A/N: Y'all, I'm alive. Yeah. First off, a huge apology. I'm rubbish at regular updates (obviously). Truth is, ever since I posted the first draft chapter, I have been writing this story, just not the chapters. I have two other stories I have also been working on. However, this was already half-written so I have finally come to edit it and post it. I'm a bit picky so I might re-edit again.
A massive thank you for the great response; for all the favourites, follows and even those who just read. It means the world! Thank you BrookeWorm3, LunaAndAsh, Lily black night, Annie, lightwalnut64, KateKat1992, cocobyrd87, Ketsueko, time-twilight and SakiHanajima1 for your lovely support. Thanks, Ketsueko for correcting my German. Much appreciated.
WARNING: There will be eventual, minor Elena Bashing, as well as Damon Bashing. Don't get me wrong, I like them for the most part, but this story is from the OC P.O.V and therefore, the characters are seen through her eyes.
*Important notes for everyone: This fanfic is not a Self-Insert. It is also not a story in which the OC is a twin of Elena or her family member of any kind. It is not a story in which the OC is a doppelgänger either. And it is not a story in which the OC was originally from Mystic Falls, moved away and now is returning (and thus is not already tight-knit with the Scooby Gang).
This will be a long-fic, so don't expect things to be explained off the bat.
I have characters with distinct accents and I'm trying to convey those accents without exaggerating. English is not my native language so bear with me (including writing errors).
- Unlike my original plan for a Kol/OC pairing, the choices are now between Kol and Klaus (there will be NO triangle, I hate those). I guess the pairing will depend on where this goes, and maybe your preferences. Sorry to Klaroline and Klami fans (like myself), in the eventuality of this fanfiction becoming a Klaus/OC. As for the rest of the pairings, we'll have a chat about that later on.
- The last thing is: regardless of my original plans, this story now begins a few days before S1, and it will follow S1 timeline. I think it's a great introduction so that things won't fall from the sky once Elijah and the Originals makes an entrance. This story is not a rehash of the show where the OC just watches. However, it is not a change-everything-and-save-everyone story either. There will be an independent plot that accompanies the canon plot and there will be divergences. This also means that OCs will be introduced, and even some supernatural world changes/additions (nothing related to vampires, that will remain unchanged).
*Notes for readers who read the original draft: While this chapter is quite similar to the draft, I'd advise you to read it anyway. And I changed my OC's name because I had originally picked up my character from Fear of the Dark Verse and used it in this story. However, as the story and character evolved towards a different path, it felt wrong to have different characters with the same name.
All the rant done, this chapter and the following are an intro, and the third chapter will be the beginning of season 1. I hope you have the patience for it, as I don't want to rush anything.
DISCLAIMER:
I do not own The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, or their original characters, plot and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image. I do own my OC's and plot.
Enjoy!
Faceclaims:
Anastacia Holt - Luca Hollestelle
Elliott Holt - Harry Lloyd
Peter Morgan - Timothy Olyphant
"- How long is Forever?
- Sometimes, just one second."
CHAPTER 1: Welcome to the Jungle
"Holding hands, skipping like a stone on our way to see what we have done.
The first to speak is the first to lie.
[...]
Bite your tongue; swear to keep your mouth shut.
Ask yourself, will I burn in Hell? Then write it down and cast it in the well [...]
Fan the flames with a little lie, then turn your cheek until the fire dies. The skin it peels, like the truth, away. What it was, I will never say…
[...]
Holding hands, skipping like a stone.
Burn the witch, burn to ash and bone." - Burn the witch, Queens of the Stone Age
August 28th, 2009
Car trips.
A car trip meant different things to each person. A joyful time or an excruciating ride. Whichever way, a car trip signified normalcy. A mundane activity meant to take you home; or anywhere (normal).
Not for her. (Never for her). Mundane wasn't a word in her dictionary, never had been. (Probably never would).
She had lived her entire existence as anything except a normal girl. Sure, she had experienced a sense of prosaic lifestyle. But it was never the main act in the 16-year-old-long sideshow that was her life.
This journey was supposed to have been a fresh, apple pie start, where she would live a white-picket-fence and supernatural-free life (as much as it was possible for her, in any case), and her dilemmas would consist of university applications, working hours, and mortals. The rest would be history.
Instead, much to her chagrin, there she was; wishing it was a hallucination.
Staci rested her forehead against the cool glass, landscape blurring into hues of dark blue and green, splashed by orange tones of the late sun. Her sweaty palm tugged on her stifling t-shirt collar; it felt like it tightened with each ticking minute, the tension escalating. Under her, the vinyl seat clung to her sundress-clad skin.
