THIS STORY IS INCOMPLETE AND PROBABLY WON'T GET FINISHED IN THE FUTURE

author's notes: after watching 1x14 (Fool Me Once) i had questions about exactly how Damon and Stefan turned, and this idea struck me. the story follows the show's timeline up to that episode and veers away completely from the established timeline after that. please give my OC the benefit of the doubt, she's quite nice once you get to know her.

this story was written during my viewing of season 1, and before the Originals showed up in season 2/3. any similarities between them and my OC are purely coincidental and very lucky guesses! don't hesitate to ask me questions! i hope you all enjoy reading!

characters: Amelia (OC), Elena, Bonnie, Stefan, Damon, Giuseppe Salvatore

setting: AU from 1x14 - Fool Me Once onward

MALUM DISCORDIAE;;

chapter one

malum discordiae = apple of discord. alludes to the apple of Eris in the Judgement of Paris, the mythological cause of the Trojan War.

it is also a pun based on the near-homonymous word malum (evil).

It's not every day that she returns to the town she only visited once a century and a half ago.

When she arrives, parking her car up against the tall mansion, it doesn't feel like coming home to a memory. Memories are for humans. History is for vampires. Everything she once was here, everything she once did here, that's history to her. It's behind her, yet part of her, intricately interwoven like lines of a tribal tattoo, interconnecting now with current events.

She's always liked these small towns, but there was something Mystic Falls held – not just in the name – that few other towns around these parts possessed. Vampires had been drawn to it all those years ago, lived here among the people, and had only found their damnation. There were few people still alive today who knew how to properly kill a vampire. Though from what Stefan had told her on the phone, the vampires in that church had been dealt a far worse fate than death.

Two pairs of footsteps make their way towards the door after she rings the doorbell. She can smell they're human, even with the door separating her from them. When the door opens, a sight is revealed to her that would have taken her breath had she still been human. The girl in front of her is the spitting image of a woman she's only ever seen in pictures before.

"Amelia?" the girls asks.

Amelia stares her up and down meticulously. The resemblance to Katherine is uncanny. "You must be Elena," Amelia says.

"I know, I look exactly like her, it's amazing," Elena deadpans, the monotone inflection in her voice telling Amelia that she's being sarcastic. Amelia imagines she's heard things like that enough from Damon and Stefan. She also imagines that Elena is the reason Stefan remains here now. His scent is all over the teenage girl.

"Katherine?" Amelia still asks, because she knows how to be polite, and can tell that Elena isn't comfortable with yet another vampire in the mix. "I never met her. And I hope to God I never do," Amelia says. She knows that if she ever meets Katherine in the flesh she'll probably rip the younger vampire's throat out without giving it a second thought. And Damon would hate her for it.

Amelia smiles softly, and crosses the threshold in silence. Stefan and Damon should really do something about this free-for-all-vampires entrance.

"This is Bonnie," Elena introduces the dark-skinned girl standing next to her. "She's a friend."

"Hi," Bonnie smiles sheepishly, and extends her hand. Amelia's not used to humans acting this way around her, especially when they know exactly what she is. Still, she shakes Bonnie's hand, because she doesn't want to seem rude.

As soon as her skin touches Bonnie's, a jolt of electricity travels up both their arms, making them break the connection immediately. "A witch friend." Amelia raises an eyebrow, her interest peeked, and stares at her own hand for a few seconds. "How peculiar." She can hear Bonnie's heart rate speed up inside her chest, so she decides not to look Bonnie in the eyes again.

"Mel," she hears from above her suddenly, and she looks up towards the voice. It's been almost half a century since she's seen him, but she recognises him entirely as he descends the stairs.

"Stefan," she breathes, and opens her arms to hug him tightly. Just like earlier she noticed Stefan's scent all over Elena, she finds Elena's scent on Stefan now, much more potent because Elena is human. She wants to say something about it, but it doesn't seem appropriate with Elena there, and in any case, she has more pressing matters to attend to. "How's he doing?" Amelia asks, and looks Stefan in the eyes.

