A/N: New chapter, albeit a bit shorter. Thanks for reading, for the follows and favs.

So, I said this wouldn't focus on OC/Scooby Gang relations, but there are bound to be interactions.

This chapter we have Staci/Stefan. I haven't written much of Staci and Caroline because I feel like Caroline, having her own friends, would be welcoming to Staci as she is a social butterfly, but not go out of her way, even if Staci is the new girl. Plus, pre-vamp Caroline was rather shallow (she did get slightly better after dating Matt; I love Caroline anyway), so I don't see Staci connecting with her yet despite enjoying her company. As for Elena and Bonnie, I think they'd be nice to Staci but not give her much thought (yet...)

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.

So last chapter Staci urged Stefan to meet with her... Here we go.

It follows the timeline of episodes 2 and 3.

Enjoy!

Faceclaims:

Anastacia Holt - Luca Hollestelle

Elliott Holt - Harry Lloyd

Peter Morgan - Timothy Olyphant

Jude Ashford - Alexander Calvert

Holly Fairchild - Tiera Skovbye

CHAPTER 4: Bleed it out

September 9th, 2009

Tick. Tack.

Staci bit down on her crunchy toast and stole another fleeting glance at the clock hanging above the bar. Hadn't the pointer been hovering over the same pointer ten minutes ago?

Tick. Tack.

Her fingers clenched her teacup so hard that her knuckles whitened. Her heart hammered in her chest, for sure overlapping the rhythmic tune of lively chatter, clanking dishes and the sounds of the coffee and blending machines.

She'd tossed and turned all night, mulling over the situation.

This wasn't her first assignment, by far. Granted she had never been alone, she had investigated disappearances and 'animal attacks', and performed the tasks attached to them. She had staked a vampire before, too.

Tick. Tack.

However, Stefan Salvatore's record was bloodier than Elizabeth Bathory's bathtub. Thus her anxiety level was a tad over the norm. His brother, Damon, wasn't far behind, either.

In retrospect, she should have brought one of her uncles along. But this was her task.

She was not an ankle-biter anymore.

Tick. Tack.

Staci glanced at the clock again and a relieved, yet irked sigh whooshed past her lips, unbidden. It was after eight-fifteen; History class was soon to begin.

Stefan Salvatore wasn't coming.

Staci downed her hot tea and finished her toast. She slumped against her seat, the tension seeping away from her rigid shoulders and back.

Although she took comfort in his absence, annoyance was quick to trump all over it. That Patrick Verona-wannabe was a no-show.

Staci frowned at the folder lying beside her empty cup. Had it been her fault? Perhaps she shouldn't have verbal-ambushed him. What if he hadn't met her to prevent exposure? Had Stefan doubted how much she truly knew about his nature and thought that by not coming, he'd be eliminating whatever theories he thought Staci had?

Whichever the reason, it mattered little.

Staci swiped the file into her backpack, tossed money on the table and walked out of the grill, marching towards school with purpose.

If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.

Tick. Tack.

Staci had expected Vicki Donovan's attack the previous night to be on the tip of the high students' tongues. Instead, it was like most of them had already forgotten it. Like they had ingested an overnight potion to quell yesterday's ruckus and it'd had the side-effect of memory-wiping.

After combing through the school in a rush, Staci had caught up with Matt and fallen into pace with his trek around the school grounds. He was more invigorated than he had been at the hospital, but there was a fatigued edge to his words and a wary strain in his body.

It had been accorded between them that Vicki had been drunk and imagined her fanged attacker. Staci had wanted to ask about his parents but figured they didn't know each other that well to pry further.

"Hey, Matt, wait up!" A female voice called as they rounded into the front of the school. A second later, Elena Gilbert's slim frame emerged beside the blonde quarterback.

Matt squared his shoulders, a small, adoring smile playing on his lips.

"Hey 'Lena, what's up?"

Elena offered a fusion of a sympathetic smile and a contrite grimace. Her brown, doe-eyes flickered between Matt and Staci before resting on the blonde.

"How's Vicki doing?"

Staci tuned out of the conversation between the two long-date friends, excusing herself half-heartedly, and scanned the courtyard.

Her eyes spied Stefan Salvatore sitting on the top of a picnic table.

His curved back faced her and there was a book in his hands. But he was rather conspicuous as he wasn't even looking at it – his upward tilted head and stock-still poise betrayed him. Stefan Salvatore was eavesdropping.

She might as well seize the chance while they were surrounded by witnesses and corner him before she cowered altogether.

