Saoirse tried to look respectable when meeting the people she helped. Tonight she had pinned her hair back in a loose bun, wore a pair of unnecessary glasses and a grey pencil dress. Saoirse knew she still looked young but she found that people who had limited experience with vampires respected the professional touch. It put them at ease, reminded them of an everyday business transaction. No, she would never actually wear four inch black heels to a vampire showdown. She was good but no human was that good.
She smoothed the skirt as she looked in the mirror one last time.
"You look like a hooker," the other occupant of the room sneered. "A middle of the road has been hooker who is trying to charge a few bob extra."
"Meow but I was aiming for slightly older professional – and I've been called worse by better than you," Saoirse replied, her attention still focused on her reflection as she finished applying her lip gloss.
Saoirse turned to Rebekah, her sweet smile firmly in place. The original vampire sat slumped in a wooden chair in the middle of the room. Blondie didn't look comfortable though with her wrists and ankles bound with vervain laced handcuffs and her body chained to the chair itself, that wasn't much of a surprise.
The tiny B&B had proved the perfect place for this little chat. Apart from Saoirse and Peter the guesthouse hadn't had a single guest in the last month. The little old lady downstairs had readily admitted this and added that her hearing was almost nonexistent. Seeing as the woman's stair lift had mysteriously broken down this morning, Saoirse couldn't imagine Mrs. Flowers interrupting. They had been going back and forth over the same questions for over two hours now and there hadn't been a single complaint from downstairs. She smiled confidently as she pulled up an empty chair and sat directly opposite the original vampire.
"Now tell me everything you know about the current members of the Founders Council," Saoirse asked, phrasing her words to ensure there was no misunderstanding.
"Mayor Carol Lockwood had an agreement with my mother –," Rebekah began. Any thoughts of verbally bashing her captor were pushed away by the overriding power of the compulsion.
"OLD NEWS," Saoirse interrupted gleefully. "Carol Lockwood got the boot because her son's a hybrid. Think of the scandal," Saoirse shared her secrets in conspiratorial whispers. Just your local friendly torturer of vampires.
"I know Damon worked with the Sheriff," Rebekah rushed, clutching at fast disappearing straws.
Saoirse pouted. "Liz Forbes is also out of a job. NEXT."
Rebekah had done her best to fight the compulsion, and vampires were especially good at this, always looking for that loophole their victims had never noticed. She had begun by avoiding questions, giving irrelevant answers and the she had just repeated the same dribble again and again, but it didn't matter. Saoirse had eventually gotten all the answers she needed, for now. It would just be nice to get a second opinion on the Founders Council before walking into a meeting with them.
"Carol Lockwood, Sheriff Forbes and Meredith Fell are all out, something about them working with the enemy," she explained to the frazzled vampire. "I need more up to date information."
Rebekah was visibly raking her brains looking for that little piece of information that would please her. Saoirse hated the look of desperation and dejection but she hated the growing ache behind her own eyes even more. Compelling vampires was never easy but despite the exhaustion that threatened her, Saoirse was pleasantly surprised by just how weak this original proved to be. She had been easy to turn in the end. The same as all the rest.
"The new acting Sheriff is Thomas Skinner. Tell me about him," she prompted.
The name sparked something in Rebekah and she responded quickly. "He's a fat, bald prick, who drinks too much. Married for love but his wife had the money and he has always been a failure."
This was exactly the kind of juicy gossip Saoirse needed. "So not the brains then," she surmised.
Rebekah snorted, "he's not even the muscle. The man couldn't hit sand if he fell off a camel." The vampire laughed at her inane joke but her laughter was too loud and just a little bit crazy. This one wouldn't last much longer.
"New acting Mayor is Daryl Harris," Saoirse prodded.
"I never met him, never heard of him, never knew he existed", Rebekah replied honestly.
"Well then he must be the brains."
Saoirse pondered the changing landscape of Mystic Falls as she retrieved a plastic water bottle from the dressing table. She had come here expecting to find some vampires, kill them and move onto the next town. Instead she was faced with original vampires, hybrids, witches and a doppelganger. Her special gift only worked on vampires. The situation was quickly spirally out of control and she had only been here two days.
Saoirse considered Rebekah as she held the bottle in her hand. An original vampire could be a valuable ally in this fight and once the fight was over, she could just compel Rebecca to kill herself. She turned again to the dressing table and picked up a set of keys before returning to sit in front of Rebekah.
"Rebekah Mikaelson you will do exactly as I say," Saoirse said. "You will not kill or in any way harm any creature without my say so. You cannot feed off a human, you cannot compel a human and you will make no effort to seek assistance from anyone. You will stay with me willingly and you will not try to run away. If I am not satisfied with your behaviour at the end of this trial period, then I'll leave you in the sun to roast."