Elena is not entirely sure she likes the way Amelia and Stefan touch, looking at them now. Neither of them seems to have a problem with invading the other's personal space, while just a minute ago Amelia wasn't even looking at Bonnie.

"He hasn't eaten in two days," Stefan answers, and casts down his eyes.

The statement hits Amelia hard. "At all?" Her eyes go wide. This doesn't sound like her Damon at all. Stefan shakes his head. "Well," Amelia turns around to face Bonnie and Elena again. "I would love to get to know you, but I think—"

"You should make sure Damon's alright," Elena interrupts. Amelia finds it most peculiar – even more than finding out Bonnie is a witch – that Elena shows so much care for Damon. If she's involved with Stefan, she must know Damon and Stefan hardly ever get along.

"You miss his sparkling personality already?" Amelia asks, smiling.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying it, but yes." Elena hugs her arms around her, and nods.

Amelia can't help but snicker.

Without another word she lets go of Stefan's hands, and slowly makes her way upstairs, her heels reduced to dull thuds on the carpeted steps and hallway floor. The upstairs hallway is lined with art, but she doesn't stop to regard any of the paintings.

The door to Damon's room is open when she reaches it, and she peers inside only to find Damon lying on the bed, still as a statue. She walks into the room confidently, her heels now tapping audibly on the wooden floor. Damon catches eye of her coming in through the doorway, and rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the ceiling.

"I know," Amelia starts, and places a hand on one of the bed-frame pillars, her hips making a half roundabout turn before coming to a standstill. "You're wondering: what's a girl like me, doing in a place like this?" She grabs hold of her side ponytail, and twirls some strands of hair around her finger. There's always been a clear line between her and Damon, a precariously thin one, and they've both balanced it in the time they've known each other.

Damon doesn't move a muscle, nor does he look at her.

"You know, you and Stefan have been fighting for the past one hundred and fifty years," Amelia says, walking over to the window, staring out into the garden briefly. "As long as I've known you." She turns around, and looks at Damon. "You've broken each other's trust, you've killed each other's friends. Hell, you have as much reason to hate him as he does you."

Damon doesn't react. Amelia wonders if he's even listening.

"But never once in all those years has Stefan called in my help." Amelia takes off her leather jacket and tosses it on a nearby chair. She turns around again and sits down on the bed, her back now facing Damon.

Damon can't help but dare a glance at her. The tank top she's wearing closes at the back in three strings of fabric, revealing the tattoo on her back in full. It runs from her right shoulder all the way down to the small of her back. He's always found it puzzling, simply because he doesn't know in what time period to place it, and she had to have gotten it before she turned. He's often wondered just how old she is.

Amelia leans back on her arms, and glances at Damon over her shoulder. He's already back to staring at the ceiling. "Which means this is bad," Amelia adds.

Damon closes his eyes, and groans in complaint.

"Don't worry. I will say no more." Amelia smiles to herself. She slides back on the bed, inching closer to Damon. He finds the scent of her enchanting. "I was just basking in the fact that you boys need my help." She lies down, her head coming to rest on Damon's legs, just above his knees. "Now I'm just going to lie here with you, and not talk." Amelia closes her eyes and remains there, in silence.

Downstairs, Stefan has listened in on Amelia and Damon's one-way conversation, until the whole house goes quiet, safe for Bonnie's and Elena's breathing. He never wanted to be forced to do this, but he hadn't been getting anywhere with Damon. As much as Damon has caused him grief for the better part of the past two centuries, this behaviour was something new. And he doesn't like it.

"What is she doing?" Elena asks, while Stefan sits down next to her on the sofa.

"She's just being there for him." Stefan puts his arm around Elena's shoulder, and meets with her questioning stare seconds later. Elena is here for Damon as well, because some part of her – that Damon neither deserves nor understands – does care for him. "Amelia can reach him in a way few others can," Stefan explains.

"Why?" Elena asks, confused.

"Because she created him," Stefan answers, and doesn't take his eyes off Elena.

Elena stares back over her shoulder, up at the staircase leading to the first floor, and frowns. She'd always assumed it was Katherine who had turned Damon, but this certainly explains why Stefan thinks Amelia might be able to help. Does this mean this is the same woman that turned Stefan?

