S: Instead, she stood, and went to find him some dry clothes. - rebekah/vaughn; rebekah doesn't run, she escapes.
S: Rebekah Mikaelson/Galen Vaughn
WC: 2209
dig up her bones,
but leave her soul alone
boy with a broken heart,
heart with a gaping hole
For awhile, she doesn't hear from anyone.
It isn't like she was expecting to. Rebekah doesn't expect anything from anyone anymore. Excluding herself. She's learned, slowly in her thousand years, to only rely on Rebekah Mikaelson and Rebekah Mikaelson only. It doesn't matter if you share blood, or memories, or even love, the only person who will be there for you in the end is yourself.
So she leaves.
Silas is known to be running around the island or wherever he is, she didn't quite understand what that ruddy professor had been saying when he was dirtying her boots. He was a liar anyways and Rebekah didn't have much of a tolerance for liars.
Rebekah decides not to return to Mystic Falls. She knows her brother will be out of his temporary prison and he'll be looking for her, as he does. He'll call her, first thing in the morning, asking his darling little sister why she hasn't found her way home yet.
But she won't answer, because the phone that has the number that he knows, was smashed and thrown off the cliff of the island before she vacated it. She didn't need a phone to wherever she was going.
The cure was gone, her brothers were dead, and Rebekah was still lonely. She had no friends in Mystic Falls. If Stefan had started his way to forgiving her, it was ruined when she snapped his neck. He had to have seen it coming. She had told him, as he told her: the curse was priority. There were no feelings, no attachments. For once, Rebekah obeyed that rule.
She still lost the cure, all the same.
It was ridiculous, to even fantasize the possibility of becoming human. Of having blood run through her veins again, to place to her hand over her chest and feel her heart beating. Rebekah had dreamed of becoming human, just as anytime she managed to find sleep in her vampire state. It was why, in her early years of being turned, the blonde decided not to sleep anymore.
She gave that rule up three weeks later, when Nik lost his temper and Elijah and Kol were nowhere to be found, and Rebekah assumed dreaming about being human was much better than laying in her bed crying, wailing for her mother.
Both options were pathetic. She chose the one with less tears. Could you blame a girl for that?
She goes to Chicago first, just to check in. Maybe Katerina Petrova would go there, too. Maybe she'd hand the cure over to Rebekah simply because for once, she had a change of heart, a chance to do somewhat good. But Katerina wasn't there and Rebekah let herself be disappointed at false fantasies.
She gets drunk and drains three humans, two males and one female. Her vision was too hazy and her mind dulled, but she had an itch that someone was trailing her. It wasn't Nik, as he would've already snatched her back to the family prison, so she let it slide and returned back to her world of bloodlust and alcohol.
The next day Rebekah leaves Chicago, eyes trailing behind her. She watches across the roads, the crowds around her, the voices surrounding the area. None were familiar so she hopped in a plane and went to England.
She fit in best with the British, she thinks.
Rebekah knows her brother has noticed her absence by now, but in a different country, she thinks she'll be okay for a little while. She's not expert on running, but she's good on escaping. The original deserved a vacation, if nothing else.
The people are nice and they don't ask questions. If they do, Rebekah compels them away. It's peaceful and easy and Rebekah finds herself in a routine by the first week. She finds a cozy apartment, shares it with a roommate who has learned to be quiet anytime Rebekah is at home. She spends time in the library and becomes fond of coffee shops, although she drinks tea more than coffee.
On the fourth day of the second week, the blonde feels as though she's being followed. It's the same creepy feeling edging up her back that she felt in Chicago, that she felt on the island. She retraces her steps and listens, listens, listens but somehow, for the first time, being an original vampire fails her.
She pouts the entire time to herself, but the next day, she's in Scotland.
It's green. It's lush and it smells wonderful and there aren't too many people. Aside from food, Rebekah's had enough with people. She finds a small cabin out in the country, the farmer being kind enough to let her stay without compulsion. He attempts to take her clothes off the next night, for 'payment,' so instead Rebekah rips all of his off and locks him in a closet, a knife stabbed in his.. ah, private area.
After that, it's silence. Brilliant, wonderful silence. She reads and listens to music and cooks blueberry muffins that taste horrible. She doesn't know why she starts baking awful muffins in the first place, but the farmer's dog seems to be fond of them. Rebekah's probably spoiled him rotten.
With a fire roaring and a book in her lap, Rebekah thinks of the fifth night of the fourth week that she has finally found peace. Then the door knocks and Rebekah wonders how the universe has managed to fuck with her this time.
She expects Nik or Elijah or maybe even one of the Salvatores. Maybe they need her to rescue Elena somehow. Because obviously, this earth is not complete without her alive. The world will not move without Elena Gilbert. Jeremy may have been her last family member, but lord, does Rebekah hope his death broke Elena into nothing.
It doesn't seem that she will find out, however, because as she needs to learn, Rebekah shouldn't expect things. Usually she's wrong.
As the rain poured over him, the hunter from the island stood in front of her door, his eyes halfway closed, the water on his eyelashes weighing them down. Rebekah can still pick out the blue.
"Are you here to kill me?" she asks, as though it is the basic and proper thing to ask.
For Rebekah Mikaelson, it is.
He shakes his head, barely. "No, lass." It is only a gruff, but it is honest, and Rebekah thanks whoever she should thank for her ability to see through bullshit. She lets the pet name slide.
She opens the door wider and moves out of the way to let him in. Over the threshold, the scent of blood fills her nostrils and she has half a mind to pounce on him now. The Hunter's Curse would only give her more time away and no one could hold her responsible for that.