Staci inhaled a bracing breath, strode over and whirled to face him. Stefan reeled back as if slapped out of a trance, startled forest-green eyes scrutinised her, a deep crease on his forehead.

"What's eating you, Salvatore?" Staci ventured, aiming for playfulness.

It didn't work. Stefan's permanent frown-lines deepened almost into a puzzled scowl.

There was a pressing, brooding weight, invisible, shrouding his shoulders like a cape; leeching his essence.

His forest-green eyes, a similar shade to Elliott's yet vastly distinctive, were stormy. As though he was fighting every emotion within him and chaining them to his soul at the same time.

Afraid to let them go, and yet scared to grant them full command.

"Nothing…" he said, slow and hesitant. "Can I help you?"

Staci etched a faux, coy smile onto her lips. "You didn't show up to the Grill."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Stefan's disposition was the picture of gullible confusion.

Her smile fell like cut strings. "Please do not insult me by feigning ignorance, Salvatore."

She didn't give him a chance to reply and coerce information out of him. "Say, you seem to be cuddling up to a mundane life in town. Pray tell, then, why would you bodge it by attacking Vicki Donovan and killing the couple and those campers. Especially when your slate has been… clean for a few decades."

Stefan's eyes flashed in alarm. "How do you know?"

The question, while vague, was crystal-clear to her. "I asked you a question first."

"It wasn't me."

"Really? Your history says otherwise. Somebody's been a bad vamp over the century…"

Staci extracted the English version of the file Elliott had typed for her and handed it to a cautious Stefan.

His eyes dashed across the pages dedicated to his person and his brother. Stefan's frown deepened further than regular limits.

When he made to flip another page, Staci snatched the file from his hands with little shame.

She attempted to channel Elliott's diplomatic, no-nonsense voice, the one he reserved for conflict of any kind, and cleared her throat. "The rest isn't for your eyes, Salvatore. Sorry." She wasn't, really.

"How do you have all this information?" Stefan gawked at her, shooting his questions untamed. "About me, my brother, our past? Are you with the Founders' Council?"

Staci snorted, climbed on the picnic table and plopped down next to Stefan, not missing how Matt and Elena Gilbert (now graced with her back as well) were eyeing the pair with curiosity.

Tenacity exploded in her chest and Staci drew herself to her full height, levelling her eyes to his. Her earlier fear had subsided into dull prickling on the tip of her fingers and toes.

There was something encouraging about Stefan Salvatore in spite of his prudent stance.

He could have made a move to intimidate or frighten her. He could have threatened or taunted her, toyed with her human-self as most vampires were so fond of.

He hadn't.

Stefan remained seated, albeit stiff as a stick, with semi-open body language and a newly formed receptiveness in his forest eyes.

The monster described in the file Abraham had sent, wasn't there. It was nowhere near the surface and Staci spotted no trace of it lingering underneath his eyes. (But she knew it was there, dormant.)

"I'm not with the Council. Ever heard of Witchers, Salvatore?"

Stefan stowed his pretence reading material and angled to fully face her. "I – yeah, in passing. I thought they –"

"Weren't real? Right, no. Super real. And I must confess I'm impressed you managed to evade them while in Ripper-mode," Staci admitted lightly and parted the file in the 20's section of his life. "Although, you didn't, not truly. You were darn lucky, you know? They tracked you down in the 1920s, were a hair's breadth from staking you. This Alexia person cut a deal with them. Claimed she'd keep you on your vampire-toes. Then you relapsed."

Staci scrunched her nose in contemplation. "I think they regret ever giving you a freebie. Next time they pinpointed a substantial location, you were on your best behaviour." She averted her eyes from the clear blue sky and gauged Stefan.

He swallowed in thick, fidgeting with his daylight ring; a lapis-lazuli bulk of a stone with a prim carved 'S'.

"Is that what you are, a Witcher?" The air encircling them was dense with Stefan's discomfort and a twinge of sympathy wrung in her guts.

"No."

"Are you working for them?"

"Nope," Staci popped the 'p'. "With them."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Stefan looked away and wiped a hand down his temple and cheek. "It wasn't me; the attacks, it was my brother. I'm not on human-blood diet, animal only," Stefan mumbled, not meeting her unwavering gaze.

"Poor Bambi," Staci grimaced, a genuine sadness washing over her. Better animals than people, though. Inside, she was celebrating the tiny victory. Stefan had confirmed her suspicions. Damon Salvatore was the perpetrator. "I'm calling it in," she announced, even if she didn't owe him anything.