She reached a lazy hand and rolled the window down a bit and a breeze filtered in. A flash of wood caught her eye and her stomach churned in anxiety. Why couldn't this be a boring car trip? Why.
Staci sneered at the passerby 'Welcome to Mystic Falls' sign and faced her uncles. "Have I told you that moving here is the worst idea you two have ever spawned?"
Peter, lounging on the passenger side, halted mid-flip through a scientific magazine, muttering something that sounded like 'here we go again'.
"You might have mentioned it one too many times," Elliott heaved an aggravated sigh, poking the off button of the radio. His once neat, raven-black hair was sticking out everywhere; a stark contrast to his usual-but-not-at-the-moment composed stance.
"And you've clearly listened. Your hearing seems to be, ironically, declining with age," Staci retorted, eyes rolling upwards before glowering at the unsuspecting trees.
From the corner of her eye, Peter turned in his seat, his coffee-brown eyes kind and sympathetic. "C'mon kid, I thought you're glad to leave Europe behind."
Peter had always been more impatient, yet it seemed that where she was concerned, they switched roles. Elliott was quick to lose his calm whereas Peter handled her just fine, as though he'd been dealing with teenagers all his life – mortal and immortal.
"Plus, I was convinced she liked small towns," Elliott grumbled, the English lilt accentuating his annoyance.
"I am," she confirmed Peter's statement and shifted her petulant scowl to the back of Elliott's head. "And I tolerate small towns. I agreed to live in one, but of all the small towns in America, you had to pick a supernaturally unstable one."
"Now look, we all needed a change of air, a break from big cities. I got a job here, so we reckoned it's worth the try," Peter placated, glancing at Elliott. "It's a temporary situation. Till graduation, 'kay?"
That's two years!
"Sorry, my mistake," she plastered on a derisive smile. "I had no idea ill puppies and kittens were exclusive to Mystic Falls. Why not move to Louisiana, Uncle Peter? Or Boston. You can get any job you wish."
Peter's head jerked up and his brows furrowed. "I ain't gonna compel myself a job, Stace," he said it as though the very notion was preposterous.
"Of course you aren't, silly me. It's not like I'm encouraging you to rob a bank, it's just a job –"
Staci swayed right at the sudden swerve of the car off the road and Elliott killed the engine. "Enough," he ordered, whipping around in his seat, his face lines crumpled and strict. "Please be done with the angsty-teenager attitude."
"Hello," Staci waved a hand, unhelpful. "Teenager over here." All right, she was being childish. And whiny. (Hadn't she been like this for days?)
Elliott shot her an unimpressed look. "Usually not so ill-tempered. –", "The jetlag is getting to me –", "– For days, you have been complaining about moving to Mystic Falls yet you have neglected to tell us why," Elliott's left eye narrowed at her. "And donot interrupt me."
"Sharing is caring, kiddo," Peter sing-sang in his southern drawl, ignoring her grumpy uncle and picking up his discarded magazine as though sharing a conversation about the weather.
Staci gaped at the pair of them and flung her arms up. "I thought it was obvious!" A frustrated heat clawed up her face and her nostrils flared. She doubted they weren't aware but if they wanted her to say it, so be it. "You two are the bloody reason."
Silence, gloomy and uncomfortable.
Her uncles exchanged an inscrutable look and Elliott locked his hazel eyes onto hers, softening into an affectionate gaze.
"Staci, I understand you are concerned for us, but you need not be," his dimpled smile relaxed her shoulders a fraction, yet did nothing to quell her twisting gut. "Mystic Falls has been quiet since 1864."
"Why do you think that is?" Staci pressed. "What makes you believe they don't have some dodgy, secret society that handles the supernatural? It's no innovation. I bet they lurk around every corner, itching to vervain some vampires or burn a nice witch at the stake."
Peter chuckled. "Paranoid much?"
"Paranoid? I contacted Abraham Stark about how you were dragging me here –", "We are not dragging you anywhere –", "– listen to his reply," Staci fished her mobile phone from her jeans pocket and retrieved the e-mail Mr Stark had sent. She read the information aloud, mixed with a bunch of German words she had needed a translator to decipher. Her uncles had interrupted her twice before she was able to finish.
"Oh, and he said, I quote, 'Go easy on Elliott, the guy ist Alt und he has given up on his undead life. No wonder, Peter ist insufferable. Elliott must have decided MF would be the ideal Place to get himself staked'."
"I am not old, I'm refined."
"I ain't insufferable."
"Well, love, –"
"If you finish that sentence, Elliott Holt, you're sleeping in the dog house."