Rebekahs' eyes had widened as Saoirse spoke and her mouth gaped open as her handcuffs were unlocked, allowing the vampire limited use of her hands. Saoirse placed the water bottle in her newly freed hands. "This is watered down vervain," she explained. "You can drink it in your own time but if you don't then you never leave this room. It's your choice."
Saoirse was already walking towards the door, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors, when she heard Rebekah's quiet, unbelieving voice. "No compulsion." It wasn't a question.
"Now that would hardly be fair." Saoirse's reply didn't satisfy the vampire, but she didn't expect it would. "I'm nothing like you," she explained further, unsure why she felt the need.
"What the hell are you?" Rebekah snarled.
"I'm the last of my kind," Saoirse explained. "Your brothers killed my family fifteen years ago." It didn't answer the vampire's question but she had decided that Rebekah didn't deserve answers just yet.
"So, what? You want revenge? You want to make us pay? Back of the fucking line. Why give me a choice?" she demanded. Rebekah was angry now, her eyes black, her demon to the fore but Saoirse didn't flinch, she smiled sadly and told the girl all the truth she needed to hear.
"Silly Becca, I don't want revenge. I want to save you. Now I will be back in a few hours and I expect to find that bottle empty."
Saoirse left her alone to scream at an empty bedroom. Peter was cross legged and relaxed, reading his reports and papers on the bed in the adjoining room. He didn't look up when she walked in. She waited for him to finish studying his collection of histories, legends and pure speculation about Mystic Falls and the creatures that lived here. She surmised that his work must be very engrossing as he continued to ignore her. "Things are worse than we thought," she finally interrupted.
"So we're adopting an original vampire in the hope that she will fix everything," he replied without once looking up from his notes. Peter's upper class London accent gave him an air of superiority in most of their arguments, but he still lost.
"Well we can't kill her, yet," Saoirse explained angrily. "We can't let her go and tell everyone that a human was able to compel her."
"So, compel her to forget," Peter suggested, his pen moving across the page in front of him.
"Too risky. She's an original; there's no way of knowing if the compulsion will wear off." Saoirse knew her arguments made sense and Peter was just angry with her decision to bring home a stray vampire. He was used to her stray humans, littering their rented accommodations on a Sunday afternoon, and was always happy to compel them away. She knew why Peter was angry, he was worried about her. He couldn't compel or threaten Rebekah into submission, but Saoirse could. Saoirse would be using her gift more than ever in the coming weeks and she knew he worried for her sanity. Her kind died young.
Peter carefully placed his pen on the page he was reading from and closed the report. He looked at her for the first time since she had walked into the room. She knew it was the first time he'd looked her in the eye since Rebelah Mikaelson had sat into the backseat of his car. Saoirse could see he was pissed, considering his words before he spoke and trying desperately hard not to shout at her. "Compelling her is too risky but interrogating her in your bedroom is just peachy," he wondered aloud.
She sighed, wondering why she had bothered. Peter had always been too cautious. "I'm going to meet the council…," she said picking up her handbag as she walked to the door. She heard Peter organising his papers, rising to follow her, as she spoke, "…and you're staying right here, guarding our prisoner."
She turned back in the doorway to look at her old friend. It wasn't what he had expected. He had changed into one of his finest suits while she was busy next door.
"Who's going to be guarding you?"
Saoirse pulled her small Sig pistol from her handbag and waved goodbye with the gun in her hand. Peter, disgusted as he was with her careless attitude, still had to crack a smile but he tried to hide it in his paperwork as she walked out the door.
Three Hours Later
The Founder's Council of Mystic Falls may have had the brains to call her but Saoirse imagined that this was their first, and would most likely be their last bright idea. They took one look at her and saw another young thing trying to take their measly powers away from them. After Saltzman had hijacked their little group she wasn't surprised at their reluctance, but this went beyond hurt pride.
They didn't seem to notice that she knew more about vampires than all their old dusty books. She'd told them that the history teacher had managed to kill the original hybrid, then she had explained what a hybrid was, using very small words and lots of hand gestures, so when they had asked her what an original was, she had pursed her lips and frowned in disbelief. She had tried to explain, smaller words and more hand gestures, but they treated her responses like the ramblings of a delusional child.
So she was dealing with this little setback in a completely mature and professional manner; she was drinking whiskey. The Grill didn't stock the really good stuff but the smooth burn was all the same. She had given up on respectable, pulling her hair out of its neat bun and allowing her heels to clatter to the floor as soon as she sat at the counter. Brown eyes wasn't here tonight. His replacement was dour, grumpy but more than happy to keep topping up Saoirse's glass.
She didn't want to go back to the B&B, chose between sharing a room with her judgemental vampire guardian or the bloodthirsty homicidal vampire who she had recently tortured. She hung her head in absolute frustration as she felt the familiar feeling creep up on her. Rebekah couldn't leave the B&B, which meant neither could Peter. Another vampire had just walked into the bar. It's hard to describe how a vampire feels to Saoirse. It's like a crisp breeze that isn't really cold but wakes you up, makes you pull your jacket tighter. This time the feeling that accompanied a vampire was slightly off, a hybrid and it was coming closer. Saoirse downed her drink and closed her eyes to the truth: as bad as it seems, it can always get worse.