Stefan's eyes bulged out of his head. "Please don't! If what I've heard is true, the Witchers will kill him."

"Yes, I know. That's their job –"

"He's my brother, I will handle him," Stefan pleaded, desperation colouring his voice.

Staci did not yield. "I'm sorry, it's non-negotiable. For the past five decades, he's been on the blacklist."

Stefan's muscles contracted in a visible effort to exact control. Staci narrowed her eyes and inched back, unsure whether he was smothering the urge to throttle her into compliance or fall on his knees and beg.

"Please," his shining green eyes bore into her amber-brown ones. "Damon's here to make my life hell. I will handle him, I promise."

Staci froze as the realisation dawned on her and she managed, by a fraction, to stomp on the glee that gurgled in her stomach.

Her silver conscience whispered in her right ear that while this was a golden opportunity to dispose of another vampire that gave the species a bad name, Damon was Stefan's brother, too. His family.

Her red conscience countered in her left ear, that this was a personal quarrel hence none of her bloody business in any case.

She was itching to succumb to the latter, she concurred wholeheartedly.

Perhaps there was a way to compile it all. Tobias had given her permission to decide the course of action based on her conclusions.

Staci shook herself out of the reverie.

Stefan's heartache seeped through his eyes and tugged on her heartstrings. He was doing this for his brother, his family. Staci respected that, admired it.

"All right," she inhaled long and slow. Hope flitted by his green eyes. "I speak for the Witchers, now. We will allow you to manage your brother. However, should you fail to leash him, Witchers will interfere."

Stefan's lips curled up in a quasi-smile as he nodded once. "You have my word."

The sheer relief Stefan displayed was sufficient to convince her and elicited a soft smile from her.

"Are you scared?"

Staci started at the abrupt switch of topic.

"Of me, of us," Stefan clarified.

Was she? No… not right now. Cautious? Very. Hence the public places she'd chosen for their conversation. "I did not invite you to the Grill to sip milkshakes, Salvatore."

"It was brave of you to confront me, but stupid, too," he examined her with questioning eyes as if searching for a clue. "If it were me behind the attacks, I wouldn't have hesitated to kill you."

She barked out a short, impromptu laugh. "Trust me, I am well aware of that. Oh, Salvatore. I never suspected you," the m.o was unlike him, less… macabre. "No, I needed you to corroborate your brother's errors."

"Why not just go and kill him? And me, as well?"

"Witchers are hunters and protectors, not barbarians. Your humanity is on and you are hurting no one." Staci peeked over Stefan's shoulder. Matt and Elena Gilbert were gone. "On that note, you should rush to the hospital and compel Vicki Donovan, She remembers."

Stefan was gone in a flash.

A weight heaped in the pit of her stomach. Compelling people was wrong, no matter the reason. Messing with people's heads was not something one should ever take lightly. But the secrecy of the supernatural was a priority when under such circumstances. It had to be done. Vicki had been too terrified not to blab.

Staci banged her locker shut and slammed her back against it, glowering at the screen of her mobile phone. She had emailed Tobias about the status of the situation hoping that now it had been dubbed a personal matter, she would be discharged. But no. Her scowl aggravated at Tobias' formal reply followed by his personal response.

We will not interfere unless things get out of hand and the Council is incapable of showing the same competence exuded in 1864. Please monitor and keep us updated.

(Thanks Stace, I owe you big time.)

September 10th, 2009

The starry sky twinkled down on them, matching the fairy lights decorating the trees; the light September breeze tousled her chest-length hair.

Her eyes roamed the clusters of people speckling the dimly lit town square for any familiar face. One in particular.

Staci tucked a strand over her ear and turned to her uncles. "I'm going to… mingle."

Elliott spared her a knowing, tight-lipped smile. "You ought to invite that boy over for dinner."

Staci rolled her eyes with a fond smirk. As cordial as it had sounded, she knew better than to eat it up as a mere good gesture. It was a blatant, yet polite ruse for her uncle to scrutinise and intimidate what he deemed to be a threat of the male species.

Peter, ever the cool uncle, scoffed in thinly-veiled amusement. "Lay off Eli, they're teens. Let her experience life," he said as though that justified everything.

"He's a hormonal teenage boy."

"She's a hormonal teenage girl."

"He's older than her."

