and work to be home all that much. I thought she might not notice the significant changes Elena had gone through. Or I hoped she wouldn’t—

To be continued...