Hello Readers ;) This story is my first fanfiction that I have shared with others, and was written for this past November's NaNoWriMo after my fandom hijacked all my ideas for an original storyline. Basically, its all already written but needs to be edited and have plot holes filled in, so I think updates should be fairly consistent. It's LOOOONG; rating may be changed later in the story depending on what I choose to edit out. Also, be warned, there are some TVD book-universe-isms that have integrated themselves into my story (Meredith Sulez, for example).
October 28, Mystic Falls.
For a few seconds, panic filled Adlar's mind as the heavy door wouldn't respond to his touch.
Silently, he gritted his teeth and pulled harder, letting out a pent-up sigh as it finally gave in, and he scurried in from the drenching rain. Just one of the reasons he couldn't afford to be locked outside tonight.
The soft, sandy remains of grave sand stubbornly clung to his fingers from the wet, but Adlar was too busy to care about that right at the moment—he had more pressing matters to attend to. The warlock had experienced a rough night, having come the closest he had been so far to being caught since he'd arrived in Mystic Falls four months ago in May. They wouldn't find him here though. Here he was safe, the sigils etched into the blessed wood the barn was constructed with would protect him.
Urging all the effort he could from his pale, thin frame, the young warlock hoisted his prize into the room—an armful of leg bones from a dead virgin whose grave he had dug around in—his prize for the evening, an honorable addition to the spell he had brewing for the last several months. He couldn't remember the name on the tombstone he had desecrated to get at her, and honestly he didn't care. The bones went quickly into a bubbling cauldron in the center of the room, which stirred a deep forest green color upon their addition. The cauldron, old and iron grey, had served many witches and wizards before him, both powerful and meek, and he knew it would serve him well on this final quest he was set upon.
As soon as that task was completed, Adlar wasted no time in sweeping the empty barn with his eyes, searching for anything out of place, any evidence of an observer or an intruder. He knew that the stakes were high on this gamble—he had come too far to turn back now, and if he failed at this course of his task, the punishment would be real and very severe. He could not afford to turn back, and he could not afford to fail. As his spell inched nearer and nearer towards completion, he found himself growing more and more paranoid, knowing he was finally so close.
So far, the police had seemed so comfortingly oblivious to his presence in town that it was tempting to let down his guard a little bit. However, Adlar knew that there were things far worse than police he had to worry about in Mystic Falls—unspeakable creatures of the night, things that used to be human and had somehow devolved into the monsters that everyone fears with their life late at night in the dark. It wasn't a normal town, and he knew enough about its denizens to justifiably terrify him. Even if they didn't kill him directly, it wouldn't take much deviation from the plan to surely result in his death—for his master was also not one to forgive casual errors in judgment, however justifiable.
To make matters even worse, by now his physical body was beginning to show the effects of such prolonged effort, and Adlar was a ghost of the young man he used to be. As he looked down at the skeletal remains of his hands, he knew that he would not be able to last much longer—and also understood with a morbid certainty that the completion of the spell would unavoidably result in his own death. The large quantity of magic he was using was rapidly draining his life energy, and the toll it was taking was rapidly diminishing his vigor and abilities to perform the hard manual labor that was required of him.
All Adlar needed was a bit more time…time for the potion he was working on to finally reach that bright green color that would mean it was ripe and ready. He only needed to add a few more simple-to-find ingredients, as most of the more difficult ones had already been gathered. The grimoire that contained the incantation he needed rested innocently, its ancient spine lying flat on an old oak table at the center of the room—the only piece of furniture that the old barn had to offer.
It would be only a few more days, and then his task would be complete and he would be free to rest in peace.
He was certainly ready.
October 31, 10:30 pm Sulez-Saltzman residence, Mystic Falls
Meredith Sulez had tried to leave a candle constantly burning in the window ever since she had lost Alaric, if for no other reason than the symbolic feeling of comfort that it seemed to bring her when she felt cold, lost, and lonely—like she did tonight. For her, it was a beacon of hope shining in the depth of night.
A reminder that she couldn't give up.
That suicide is never the answer.
She knew that her friends would probably disapprove of the candle as a fire hazard, but where were they on a night like tonight, when the entire Mystic Falls community was enjoying the Halloween holiday some way or another, probably most of them at a party somewhere getting drunk and having sex? It just didn't seem right to Meredith that everyone was having fun and just continuing on with their normal, happy, lives after Alaric's death without mourning him properly. Part of her hated herself for thinking that way; she knew it was selfish and that she was projecting her pain upon others, but she couldn't help that it was the way she was emoting. Her sadness was spiraling rapidly into hate, both of herself and of those around her.
Standing up and turning on her heels, Meredith shook out the soreness in her legs from sitting for so long. She picked up her cell phone that was lying on the counter with its power off—it took all of her resolve to turn it on to check for messages, and she knew that at least Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline had probably tried to contact her tonight to try to drag her in for some overly-planned elaborate Halloween get together. She simply wasn't in the mood for it, but she also knew that if she kept on ignoring her phone forever that her friends would get worried, and probably do something stupid to try to make sure she was OK.
