II.
Firelight
She rushed into the spot next to Stefan's car. The short ride over to his home definitely hadn't coaxed her into any sort of calm. It was as though the more she neared her destination the more real the situation in her backseat became. Silently she chided herself for it'd had been minutes since she'd last checked to even see if her fare in the back had even turned to breathe. In truth, Elena was terrified of discovering what might be the reality. She should've brought her to the hospital.
The thought was halfway through her mind when the driver's door was flung open from its hinges. Stefan. She could breathe now for he always gave any situation clarity. His hooded eyes searched her as though looking for any apparent ailment, he then cupped her face and brought his lips to hers fiercely.
"It's not me, I'm okay. She's in the back," Elena managed to say. Then she began describing the sequential happenings up to the minute almost incoherently as he quickly disappeared to the rear door. She hadn't even heard a single footfall from him.
"Be careful," she was by now hovering over him as he reached into the back.
The seat protested audibly as his weight shuffled deeper into the interior. Quietly Elena assumed he assessed the damage, and then gently began to extract the now limp frame of the wild looking young woman.
"She's unconscious," he said softly as he settled her comfortably in his arms. "We'll have to wait until she's awake to know the extent of any injuries," he paused to feebly reassure Elena, "if there are any."
Stefan's trim physique ushered them into his home. There was a sort of urgency building up within him; something that he couldn't place which only unnerved him more than he'd like to admit. He loathed the situation, but for Elena's sake he needed to maintain a cool composure. She was visibly shaken and it seemed the slightest incident would send her crumbling. Against his better judgment he'd made light of the situation than he should have, the girl could possibly die; her pulse was so weak he could barely detect it.
"I felt like I had to bring her here. She was so terrified." Elena looked up into his murky eyes as he laid her out upon the couch. "The look, I can't describe it but I was so afraid for her, Stefan."
She turned away and began pacing. Now and again she glanced over to couch, where an apparent slumber took a hold of the girl. "She's so young, to have that kind of desperation. That primal disconnection," her hands flew up in exasperation. "I can still see it. I should've brought her to a hospital."
Stefan closed the distance between them, bringing her into his arms. "Look, don't start that up. You did the right thing by bringing her here." He smoothed her hair back and kissed her head gently. Even he wasn't duped by the sound of his "sincerity." The girl needed a hospital. He doubted there was anything substantial he could do in hindsight of turning her. Obviously that alternative was not on the table. "I'll take care of it," he looked meaningfully into her dark eyes.
His fingers deftly felt along pulse points, trying unsuccessfully to locate any indication of a spark. Despite this and an extremely low body temp, her chest rose and fell defiantly. Some force unknown to him was keeping the breath fluttering within the body before him. With her blood pressure this low she surely would seize or perhaps an indication of why she was now unconscious. Hope, string, and paste were keeping this woman together. And no matter how many times he checked her vitals there was not a change, and he was beginning to doubt there would be.
"Whoa, did I miss something here?" A nearly amused voice inquired. Damon sauntered in, surely fresh from the pits of some drinking hole of debauchery. His actions undeterred and unfazed he extracted his upper body from his jacket, throwing the soft leather over a nearby armchair.
Damon's firm lips upturned in a half-hearted smirk, "Who'd she eat?"
Elena rolled her eyes and looked into Stefan's direction. Her glower translated to: Can you take care of him? Stefan instantaneously pulled Damon aside, bringing him away from the sitting room and the front hallway. Relief flooded her body that at least she was past one hurdle.
Earlier she'd brought out a bowl filled with diluted water and antiseptic, she now stared at the ceramic basin with a renewed vigor. The blood smothering the girl's mouth gave way after a few wipes and following a once over of her entire face she looked serene, sleeping. "Who are you?" She asked to no one in particular.
Elena brought shaking fingers to slightly hover beneath the girl's nose, no breath. But at least if it merited, her chest elevated and sunk every few prolonged seconds as though in sleep.