Elena's eyes don't leave Amelia when she comes down the stairs the next morning. There's something in the way she moves that exudes grace, and perhaps some hint about her age. Physically she looks about twenty-five, maybe a little younger. For a vampire – just like Damon and Stefan – she's dressed extremely modern; tight fitted jeans, asymmetric black jersey top, and boots that look like they cost more than Elena's entire wardrobe.

"Nothing?" Elena asks when Amelia finds her way into the kitchen. There's a long silver necklace dangling from her neck, finished by a silver heart, gemmed with a single little amethyst stone. Two rings adorn her left hand, one with a turquoise stone—probably the same lapis lazuli gem that was in Stefan's ring, and a full sterling silver one.

Elena dislikes how Stefan's eyes light up in a way unfamiliar to her when Amelia walks in, nor does she like Amelia looking at Stefan like she sees into his very soul. But Elena doubts she can hold that against her; Amelia and Stefan go back more than a century.

"Nothing," Amelia echoes. "I hate seeing him like this." She doesn't entirely mean that, she's just not used to seeing Damon like this. They last saw each other some half century ago in New York, staring at each other from across the room at some beatnik party. "I always figured that if someone broke his heart, you'd call me to stop him from killing the entire town," she tells Stefan, who snickers. "I never expected him to go catatonic."

"Sounds like you know him very well," Elena says, and slides Amelia's cup of coffee towards her over the cooking island between them. More and more she understands why Stefan called Amelia in for help; even after being separated from them for so long, Amelia seems to move around Stefan and Damon like they're her closest family.

"Well, there's a lot of me in him," Amelia says softly. Elena doesn't see it, simply because she doesn't know Amelia that well yet, and there is a hardness in her features Elena imagines only comes with experience. Something Damon will have a hard time achieving. Ever.

"Like mother, like son," Stefan says, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Oh, don't call me that." Amelia stares at him hard, her eyes narrowing in warning. "I'm old," she admits, "but don't call me that." She doesn't like the term anymore, not since her children had grown older than her and died. Fortunately the only one to ever call her mom now is Stefan, who only ever uses it to joke around, and occasionally Damon to rattle her.

"How old are you?" Elena asks. Amelia speaks with an accent she can't quite place. It sounds British but mixed with some Western European accent she'd have problems placing even if she knew how to distinguish between them.

"A lady never tells." Amelia shrugs and folds her hands around her cup of coffee tightly. She's learned to keep some of her secrets close to her heart, her age is one of them. "I've got to say, Elena, you surprise me. I haven't seen many humans this comfortable around vampires in a long time."

"Yeah, well," Elena shrugs. "They didn't really give me much choice." She glances at Stefan from the corner of her eye and throws him a coy little smile. Stefan smiles at her slyly. Amelia is left to staring at the both of them over the edges of the coffee mug now hovering near her lips.

"Stefan, what have you done to this young lady?" Amelia's eyes narrow conspicuously. "Not taken her virtue, I hope?" Amelia raises an eyebrow in question. Elena bites her lip and looks at Stefan, slightly panicking. What is she supposed to answer to that? Amelia laughs loudly at the sight of Elena's distress. "Don't worry, I'm only kidding. I may be old, but I'm not a prude."

Elena feigns a sigh of relief, even though part of her is truly relieved; speaking to Amelia feels like talking to Damon and Stefan's mother, and she feels as if she's supposed to make some kind of impression. A better one than Katherine at that.

The microwave suddenly bleeps, ending the comfortable silence that had fallen over the house again. Elena had to admit, without Damon running amuck, this place was heavenly. Stefan takes the steaming cup out of the microwave and hands it to Amelia; the heat of the mug doesn't seem to bother her when it touches her skin. "Do you think he'll—" Elena starts, but she's not sure how to refer to the thick red liquid in the cup without feeling awkward all over again.

"I suppose I could just force it down his throat, being stronger than him and all that," Amelia jokes, but the smile she'd intended to form on her lips fails her, just as it does Stefan and Elena. If Damon insists on not eating, she'll have to force him one way or the other. She won't let him die.

