I was working on the Howl rewrite (which isn't going very many places at the time being, but I'm trying, I promise!) when I started to write this scene. At first I thought it might be the start to Howl's sequel (if I were to ever get there), but it sort went different places than that. I really like this, it's a little bit of a different style than I'm used to. I honestly don't have many plans for 'romantic' pairings as of now, but definitely keep Damon, Stefan, and Klaus in there. Who knows? I reccomend listening to Season of the Witch by Karen Elson during this chapter, it's sets the mood beautifully.

-.-

You got to pick out every stitch

The rabbit's running in the ditch

Beat me its eye to make it rich

Must be the season of the witch

The cruel storm of wind hit her like a train. She yanked her jacket closer to her chest, the soft sheep's wool tickling her chin. The chimes of the door closing reminded her of her mission, and she hastily hopped from the sidewalk into the parking lot. The wind whipped against her uncovered face and blew her chestnut colored hair in front of her eyes. A slew of curse words escaped her lips as she hurried to her car, parked in the back of the lot.

The journey was gruesome; with each step the wind took her as its victim, staining her cheeks red and causing her to stumble. She didn't let it stop her, however, as she continued to trek into the storm. It was deemed the storm of the century, and yet it hadn't even started raining. The weatherman claimed it had started from almost nowhere, but that everyone in the storm's path was to find shelter immediately if they wished to survive.

A storm that appeared out of nowhere? She knew better. Danger was coming. It would have been much safer had she been just a normal citizen to stay in the diner with the rest of her friends. But she wasn't just a normal citizen, she knew things. Terrible things.

It took all of her strength to throw open the door of her car and still manage to keep it from yanking off the hinges. She ducked inside, tossing her bag on the passenger seat and slamming the door shut with a grunt.

Fear consumed her as she fumbled with her keys. Her fingers were like butter, dropping the keys on the floor of her car and shaking uncontrollably. She tried to push it away, clenching her eyes shut and breathing slowly. It did nothing, and she quickly realized what time she was wasting, and so she shoved the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

The warning system she'd worked out with the witch included massive gusts of wind and flickering street lights. Maybe it was extreme, but she couldn't be too careful. Especially in her situation.

It was time to run.

She knew the day would come when she'd have to pack up her life and escape town. Technically she had the essentials packed for weeks, hidden in the back of her trunk underneath an old blanket and weathered hockey stick. Her parents had no idea, along with the rest of the world. On the outside she had been perfectly normal: attending school and going to pep rallies and painting her nails. In the inside she was on edge, doing her best not to tear herself from her family or to get too close.

She was driving down the old country road before she knew what was happening. The night shook around her, closing in on her headlights and engulfing her mind. Her fingers twitched against the steering wheel. It was then she realized she didn't have a destination in mind, her brain had gone on autopilot and was driving in the direction of the quaint two story home she lived in with her parents. Without a second thought, she turned on the next road.

Her mind started to wander as the monotonous corn fields surrounded her car. She thought of the sweet smile of her boyfriend, whom she had recently broken up with in case things went south and the easy tones of her sister's saxophone, which she played for hours into the night. Her stomach started to drop, two things she would never experience again. Not if she wanted them to be safe, protected. Only if she wanted to walk over their graves could she return. But June Hallow was behind her.

What was ahead of her, she didn't know.

Minutes passed and the wind began to pick up. It was only a few more when the rain started to pour against her windshield.

Danger was coming.

She drove a little faster, despite the crushing rainfall and pummeling winds. Her car would have been blown straight off the road had she taken one hand off the wheel. The intensity of the storm, danger wasn't just coming. It was aimed straight for her, an arrow about to pierce her heart. She took a second to pray to God, begging for the strength to make it through the storm. She'd ask for more strength to make it through the next obstacle if she survived. She knew better than to tempt the heavens.

Danger was coming.

The severity of the storm grew with every passing minute, had she half a brain she would have pulled over and waited the storm out. But she hadn't time for brains, only survival instincts.

Not that survival was an issue.

The thought sent a shiver down her spin, a cruel reminder of who she was.

And then, as if somehow upstairs had flipped a switch, the wind died off. The rain slowed, and she found herself in complete control of her car. Her stomach flipped again.

Danger had arrived.

Her control was gone. She didn't have time to think as her car was thrust off the road, sent tumbling into the ditch. She screamed as a reflex, but she knew it would have no use. Her fingers grabbed the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. And her car was rolling and all she could do was pinch her eyes shut and pray that it would end soon.

It did. Her car rolled right side up and she had just enough time to reach into the backseat and snag her hand around the familiar object as the door was thrust open.

It was in that moment that she received a stroke of brilliance. She slowly unbuckled her seatbelt and slide out of her car. She knew there was someone after her, someone strong enough to toss her car off the road. She just didn't know who. She peered around, but couldn't see anything in the thick fog.

The rain began to quell until just the smell of dew remained. She was trembling.

"Klaus?" she tested, her fingers closing on the vervain stake in her left hand.

"Luna," the man stepped forward from the shadows, a coy smirking growing on his face, "we meet again."

"Meet?" she hissed, her voice shaking in terror. "Meet? You just threw my car off the road! You-you attacked me!"

"And look, you're perfectly fine. No harm done, except for on that rust machine you call a car," his English accent grew stronger as he took another step forward. Luna saw the grey of his eyes twinkle in his humor. She took another step backward, stumbling on the edge of the road and falling backwards.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, hoisting her back up. For a moment she thought they felt warm, comforting, protecting. But as she looked down her shoulder and saw the cool eyes of one Stefan Salvatore pouring down into her.

She screamed, wrestling free and shuffling backwards. This time, she faced both of the men in front of her. Klaus grinned wolfishly, tilting his head to the right. "For the girl who cannot die, you look positively frightened."

Luna's breath was heavy, she tilted her chin up and said with as much confidence as she could muster, "I'm not scared of you." The words hung light in the air, floating to the ground.

A moment passed as Klaus burst into a boisterous chuckle. His shoulders shook briefly and he sent a side look to Stefan, who stared blankly forward at Luna.

"If only you meant it," Klaus cooed smartly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now are you going to do this the easy way? Or does my friend Stefan here need to remind you of the hard way?"

Maybe it was stupid of her to turn around and take off down the street, but it was the last thing from her mind as she was tackled into the pavement and Stefan's strong hand wrapped around her neck. Her nails scraped at his hand and she gasped for breath, kicking her legs underneath him.

Klaus was next to them in a second. He crouched beside her, dropping one hand to brush the strand of dark hair that fell over her eyes. "Now sweetheart, just because you can't die doesn't mean you don't feel pain. Wouldn't want you to feel too special."

Luna choked out as Stefan's grip tightened around her neck and everything faded to black.

-.-

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