"We do not own a dog house –"
"Then I'm borrowing one from work."
To be fair, Elliott was only thirty-one... times a lot. In terms of vampire age, Peter was the youngest; however, he'd transitioned at forty-seven. She wasn't sure what Elliott's problem with age-jokes was, honestly, if anyone might feel bothered, it'd be Peter.
Staci arched an eyebrow even though her uncles weren't paying her attention. "Are you ninnies done?" Her lips curled into an amused smirk against her will. Those two had the uncanny ability to bicker in the midst of a serious conversation. No, hold on, I'm mad at them. "Oi! Have you been listening to me?"
"Yes," they chorused.
…Creepy.
"That is why we have our ground rules," Elliott reminded in a fake-cheerful tone before becoming solemn. "Beware of whom you trust, stay on vervain at all times and respect curfew during full moons. We follow those rules, we will be all right."
Staci opened her mouth but Peter clasped her hands and squeezed them, giving her the paternal smile that was mostly seen on Elliott. "Stace, we've taken the necessary precautions to live here. We got our witchy-protection mojo, we know whose attention ain't welcome and we've our favourite witch watching our backs. We couldn't be in safer hands."
"You put a dubious load of faith in my skills, Pete," she said, managing a rueful smile.
"My faith's well placed, kid, we both know that," Peter winked and grinned at Elliott, patting his shoulder. "Eli's been doing this for centuries if you gotta trust somebody knows what they're doing, trust him."
Staci searched Elliott's vibrant, green eyes. It was there, the familiar glint that served as one of her life pillars, the fierce assurance that everything would work out. She was safe.
Breathing out, she nodded slowly. "All right... I'll give it a go," her smirk returned, a little more devious. "After all, Elliott is old, and old people have life experience. Or, is it death experience in this case?"
Peter burst into hysterical sniggers, but Elliott's left eye narrowed, undecided of whether to zero on her or her other uncle. "This is wholly unamusing," Elliott restarted the engine and drove along the empty road.
"Sheesh," Staci teased interspersed by cackles. "You have the sense of humour of a rock."
"Let us see how humorous it will be once I have grounded you."
"You can't, I haven't done anything."
"Aside from pitching an incessant fit," Peter noted.
Elliott tsked. "I will say. When I was your age, my father would seal me in a Lord's stables, working until I was so fatigued that my tongue was too numb to complain."
Elliott's voice was devoid of emotion. Was he nostalgic or melancholic? He seldom spoke of his family (her ancestors), and when he did, they were ambiguous memories.
"Sounds lovely…" Staci mumbled, uncertain.
Peter's dark eyes flitted between Staci and Elliott. "I can lock her in the dog house with you."
The air loosened, Peter's light-heartedness elicited giggles from Staci. "I'd rather sleep in the freezer, thanks."
"What is this, gang-up-on-Elliott Day?"
Staci's cheeks hurt from trying – and failing – to suppress her laughter. "No, that's tomorrow."
Elliott gestured in the general direction of the blue cooler tucked under Peter's seat. "If you are going to bully me, be a darling and fetch me a blood bag, will you? I need strength to endure your antics."
"Sure, toss me an apron and uniform, why don't you."
Staci leant over her the large, snoring Doberman and opened the cooler. She sifted through the bags, a disgusted down-turn on her lips, and then plucked out two crimson-filled, plastic containers. Staci inspected them for a second. "O positive or AB negative?"
"AB," Elliott held out his hand where she dumped the bag and threw the other one back. Staci closed the lid and reclined, fidgeting in her seat. It earned her a bothered growl from the snobbish Doberman, who stretched and invaded her personal bubble.
I'm good enough to play make-shift bed, but not to be liked by the gigantic flea-bag.
Staci nudged Lucifer away but he bared his teeth in a savage snarl and she flinched back. Her jaw clenched and left eye narrowed at the devil in disguise. She liked animals as much as the next person, but this dog was evil. From the day they'd met, it was hatred at first sight. He had thwarted any and all of her endeavours to connect with him. Eventually, she'd given up, preferring to keep all her limbs intact.
She peered down over her nose, equally snobbish. "Yeah, Luci, the feeling's mutual."
A/N: So, how was it? I hope you liked it. Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think of it. Any feedback is welcome as long as it is constructive. If you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.
I'd just like to point out, that I have used German words amidst the chapter because Abraham Stark is German, and I will continue to do so. I will leave the translation on the ending A/N for those who do not understand. I am no pro in German, so if there are mistakes just let me know.
Translation:
Alt = Old
ist = is (no, it was not a grammar mistake on my part)
und = and (again, it wasn't a mistake)
Till next time,
Hallee.