Amelia takes her time ascending the stairs this time. She can hear Elena and Stefan mumbling to each other in the kitchen, but she leaves them their privacy. When she gets to Damon's room, she leans against the doorpost and just regards him for a moment. His complexion has turned sickly and pale, but his position on the bed remains unchanged. Amelia never thought it would happen, feeling this pain for Damon, over Damon, even though he's the one she's always worried about. "Don't you just love the smell of fresh blood in the morning?" she jokes, because Damon has always been able to appreciate her sense of humour. This time around however, Damon doesn't react in the slightest.

"Oh come on, pet," Amelia sighs and walks over to the bed. She sits down by Damon's side, placing the hot steaming cup of blood on the dresser. "Work with me here. I'm only trying to help you. If you keep at this, you won't even be able to stand by yourself." She stares at Damon, unrelenting, but he appears to – once again – not be listening.

And then something inside her snaps. She doesn't have to stand for this, not being the one who turned Damon, and the one and only vampire he's ever been able to reach out to for help. She hates the ideas that Katherine had put in his head, but she couldn't help that. This self-loathing self-pitying spell he had going on now was within her power to fix.

She pulls herself further onto the bed and swings one of her legs over Damon, straddling his lap tightly, giving him no room to move even if he'd still wanted to. "I will get you out of this bed." Amelia points a finger, looking at him strongly, the only way she knows how to with Damon. If playing nice won't get her anywhere, then maybe this'll do the trick. "Even if I have to drag you out by your ears."

Damon feels Amelia's eyes burning holes in him, the weight of her on top of him shaking him from mindless thought and memories he should really put behind him. He sighs and gives up, knowing that Amelia could probably keep this up for all eternity. "Don't you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?" he looks at Amelia, the corners of her mouth turning up just the way he remembers.

"You would think," Amelia says, wriggling on top of him. It does nothing to steady his concentration. He imagines she knows that. "But no," Amelia concludes, biting down on her bottom lip as she stares down at him again. Her long bangs have fallen over one of her eyes.

"Why are you here?" Damon asks, because there's something he wants her to say. Something he desperately needs her to tell him over and over again. She hardly ever admits it to his face, but he likes to hear her say it.

"I told you." Amelia shrugs, her index finger making circles over his chest.

"Stefan called you." Damon rolls his eyes and leans up on his arms. "I don't see the problem here. I'm not making trouble. I'm not killing anyone." He would think that sat just fine with Stefan.

"No, you're just killing yourself."

"Is that so bad? I mean, no one would miss m—"

Amelia pokes his chest hard before he's finished speaking. It'll probably leave a bruise until he's fed properly. Amelia's reflexes have always been better than his. "I would miss you," she says, mock-pouting. Damon raises an eyebrow and stares at her in question. "What can I say? You keep me young, my love." But she can immediately tell that the answer doesn't satisfy Damon at all.

She gets off him in one smooth movement and lies down next to him, head propped up on one arm. "You keep me alive," she says, and sees something in Damon's blue eyes changing. It's something unique to Damon and she's never found the proper words to describe it, but it's so honest and so true that it instantly grounds her in the moment. "Thought I'd return the favour. Drink." She commands and points towards the cup on the dresser.

"Thanks," Damon says, and grins crookedly. He sits up on the bed uneasily, but manages to grab hold of the cup and chuck down a few gulps of blood. "Mom," he adds, glancing back over his shoulder.

Amelia snatches the pillow from under her head, and hits him with it.

(1864)

When she arrives in Mystic Falls, the church is already burning. A large crowd has gathered around it, watches in fascination, a lust for destruction in their hearts and hatred in their souls for those they call monsters. Who are the real monsters now? Amelia figures the vampires inside have already perished, because she can't hear any of them screaming. It's one horrible way to die, by flame, but an efficient way to rid a town of all the vampires at once.

But she's too late.

She wonders briefly if she could wander into the crowd and be recognised as a vampire as well; maybe they'd let her burn still, but just then someone's pleas break through the night sky like a beacon. She turns towards the sound, her trained eyes picking up on three figures through the trees, about half a mile away.