Unsurprised, Meredith saw that she had messages (just as she suspected, from Bonnie, Elena, and Caroline—her friends were so predictable). Instead of even putting herself through the pain of listening through them all, she began to draft out a short reply, thanking them for the offers and invitations, but that it was really better for her if she stayed in tonight to rest and relax.
Hey girls sorry I'm not answering but I'm OK—just want to spend… was all she managed to get typed out before a massive sound of glass breaking came from the direction of downstairs.
The sound of pattering, scurrying feet got louder and louder, heading in her direction, as Meredith ran out to her balcony with her phone in hand, trying to simultaneously run and call for help.
To her ears, the footfalls didn't sound human, more like the click of sharp claws, like a big German shepherd dog walked on the linoleum tiles of the kitchen floor.
The first thought that came to her mind was werewolves—was it a full moon?—but why they would come after her instead of their typical vampire prey was something she couldn't explain. She dialed a number frantically, still hearing noises behind her, and was so grateful to hear a voice finally pick up on the other end of the line.
"Call me up for some fun? Finally got bored of staying locked in your room all Halloween?" said Damon Salvatore in his typical, sassy sultry voice. However, his playful tone faded into something much more determined and serious as he heard Meredith's reply, and the scared desperation in her voice as she begged him for help.
"I'm coming," he whispered into the receiver, and then the line went dead.
Nov 1st 3:00 am, Gilbert residence
I should have been used to it by now, thought Elena Gilbert sarcastically.
Yet another perfectly good three-day weekend turned miserable by the exploits of vampires in Mystic Falls. It took a moment for the realization that she was now a vampire herself to sink in and hit home, but when it did it really hurt. Her stomach instantly felt as heavy as if she had swallowed a handful of rocks. Moving away wouldn't solve this problem; no, not any more. She was sunk into this vampire business so deep now that she was drowning in it.
Just like Wickery Bridge all over again. And all over again no one is here to save me.
Elena wasn't typically the type to indulge in hard drinks—at least not alone, but tonight she was so mad at the Salvatores that turning to the bottle was the only option she could think of to help her calm down. Drink or explode. An easy decision.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed at three in the morning, her diary open in front of her, she was feeling in control for the first time in hours, if not a bit tipsy, her feelings written out word-by-word in cursive script on her lap, a vodka cocktail on her nightstand. If she could just get through tonight, then everything would be all right; she could worry about tomorrow in due time. Baby steps, she kept telling herself. One day at a time.
Except that tonight was Halloween. This was the first year she had missed going to the annual Mystic Falls high school Halloween party in recent memory; and the Salvatore brothers were precisely the reason why she refused to go, despite all her friends' urgings and that fact that she had already bought a gorgeous (and quite expensive) costume for the occasion.
Stefan and Damon, eternally struggling to win the heart of the girl they both loved, were really upsetting her this time.
It was Stefan she had asked, of course it was Stefan—it would always be Stefan—but he had denied her (the nerve!) saying some bullshit along the lines of "it was too dangerous" for her to be going out on the town as a vampire, especially when she was still so new to the gig and did not have the wherewithal to control herself yet.
As if it were his business what she did—he had no idea what she was capable of and what would make her feel better! Sitting at home alone in the dark was certainly not helping—even her friends were ignoring her calls! She had called both Meredith and Bonnie over and over again, praying for an answer at the other end of the line, but she only got a hold of Bonnie's overly cheery pre-recorded voicemail message, and Meredith didn't even bother to pick up the phone.
No one here to save me. No one cares.
Elena really felt like she could use a human friend to speak with.
Deep down inside, she was afraid that Stefan was right—that she was too dangerous to interact with her classmates—to coexist with her schoolfriends, and that made it even worse as the hunger boiled away within her belly. And not just a need for blood, but a need for contact, a need for everything to be all right again.
Of course she hadn't given up just because Stefan didn't want her to go.
She wasn't stupid.
Instead, Elena decided to just wait for his elder brother Damon to come along and ask her, because of course she knew he would.
And he did.
Predictable, as always.
The sensitive bad-boy with his heart-melting baby blue eyes came to her in the parking lot after classes today and asked. Of course she accepted! Not only because it would be a social nightmare for the high-school empress to miss all the dance activities on such a fun holiday as Halloween (or, even worse, show up dateless!), but because she really did care about Damon and wanted him to be happy. Plus, sometimes Elena believed that Damon's ideas with regards to teaching her to be able to feed responsibly on living humans was the best route for her to take (though this thought still scared her half to death). And maybe, she thought, somewhere in the back of her subconscious mind, that this would be the best way to get back at Stefan—this would be the way that hurts the most.
Suddenly she was roused from her reverie by a sharp knock at the window, noticing for the first time that massive ache brewing in her head from all the tears and alcohol (and lack of blood). She was perhaps a bit more drunk than she thought, she realized, as she staggered step by step to the window. She already knew that of course it would be a Salvatore sitting on her windowsill, trying in vain to win forgiveness and explain themselves, not realizing how fiercely angry she had become this evening.