"Please, don't die on me," it resonated through the stuffy room as an order. Elena knew if she did not make it through the night she'd take it extremely hard. If she'd only brought her to adequate medical attention there might've been an once of a possibility of some positive outcome. Although she'd been its company of frequent these past months, death wasn't a matter she could bare. There was a significant blow to her nerve, she'll admit that.
What was keeping Stefan this long? Elena rose to her feet and walked out into the hall in search of her boyfriend.
~o~
It'd been ages since she'd last sat before a blazing hearth. It brought her back to the better days where her mother made cocoa tea from scratch, with the smell of earthiness within the small mounds dispersed as they dissolved into the boiling pot. But she could wager that upon opening her eyes from this reverie that envisioned hearth would be under different circumstances.
She proved to be correct in that, as well as knowing she wasn't quite where she'd been hours before. Her vision was blurred, causing the fear to manifest into a monster and completely handicap her. She was in some foreign place, unarmed, blinded, and frightened. She hadn't felt like that in a while although she was familiar with perpetual apprehension, but what could she do in a situation as this?
Gradually, she had regained some kind of consciousness, but it still felt as though there were heavy pillows filling up her head. Her fingers felt along her body, assuring herself that she was unharmed and she was, gladly. It could be worse, she reasoned as her fingers uncertainly reached her eyes, and preparing against the pain that would surely come as she tore at the paste fastening her lids.
One, two, three… She got all the way to forty odd something before her vision cleared substantially. She was alone, good. The home was of dark wood, ornate and embodied a sort of old-world dignity, she noted as shapes and colors came into focus. But certainly she wasn't here to admire decor. Vertigo shook her to the core as she sat upright, stifling the urge to spill her guts all over the fine area rug. An exit strategy was necessary, but she knew not from where to go.
As expected, the pads of her feet were sore upon contact with the floor, and she was in far worse shape than she'd anticipated. This was not good.
The windows were bolted. To her right was a sure escape, even at this distance she could make out the subtle change in airflow, that being an indication of a door leading out, and to her left perhaps deeper into the residence. It was quite obvious the more sensible choice, but she chose to wait and to weigh the situation more in depth. Quite possibly, who had found or abducted her, she wasn't all certain, would most likely still be here. And said captor could be plural by that of two or three or more.
She investigated her surroundings further, not finding anything of utter use to her. Damn. The closest thing to a weapon she could locate small, discreet was a letter opener upon strewn about mail atop a console opposite the fireplace. There were empty envelopes with little indication of who might reside here except for an unopened missive addressed to The Salvatore Residence. She was all the way across town, what? Carefully, she fixed the letter opener at her hip using the bands of her underwear.
The home was cold, impersonal with not even a picture on the mantle to give her any clarity as to anyone's identity. Luck. She spotted a cloth satchel upon an armchair by the fireplace, which crackled tauntingly declaring the comforts of home it proffered. Within the bag there were notebooks, a single folder, and a textbook. Her dark stained-bloodied fingers sloppily sifted through the unattended items.
"Elena Gilbert," she whispered.
She thumbed through a few pages, noticing the delicate hand used to scrawl the name, which didn't ring any recollections. Great, maybe this had belonged to a victim of the Lord of the Manor, she almost doubled over in amusement at the incredulity of the thinking. Well, she did not see herself being victim number two in the foreseeable future.
"Uhh-hmmm," someone cleared their throat in a deep, sultry timbre.
A gasp escaped her, the papers and books slipped from her lap and unto the floor with a heavy flop. They both remained wordless and at their own appointed distance, each brow intent on not being the first to break their poise.
Silently, she eased to her feet.
He was by the fireplace, she'd failed to even hear him enter the room although the thick rug underfoot should've surely muffled his footfalls, but not entirely. The girl didn't want to speculate for how long he'd been an unwelcomed spectator, and this could prove yet to be a shortcoming in being aware of her surroundings which could prove yet to be in her disfavor.
He held himself in such an indulgent way it sickened her, bringing the glass tumbler to his lips and halving the dark liquid that swished about, trapped within its prison. His ice blue eyes lingered upon her, a sort of fashion of predicting a move she might exact she supposed.
Gracefully, his long, lean frame eased into the fireplace, breaking eye contact for a few seconds.