"You wanna talk age? You're older than me –"

"It is hardly the same. Besides, I am not older than you when considered –"

Staci muffled a chortled at the commencing verbal-spar between her uncles. Lucifer sat in the middle of the two, head snapping back and forth.

She glanced over her shoulder and stepped back, one foot behind the other, until she was at a fair distance to scurry away. Her uncles had plunged into a discussion regarding age. Elliott would draw blood.

Staci dove into the horde of candle-holders. Where could she attain one of those?

"Staci!" Staci jumped at the sudden, tight side-embrace, losing her balance. She steadied herself on a radiant Caroline. "Glad you came. Here," the blonde thrust a slender candle into Staci's vacant hands.

"Thanks, Caroline," Staci smiled at the smooth, white wax. "Light it for me, please?"

"Sure, come with me," she sang in her confident, bubbly tone. Caroline's cerulean eyes drifted beyond Staci's shoulder and her grin morphed into a sly smirk. "On second thought, you stay right here, yeah? See ya at the kick-off game!"

She sauntered away without another glance at Staci.

"Oi, what about my candle –"

"Allow me," the smooth, boyish voice spoke close to her ear, a shiver jolting her spine. That was why Caroline had deserted her, without effort, then.

Jude's arm snaked from behind her, touching his oscillating flame to the inert wick of her candle.

It blazed to life, shades of blue and orange dancing in synch.

"Thanks," Staci mumbled. Urgh, would she ever be capable of a more eloquent response? She stared into his sky-blue eyes as he twisted his body into her line of sight, but stayed abaft her. "Haven't seen you since the bonfire."

A light pink dusted his cheeks. "Yeah, sorry, Holly's been – I mean, she insisted we spend some time together. She was gone all summer and wanted to catch up," Jude squinted at his candle and stuck his hand inside his pocket.

Staci speculated into the night sky; the comet sailed beneath a crescent moon, bright and alluring, leaving a trail of silver, shimmering matter in its wake. She chewed her bottom lip and met his eyes.

"The two of you are close." Again stating the obvious.

"We are. We've known each other for a long time."

She knew that, already. "You and Holly… Are you, you know, more than friends?"

Jude choked and sputtered, his pink cheeks darkening into a bright red.

If they were, why hadn't he just said so? They might not have known each other for long but they were friends (right?), and she'd given him no reason to distrust her. Was he afraid to make her feel left out, now that his best friend was back in town? Or had he a secret, unreciprocated infatuation for the elegant blonde that he wished to conceal?

Maybe he simply doesn't want to talk about it.

"God no!" He blurted before Staci could revoke her question.

She raised her eyebrows at the forcefulness of his words as a pressure in her lungs she didn't know was there, deflated.

Jude's eyes widened. "I mean – that came out wrong. I –" He sucked a recomposing breath. "What I meant was Holly and I have been friends since we were kids. But that's it, we're just friends."

Staci blinked twice, a strangled giggle tumbling from her lips. "Huh, all right. It was a harmless question, didn't mean to give you a heart attack."

The iron-determination in his set jaw melted into a puddle of bashfulness. "I just didn't want you to – err, never mind."

They settled into a comfortable, serene silence, gazing at the travelling comet.

September 11th, 2009

Beep beep.

Beep beep.

Beep be –

Staci slapped her hand on her alarm clock, triggering the radio; The Beatles belting out their Good Morning.

Staci sighed into her pillow, content. It was so warm under the covers. A bleary chain lugged her heavy eyelids, stirring her brain with enticing sleep. Just a few more minutes.

Her eyes flashed open and studied the clock. 8:14.

Bloody hell!

Staci flung her covers away and rolled out of bed, nearly tripping on her scurrying feet.

Fifteen minutes later, Staci barged into Elliott's office.

"Why didn't you wake me up?!"

Elliott raised his head from his laptop with vexing lethargy. "You are old enough to converse with some boy until ungodly hours, so you should be responsible for waking up on time, as well. Or do you expect to be twenty-two and still rely on one of us?"

Staci scowled at his petty grin, fisting her hands to prevent her from strangling Elliott. Peter had left for work; she'd have to walk to school.

Urgh, she was wasting time.

"You're too old for frivolities, Elliott," Staci bit out before sprinting to the kitchen to fetch food and leave.

Her eyes closed, chin tilted up soaking up the hot, afternoon sun. It tasted like waning summer in her tongue, like approaching autumn.

Rabid shouts echoed from the football field, shattering the calm ambience, courtesy of Mr Tanner.