"Father, please!" Stefan cries, and stands between his father and his brother. He'd feared it would come to this sooner or later, that his father would confront them about their love for Katherine, that Damon wouldn't stand down even when their father threatened them with a gun. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do, son," Giuseppe Salvatore says, his arm trembling with adrenaline. He looks at his younger son. "I told you this would happen. If you sleep with the devil, you lose your soul."

Ten feet away, Amelia halts in her tracks abruptly, the dark forest disguising her presence. Did she just hear that right? Did these boys sleep with a vampire? And they were to die because of it?

"Of course. Yes." Stefan nods, hearing his father's words, but their meaning doesn't sink in. All he cares about is Damon and him walking away from this place alive. "Just please, father, put down the pistol."

"Renounce her, son," Giuseppe tells Damon, who had come here too late. By the time he arrived with his own pistol the church was already burning. He hadn't been able to save Katherine. And when his father had caught sight of him, he'd stopped him right there. He hadn't had the time to draw his gun.

"No," Damon shakes his head. "Never."

"Damon, please, he'll kill you." Stefan turns towards his brother and pleads. "Renounce her," he stresses. If that's all it takes to stop his father from killing his own sons, then Damon should listen. But when has he ever listened to anything Stefan has said involving Katherine? His brother is blinded, but he knows the same goes for him.

"Why don't you renounce her then?" Damon says, eyes growing darker. "I love her, and that will never change."

"Then you leave me no choice," Giuseppe Salvatore says, and levels his shooting arm with the ground.

Amelia acts on instinct. "No!" she shouts, all three men turning their heads to see where the sound came from.

The distraction is all Stefan needs to overpower his father. He takes hold of his father's gun, the force of the struggle sending it back against his father's head, knocking him out in the process. Stefan picks up the gun, and suddenly feels his brother's hand on his shoulder.

They both stare down at their father's unconscious body, until Damon takes a step closer, taking out his own pistol, pointing it at their father. "Damon, no," Stefan protests, looking at his brother urgently.

"He was going to kill us both, Stefan," Damon says. "He killed Katherine." Damon looks at Stefan in anguish. She's gone, he thinks, Katherine, the love of his life, gone forever. Stefan can find little to argue with. "You really think he deserves to live?"

Stefan looks down at his father again, but shakes his head. "That's not for us to decide," Stefan pleads. He looks at his brother, whose gun is still aimed at their father. "Damon, give me the gun," Stefan says, but when Damon cocks his handgun, he goes to stand between his father and his brother, again, only now he's protecting his father. "You won't harm him," Stefan says, taking aim at his brother.

"You're still defending him!" Damon shouts suddenly, taking a few steps back in anger. "After everything he's done!" But Stefan holds strong, and soon sees his brother seemingly giving up. Damon slumps his shoulders, dropping his arms by his side, and stares down at the ground.

"You're no better than him," Damon adds. He raises his head and arm without warning.

The gunshots ripple through the landscape like thunder, echoing in Amelia's chest as if it's her heart come back to life.

By the time she reaches the two young men laying a few feet apart in the grass, the younger one's heart has already stopped beating. When she looks at him she notices a fresh bite mark in his neck, and she can tell there's vampire blood coursing through his veins. The bite will heal. Soon, he will be like her.

She glances at his brother, heart barely beating, and her veins burn at the smell of his blood. He's the older of the two, and there's something about him that stirs a feeling deep inside of her.

She looks from one human to the other, and at the father she has just knocked unconscious again. They die for a woman, a vampire woman they both love. One is turning, and the other is dying right here in these woods. Brothers, bound by blood and loyalty. She decides right there to turn the other one as well.

The full moon is beaming bright over them, the paintbrush-like comet shining down on a world that has become particularly darker tonight. Amelia sits down on her knees next to the still human man in the grass, leans in, and sinks her fangs into his neck.

disclaimer: without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of the CW, Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. Amelia and all other characters labelled (OC) in the header above belong exclusively to me.