"What do you want with me?" She hissed.
His face crinkled into a sweet, boyish look of poison. There was a notion that passed through the air that he was fast growing discontented with the play of events. "I warned Stefan of Elena and her bringing in her pets," he stated disinterestedly and stepped away.
Instinctively, she knew not to trust this man.
She stared at him foolishly as he walked into the core of the room, her body turning appropriately to match his every movement, him taking a seat where she had vacated moments before. His eyes devoured what he might've seen through the almost sheer gown covering her body. Quite inconspicuously under his appraisal, she positioned herself against the ornamental armchair, it sticking into her hips and abdomen, hiding her right hip as she slipped her hand beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown, retrieving the letter opener. The thin but weighty sliver of a blade contoured awkwardly to the length of her forearm.
"Oh Elena, look who's up," he called to his left.
This might be a bluff, but corroborating his indication of another person was the steady clap of two separate footfalls upon the dark floor boards. She failed to look into the direction of the clamor, continuing to focus her gaze upon the man before her. One could easily be bewitched by his generous attractiveness, dark hair, piercing eyes but there was a hardness to him that spoke at length to the budding wildness within her. Momentarily, she looked away as the muted voices now strengthened as they drew closer. Another man, with a woman flanking him emerged from the hallway.
The half-smile tugging at Elena's mouth -the girl presumed that this was the she- died on her face as she took in the circumstances. Damon, seated coolly upon the couch and the girl with her heart in her mouth standing across from him. It didn't take her too long to suppose what might've carried on, given Damon was well Damon.
"What did you do to her?" Elena demanded, her cheeks lightly reddening with fury as she looked from the girl to the man who attempted to look nothing less of foreboding.
"What," his hands flew up and the drink sloshed gently over the brim and unto his dark shirt. "I'm not even in here five min- yes, Elena I ravished her whilst you were away." He took another sip of the drink, looking down into the crystal tumbler confused upon seeing no more drink.
"Look, Damon. Just- save it." She'd planned on saying more at length but it was inapt considering the situation at hand and the better of her calmed her monumentally. "Never mind him okay," she cooed. "Are you okay?"
The girl looked from Elena, back to- Damon, and over to the silent figure hovering offside. She demanded, "What am I doing here?"
Elena made as to motion forward, but thought better of it as the girl retreated minutely. She held out her hand, palm-side out as though to assuage the building tension. "Hey, please don't be scared. Look. I found you out near Cuttler Road, remember that?"
Stefan, vying to quickly bandage the situation spoke up. "We helped you. We don't want to hurt you."
"Yeah," Damon interjected. Without the notice of the other three he had somehow procured the decanter and was filling the tumbler with more dark liquid. "Tell that to her and the letter opener in her panties."
The girl looked stricken at being caught red-handed, how had he- never mind that. The playing field had been leveled but naturally when it came to knowing her capabilities she was not in the least daunted.
Damon continued. "Yup, Elena. She'll probably slit your throat the first chance she gets. Look at her," he jested, "I don't even think she understands English, she speaks it well enough. But you know tomato – tomahto." A half-hearted chortle escaped from him. If he were a mortal man, he'd surely be a drunken bastard by now.
"Damon," Elena called out. "Don't you think you've said enough?"
Enough of this foolishness, why should she cower defeated? The letter opener clattered across the smooth floor, calling attention to itself. "I'm going to walk out of here," she stated looking at each figure determinedly.
Stefan looked uneasily from the girl to his brother, thinking he maybe had mistaken that for some sort of challenge. The girl stood before them, no longer clinging unto the stability of the chair- what her wavering legs apparently needed. She walked forward, a stubbornness perplexing her full face. Before he could discourage any advances from Elena, she inched forward to help balance the girl's thin frame.
Impulsively he stepped between Elena and the forthcoming blow. The girl definitely had strength in her, the trance that Elena had described beforehand, he could see it now. Elena was half slammed into his side, knocking the wind from her momentarily. Naturally, he felt the tightly knitted instruction to drive his muscles forward, his lips peeled back with a snarl, destroy the threat.