Elena was already mentally preparing herself for an argument when she caught, for just an instant, the outline of a strange bird coming in for a landing on the oak branch reaching closest to the window. In just that quick flash she saw the clear image of a large whitish falcon-bird with dark barring on his inner wing feathers, and honey-colored markings on the top of his head that resembled a helmet. What she did not know was that ordinarily falcons never hunt at all during the night, and that this particular species of falcon was a rare and magnificent European species known as the Saker, but she gazed at the bird in wonderment and surprise as its image blurred and changed into Elijah Mikaelson.
She wasn't really surprised, because she knew that Damon could shift his shape into a crow, but she had never before seen Elijah in an animal form. He rapped on the window again with his knuckles, even though he no longer needed to be invited in to Elena's and could have forced his way into her room as easily as a gold medal athlete breaking a cheap child's toy. Elijah Mikaelson would never do that though, he was far too polite; a surprising quality in one of the deadliest and strongest vampires in history—an Original.
At this point in the evening, nothing was going to phase Elena, and she opened the window casually and invited him in with a gesture.
"What are you doing here, Elijah?" she said, her words obviously slurred.
"You called me," he said calmly, holding up his cell phone in one hand, an expression of gentle concern and patience on his face. "Are you alright?"
She looked back towards her bed for her phone before realizing it was in the back pocket of her pants, the keypad was unlocked.
"It was a mistake, the number must have dialed accidentally. I'm fine."
She locked eyes again with him, and the two shared an awkward silence before Elena continued again, this time accusingly, "Did Klaus send you here to check on his precious doppelganger?" The thought that she was no longer of use to Klaus as a vampire didn't even cross her alcohol-addled mind.
Elijah's eyebrows went up, and his pale face darkened at the mention of his younger half-brother.
"No, actually I haven't seen him this evening. It seems he despises showing up dateless to parties just as much as you do. I came because I was worried," he continued, with emphasis on the word I. "I heard about what happened with Stefan and Damon."
Her eyes rolled, as if the mention of their names at this time was actually making her physically sick. "So I take it the entirety of Mystic Falls knows by now."
"Only those with knowledge of the vampires, as far as I know."
Elena sighed with resignation. "What should I have suspected; it's not like Caroline was exactly good at keeping secrets."
"She was at the party, of course. With Tyler. Stefan and Damon were there too; looking for you, I suppose. I don't believe that either of them thought that you were capable of staying away from a Halloween party."
"They were alright?"
"Yes, at least outwardly, but you already know that vampires heal quickly. Do you mind?" said Elijah, his voice as always quiet and refined as he gestured towards her bed.
"Sure, take a seat," she asked, overcome suddenly with a curious inquisitiveness and wanting desperately to forget all about Stefan and Damon for the moment. "Elijah, were you at the party with anyone?" She found it odd that such an attractive man as Elijah never seemed to get too close to the lady-folk.
"Just to supervise Rebekah. She went with Matt."
Oh Elijah… Always the protective older brother. Though she did find it quite comical that he thought his thousand-plus year old younger sister would be in need of supervision at a party. If you asked her, Elena thought that Rebekah was more than capable of protecting herself, and inflicting some serious damage in the meantime. She hoped honestly that Rebekah would tread gently with Matt. If only she were as well mannered as Elijah. Elena's gaze returned to Elijah; she found herself suddenly drawn to him, to his finely-chiseled features and delicate nose, and wondered again why Elijah didn't seem to have a love-interest.
As far as Originals went, Elijah was a class act, and at this point, Elena was up for anything she could think of to get back at Stefan and Damon.
She leaned closer towards him, tears starting to flow again unintentionally, the wall of emotions, already weakened by heartbreak, hunger, and alcohol, and now baffled by the presence of another man in her room—on her bed, for that matter—was beginning to break.
"Elena, you're drunk," said Elijah calmly, trying to comfort, embracing her back in a tight hug. He wanted to help her out—his feelings towards her were powerful and complex—but he did not want to put her in a more difficult position than she already was. She was already in enough of a problematic love triangle between Stefan and Damon, and the addition of a third player would only make things so much worse. So he fought of his own rising lust and held away her intended kiss, but kept her in his embrace, his face close to her neck. He could smell her perfume—lilac and honey—and she, starving, could smell the alluring odor of blood pulsing through his carotid, and with each passing second it became harder and harder for her to resist the urge to bite in.
Elijah could feel her sharp-canines for just an instant against the soft skin of his neck, and in that moment he understood what she wanted and needed from him. He offered up his neck willingly to her lips, but Elena felt a pang of hesitation and backed her lips away, remembering the expression on Stefan's face when he found out she was blood-sharing with Damon. So she restrained herself and instead Elijah felt just her kiss, gentle and reserved, on the side of his neck.
It was at that moment, when Elena decided to give in, that the glass on the window shattered.