The poor blokes were running amok across the yellowed grass. It was hard to decide whether the fault was in them or their coach. A few of them were rather talented, as far as she, who knew little about American football, could tell.

"Can I sit with you?"

Stefan Salvatore stood at the bottom of the bleachers wearing a demure smile.

"No, sorry, my invisible friends are keeping me company," Staci joked, inclining her head in consent.

His lips pulled into a smirk as he sat beside her. "That's dutiful of them."

"Hm, indeed." She prayed Stefan wasn't there to discuss their initial meeting or question her about it. She had maintained her distance and been as inconspicuous as possible. He should do the same. "Is there anything you wanted?"

Stefan chuckled. "Not in particular, but your name would be nice."

"Staci."

Jude waved at her from the field, smiling his goofy grin, chocolate tresses clinging to his sweaty forehead. Staci returned the gesture and gave him thumbs up.

"Well, Staci, why is there a murderous blonde staring at you?"

Huh.

Staci followed his vision to the far-end of the grounds. Holly was slouched (not exactly, she was too dignified to do such a thing) under a tree by the cheerleading practice, looking like she wanted to bite Staci's head off.

"I…" Staci scrunched her face, flummoxed. "Haven't the foggiest…"

She did not recall doing anything so bad as to warrant Holly's wrath. That girl was prone to mood swings, it had become apparent. But Staci had never been in her presence long enough to understand a sliver of her motives.

"I heard about your stunt this morning," she deviated from the topic. "Why don't you try out for the team?"

"Yeah, Elena suggested the same thing," Staci was ever glad Stefan hadn't broached the supernatural predicament and opted for the same train-of-thought as her. Things had been established (for now), so it was needless to speak of it. "I'm not convinced it's a good idea."

Staci snorted in understanding. "Why, because you handed Tanner's arse to him in History class?"

Smugness crept up to Stefan's face even though he tried to hide it with laughter. He said no more, got to his feet and descended the bleachers. "By all means, then, wish me luck."

When practice ended, Jude jogged up to her, panting but ever-smiling.

"Tanner razed you lads to the ground."

"We've got a game tomorrow; he's on full berserk mode," he glanced sideways. "Didn't know you and Stefan Salvatore were friends…?"

"We aren't."

"I-I'm just curious, he said you encouraged him to try out for the team, too."

Staci shrugged. "Well, he's a proper player, isn't he?"

Jude stuttered before smiling, though this one did not reach his eyes. "That he is."

September 12th, 2009

Upon hearing the blaring sirens, Staci had flocked with the rest of the pandemonium of teenagers and adults to the parking lot. She had elbowed her way through once more.

Blinding flashes, crimson-red like the smeared concrete and pale blue… not unlike Mr. Tanner.

And once more she had frosted in place, clogged airways and dry mouth. Her insides squeezed, pumping the bile up her throat and Staci clapped a hand over her mouth.

8

14

22

She had been crossing paths with those three numbers since yesterday and given them no second thoughts.

Staci could not have predicted it, yet she should've known better. Why were her powers manifesting like that? It wasn't uncommon for a novice witch, but Staci had outgrown that phase long ago.

Then why –

Her eyes landed on Bonnie Bennett thirty steps away, face tear-stricken and contorted in pain, grief and… fear.

Bonnie had seen the numbers, too. It was her. She was coming into her magic, it was the only explanation. Staci had believed the youngest Bennett to be aware and already a witch… she was wrong.

The faint, repulsive odour of Lobelia hit her nostrils, but Staci could care less. It was no worse than the stench of blood and death that lingered from Damon Salvatore's recent kill.

"What kind of monster would do this?"

Staci jumped at the venomous hiss that had spewed from Holly's lips. She stood by Staci's side, too close for comfort, a glare of sheer loathing aimed at the bloodied number 22.

"It was an animal," Staci whispered with no real conviction. She didn't trust that her guts wouldn't spill through.

The blonde shifted towards Staci, her scowl fading into a blank mask. Holly's mint-green eyes darkened with a twisted emotion. They pierced Staci's soul and uttered what Holly did not.

She did not believe a single word.

A/N: I hope you liked it. If you have any opinions, thoughts, concerns, feel free to PM me.

To the very excited guest over Klaus/OC, thanks so much for your review. Right now I am particularly inclined to that pairing as well. As for the not making her suffer... You might agree with me that whoever would be fortunate to be in a relationship with Klaus, would be as unfortunate to have a bit of grief.

Till next time,

Hallee.