"Stefan," Elena breathed heavily. "No." Her small hands unconvincingly held him back. "Please."
The atmosphere was hot, stifling. Damon reclined in the spot he was determined not to move from.
The girl, unprompted, doubled over clutching her stomach. This encouraged Elena to move to her aide. "Stefan," she smoothed away the course locks away from the other girl's face. "We need to do something. She's burning up."
"Ahh," the girl futilely needed her abdomen. "I need- uh," her breaths became labored, quick. "Take me to the hosp-"
Suddenly a screech erupted from her lips. Elena could hear the thrill beginning to bubble within her chest until it climbed up to her vocals and poured from her mouth. And so it went on for minutes. There was nothing for her to do but watch in terror as the veins of the girl's neck perturbed and bulged, the tiny blood vessels in her eyes spilling red and trailing from the tear ducts.
She turned to Stefan, "We have to get her to a hospital, now."
He shook his head in agreement. "I'll start the car and pull it around front."
The moment Stefan stepped over the threshold and out of the room the girl could no longer hold herself together, falling to her hands and knees, spilling a steady stream of blood from her mouth upon the floor. Her skin blanched three shades, her lips stretched to full capacity and another torrent of red tide came forth as Elena powerlessly held unto the weeping body now laid out upon the ground. It was as though a lifetime transpired as Elena arduously fought against flailing arms and legs.
Stefan was by her side again, taking the reins. "She's seizing."
"Damon, do something," she called over her shoulder. Elena then looked into Stefan's direction, "I know, w-we shouldn't move her. Not until it passes."
Damon with a look of amazement was fixated on his spot. "Whoa," he retorted.
"Make sure she doesn't choke on her tongue," Stefan instructed. Then another, more subdued flow of blood spilled from her lips, "Or the blood."
And there was so much of it. The gown she wore had been dyed to a light burgundy shade. It was difficult for Stefan to remain here with so much of it, and he could suppose the same for his brother as well. Damon had been right to stay clear. His nose crinkled under well practiced tutelage, at once cutting off his breath and sense of smell momentarily.
~o~
Her slight weight felt so insignificant in his arms. Beyond the scope of natural eyes he rushed out into the still night air. The cold front had passed by now and the foliage swayed in unison to the wind of the uncharacteristically warm fall heat.
"I'll get in the back so you can hand her over to me," Elena instructed. She rushed towards the rear of the vehicle but she was cut off by Damon's sulking figure.
Wordlessly, he slipped into the back of Stefan's car settling himself to receive the load.
"Wow, Damon we sure needed you yesterday." Elena managed to jibe.
Stefan passed off the girl to Damon and slid into the driver's seat. Elena rode in back with the girl and Damon.
"Well it seems that I have the quota of Nice Shit to Do left unfilled for the day." There was little amusement in his voice. His hands shifted about rearranging the girl's thighs and legs to a more comfortable angle across his lap.
The girl was beginning to come to. "You're going to be okay," Elena peered down into her face, whose upper body was cradled in her arms, "we're on the way to the hospital right now." Elena stated. "How long Stefan?"
His eyes navigated to the rearview mirror. "About fifteen minutes. And that's going over 75."
Elena's eyes closed in exasperation. Shit. She didn't need to hear that. "Hey," she tapped her face lightly. "What's your name, I-I can't keep on calling you Her." It was more so for conversational purposes, the girl's body temperature was already beginning to fall so rapidly it were as though she were holding a corpse in her arms. If she slipped away into sleep, she might not wake. Silently she pleaded with Stefan, that he may go as fast enough to quickly eat up the distance.
After some time the body in her arms began to flutter, her bloodshot eyes momentarily opening, "Sula." A final shudder rattled her body and she went limp, not even the hope for the obstinate rise and fall of her chest declared against the odds.
A/N: So I hope you like so far. I'm sort of dabbling in new fics before I hit up back the old. Backburner phase I know. I've actually been really getting into Vampire Diaries of late, it was pretty much eh for me as the first season had begun but it's progressively been great! Please let me know what you all think so far.