Instead, she says, "You're hurt."
He nods and lowers himself into the seat she had previously been sitting in. His hand is hovering over his stomach, red seeping through the lines of his fingers. Rebekah's eyes center on it, her eyes dancing between confusion and hunger. He doesn't mention either, although by the furrow of his eyebrows, he could do without that kind of hunger.
As she shuts the door, Rebekah wonders, for a moment, what he could be doing here. It clicks, then, like it should. She was blonde, but she was smart. "You've been trailing me." She doesn't ask, she states a fact. He nods. He seems to be found of nodding.
The blonde crosses her arms, remaining in her spot from across the room. He sighs, frustration trailing through his breathe. Anybody could pick up on his agitation. She feels that it would be rude to laugh at him now.
"I- damn it," he shifts his position, like it would help the pain. "I have and I apologize for that... although, not really." Even cringing in pain, the smirk appears on his face and his eyes shine again with that blue, that pretty pretty blue.
She narrows her eyes at him.
"Normally, I wouldn't.. wouldn't dare, wouldn't bother, wouldn't think of it, but I need.. I need your help." Every word in his sentence seems to upset him, in reluctance of admitting that a poor Hunter of The Five would need a vampire's help, much less an original's. It doesn't occur how he would need her help until staring at him for a moment or two, her glare moving from his face to his gash.
"You need my blood," Rebekah assumed.
The hunter shuts his eyes in confirmation. "I can feel myself dying. I made a mistake, your brother... I made a remark or two about you-"
"What brother?" she interrupts, finally taking a few steps closer to him. When had he come in contact with her bother? If he'd been following her, had Elijah or Nik been as well?
He waves his hand in exasperation, half at being interrupted and half at the gushing wound in his stomach. "The one with the hair, he was in England. Look, we can talk about your family difficulties after you do me this favor and heal me-"
"And why on earth should I do that?" she challenges, raising her eyebrows. "If you had a chance, if you had the ability, to kill me, you would. Not a blink of the eye."
"And you?" he asks, looking up at her, "you'd do the same. You're no better than me, I'm not better than you. The only difference is that you could kill me. Aside from the fact that I'm already dying."
His accent is making her knees a little weak. Even if her accent made men fall at her feet, she couldn't help but be a sucker for them too.
(she tended to be a sucker for hunters, too)
She moves closer and falls gently to her knees, her hands moving over his to lift them from the wound. He lets out a hiss, only resisting with little force. He grips the chair's armrests, his knuckles turning white.
Rebekah comes close to draining him. But she doesn't.
She considers not healing him, letting him slowly fade into death. A new hunter would be born and he would be free of his life of killing vampire, pretending that he doesn't enjoy it. But she counters it with not knowing why he was following her in the first place, questioning him on how the hell he made it from England to Scotland with this injury, and not knowing why Elijah was following her.
After all, he's the only one who could be describe as 'the one with the hair.'
It's stupid. For a thousand year old, it's stupid. But Rebekah Mikaelson has always been weakly lonely and the farmer's dog wasn't cutting in for company.
Red veins appear under her eyes, alerting the hunter that he would going to get to live another day. He opens his mouth, his mind reeling at mentally preparing himself, of that fact that he was going to drink a vampire's blood, that he was lowering himself to everything he hated.
Rebekah goes to bite her wrist but before she does, she peers up, her eyes still scarlet red. "What your name?" she questions, her voice high and innocent and human. If he wasn't seeing the monster on her face right then, the hunter could've sworn that she wasn't a damned, soulless creature. But he knew better.
"Vaughn," he coughed out, "Galen Vaughn."
The vampire nods and in a second, her fangs tear into her own skin. Her blood pours out, the contents mixed between stolen life source and her own old self. Her skin finds the wetness of his mouth and then he drinks, and drinks, and drinks.
Vaughn's eyelids fall and his knuckles return to normal skin color. Rebekah watches with eager eyes, the fascination playing out loudly in her expression. Humans, hunters or not, had a taste for vampire blood, as much as vampires had a taste for theirs. They just didn't need it to live.
He drank until Rebekah felt his skin healing, until the blood dried on her fingertips and there was no open wound. He drank until he felt up to perfect shape and then some. He drank because he didn't know what the hell else to do.
He let go with a gasp, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. Rebekah smiled, picking up the blood with her finger and bringing it to her own mouth, sucking on it. Vaughn watched with hazy eyes and let out a chuckle. Vampire or not, the blonde she devil was certainly attractive.
"Get some sleep," she told him, making no move to remove her hand from his stomach, oddly enough. "I promise not to snap your neck. You're not good enough to be a vampire."
Vaughn's smirk returned, his head lulling onto his shoulder. "Assuring, lass," he muttered, falling asleep as soon as the word finished leaving his mouth.
Rebekah looked at his sleeping form. She didn't quite understand what had just happened. She shouldn't have healed him. She should've killed him when he appeared on her (the farmer's) doorstep.
Instead, she stood, and went to find him some dry clothes.
i don't know what this is. i wrote them while lurking through the raughn tag on tumblr. i don't think i even ship them.
but this is after the island, before the last episode where we saw elena's breakdown. or maybe during it. i don't care. it's probably a little ooc for both, but rebekah needs a vacay. it would work if she wasn't stuck with eternal loneliness. also there's probably a backstory behind why vaughn was following her and how he got the injury from elijah, but that's a story for another day. one shot? i dunno. review, maybe?