The bartender noticed the creature behind her too and his face broke into a smile as he walked around the bar to greet the hybrid. Saoirse turned her head slightly to the side and watched a tall tan young man grasp the barman's hand. An ecstatic looking blonde vampire literally hung off the hybrid's arm. Saoirse had to smile at the closeness of the couple. They were so touchy feely that Saoirse's natural gift had only recognised one of them. Although they were the other end of the bar, Saoirse could still hear the tone of the vampire's voice over the din of the bar. It was no wonder that Rebekah and this Caroline hadn't got along. Way too alike.
Saoirse discreetly watched the couple. It wasn't long before they were joined by more friends, a gangly teenage boy practically dragging a reluctant dark skinned girl behind him. She wasn't much older than her friends but the new girl had the look of mistrust on her face that said it all. If the blonde was Caroline Forbes, this must be Bonnie Bennett, the witch. Saoirse watched the boys greet each other, lots of manly hugs and backslapping, but Saoirse noticed the distance between the two girls, the reluctance of the witch to take part in any kind of celebration.
The bartender was walking over again, bottle of powers in hand. Saoirse immediately placed her hand over the empty glass. "No thanks," she said smiling. "I think it's time I showed my face at home."
He shrugged and put the bottle away. "What are your friends celebrating?" Saoirse asked as she rooted around in her bag for the small black purse.
"Good news for a change," the barman muttered but he didn't seem all that happy as his friends joked and laughed across the bar. Saoirse found her purse and passed him a fifty.
"I can't even remember what good news looks like," she replied to his back. He held out her change but Saoirse shook her head, tossing her handbag over her shoulder. "Buy your friends a round of shots on me," she said.
Her bartender looked confused and amused. "That's very generous of you."
She shrugged. "I never got your name," she pointed out as she leant on the bar and slipped back into her high heels.
"I'm Matt." She was glad she was still struggling into her shoes and didn't have to look him in the eye. Matt Donovan whose car went over a bridge last night? This town was proving to be way too fucking small.
"I'm Saoirse and I'll be seeing you again soon" she replied, practiced fake smile firmly in place as she walked away from the bar.
Saoirse knocked on Peter's door instead of walking down the hall to the room her key actually opened. He opened it almost immediately, probably worried about why she was so late. He leaned in the doorway, his suit replaced with an old rugby shirt and boxers. His short hair sticking up at odd angles. He didn't say anything, didn't move to let her in and she was too tired for this shit.
"The situation has gotten worse …again," was all she needed to say.
He sighed, moved to the side and bowed mockingly to indicate she was invited in. Stupid vampires and their four hundred year old jokes. She collapsed on the bed, kicking her shoes across the room. She didn't wait for him to ask questions, Peter was too patient for that, he could stand there for hours looking down on her and saying nothing, and she was too pissed to be quiet.
"Klaus isn't dead. One of his hybrids is down the local with his girlfriend celebrating… something," she exclaimed.
"I know," he said calmly sitting down on the bed beside her.
"You know?" she was almost shouting now as she sat up beside him.
"Rebekah saw her brother die but he couldn't have died. I'm of his bloodline," Peter admitted. "If I'm still here, then so is he."
"Fuck," was all Saoirse could say to that. She knew why he hadn't told her. He had saved her life, trained her to kill his kind and now there were finally here, a mission that could end with Saoirse killing him. They hadn't spoken about the consequences of killing originals in a long time. It was something neither of them wanted to look at too closely. When she had brought Rebekah home, it had been so much easier to fight.
"So what will we do?" Saoirse asked. Peter rose and walked across the room. He picked up a spare jersey off the floor, sniffed it and tossed it at her.
"Get changed," he commanded. She tossed her dress in the corner as she pulled the shirt over her head. She heard Peter clearing the bed behind her of paper and books and turned to him when she was decent. He turned off the bedside lamp and they crawled under the covers together in pitch back darkness. He pulled her close and held her like he used to do when she was little and the nightmares still haunted her. It didn't escape either of their notice that Saoirse was no longer little but like everything else in their twisted relationship, they pretended.
"The world will still be broken in the morning," he whispered in her ear, "your problems won't have gone away and you probably won't have formulated any grand plan for fixing things, because… well, it's you." He did well to avoid the backwards slap that followed his remark. He grabbed her wrist and only held her closer. "But I promise you Saor, everything will be a bit clearer too, and a little less frightening in the bright light of day and we'll decide which monster to slay first. One monster at a time, you're going to save the whole world."
"Even if it kills you," she whispered in the dark.
"Even if it kills us both," he promised.
"You say the sweetest things." She meant it. She was content here with him. She relaxed in his arms and put all her troubles to the back of her mind and closed her eyes.
