author's notes: hee, this chapter is a little more graphic, in uhm, places. sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger. that said i should probably apologize in advance for the next one :) still hope you all enjoy! thanks so much for everyone commenting! please read & review! -- i added some pictures to my profile for visuals on Amelia -- setting: right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

disclaimer: fic•tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

MALUM DISCORDIAE (apple of discord)

chapter 10: hold my heart

1864

There's a dead human body at her feet, and Amelia stares down at it with a melancholic curiosity. The woman has been drained dry of any blood, but that's not what interests her now. There are four tiny puncture marks in her neck, from where two pairs of fangs sliced through her skin greedily. She'd known long before either of the Salvatore brothers woke up that they wouldn't chose death; she just never could have guessed that it would be the youngest to break first.

It was Stefan that had lead the young woman here, pleading with Damon, telling him how much stronger he was now, how there was a vast world out there they hadn't even dreamed about. Just like Katherine had told them. Amelia stood by in silence; they were brothers after all, and she made no claim to either of them. She stood by as Damon tasted his first drop of human blood, completing the transformation she had set in motion the day before. He was complete now.

And then the strangest thing happened, further proof that she was now living in a world that's slipping away from her in meaning. Damon tells his brother that he'll make his life a living hell. Amelia's not sure she understands what that's about. She joins him by the riverside, following his blank stare out towards the waterfalls. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice calm.

"Strong," he answers, eyes not seeking hers. He's not entirely sure how he's supposed to answer her question now that he can feel so much. He feels everything stronger, yet he thinks that if he tries, he could switch of that humanity easily. "Stronger than ever." He hesitates for a few moments longer, but licks his lips then, and turns to her. She looks more out of time than she does out of place, a serenity about her that he guesses only time will grant him. "Why did you turn me?" he asks softly.

She answers almost immediately; it's not the entire truth, and she suspects it will be decades before she can admit that to him. "It didn't seem right to see you punished for loving a monster." A monster, just like her.

"Katherine wasn't a monster," Damon says.

Exactly, she means to say, but she knows that's the vampire in her speaking. In any real human terms, what Katherine did to these boys would be considered monstrous. "Is that why you chose to hate your brother instead?" Amelia asks. He loves Katherine still, and that won't change any time soon. But he must see it now, after having gained a second chance. Katherine choose to turn Stefan, not him. "Because it's easier?"

"It was supposed to be me. Just me." There are tears in his eyes. "They took her from me before she could make that happen."

Poor boy, Amelia thinks, but doesn't say a word, for fear of confusing or aggravating him further. He has a thing or two to learn about vampire life before giving over to his anger and hate. She leaves him to his sorrow.

NOW

Caroline's hands move underneath his shirt, pushing the white fabric aside. Matt smiles at her determination to get him naked right there in her bed, and kisses her, his own hand moving under her blue blouse. The door to Caroline's bedroom opens before he has a chance to get off her.

"Caroline..." Sheriff Forbes walks into the room, unsuspecting, but halts in her tracks and turns her head once she sees her daughter and Matt Donovan in a compromising position. "Oh, good God," she exclaims, but forces herself to stay calm. Matt obviously makes her daughter happy, and anything else she's previously done or said had only made her daughter mad.

"Mom!" Caroline shouts, pushing Matt off her and straightening her blouse. She can't believe this. "Ever hear of knocking?"

"Sheriff Forbes, I can explain," Matt tries, but Caroline's mom puts out a hand to shut him up.

"Please," the sheriff shakes her head, keeping her eyes averted from the scene in front of her. If she says anything now, there's no knowing what Caroline will do to retaliate. And with vampires out there, she much prefers knowing exactly what Caroline is up to. She's old enough, and Matt is a decent boy. "I'll be out combing the woods with the rest of the Council." And their new vampire expert. "Just... lock all the doors and windows, will you?" she adds, and closes the door to Caroline's bedroom behind her.

"Did she just..." Matt frowns, Caroline staring at the door as well.

"Go lock the window." Caroline looks back at Matt. He gets up and closes the window shut, Caroline already getting under the covers of her bed. "... and get in here," she adds.

Elena pushes her way through the front door of the Salvatore boarding house. She can feel Stefan behind her; he hasn't said a word the entire ride up here. She knows that means he's worrying, about her, about the town and everyone in it. Part of her wishes she could carry that burden with him; part of her knows she already does, without having to try. So there's an entire army of vampires out there that has it in for Mystic Falls and every person in it. Including Stefan and Damon.

"I still think I should take you home," Stefan says, closing the door behind him. Elena looks at him, but refrains from saying anything. They're both on edge. "Katherine or Pearl can't touch you there." He has a point, and he knows it. Any vampire can wander into this house now that no human is living here anymore, but she's safe from any unwanted guests at home.

"We'll wait for Amelia," Elena says, and crosses her arms over her chest. "I can't just sit at home and not know what's going on." Stefan wants to tell her she's being stubborn, but knows that won't get him anywhere either. So he makes his way towards her, and puts his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. But he stays quiet. "What's wrong?" Elena's voice breaks through the silence.

Katherine is what's wrong, he means to say, Katherine in the same town as Elena, Katherine on the loose, Katherine alive. Things were far easier when he believed Katherine to be down in that tomb, dead. It used to make him sleep more soundly. He imagines that won't be happening again any time soon.

Before he has a chance to say anything though, someone storms through the front door, dropping down on the floor in pain. "Damon?" Elena frowns, and moves free from Stefan's embrace. Then she sees his leg bleeding. "Damon!" she shouts this time, and runs over to him. She goes to her knees next to Damon, while he's in the process of sitting up against the wall.

"Damon. What happened?" Stefan asks.

Damon looks up at his brother very slowly, feeling tears sting his eyes, despair hitting him like a tidal wave. It should have been him. "She's..." he breaths, and closes his eyes when he leans his head back against the dark wall. But as he does, Amelia's face flashes vividly in front of his eyes. Something in his chest contracts painfully. "She's dead. Amelia's dead."

"What?" Elena and Stefan ask simultaneously. They look at each other, wide-eyed, and fear settles somewhere deeper than ever before. Amelia, dead? Stefan thinks, but shakes his head, disbelieving, taking hesitant steps backwards, away from his brother's words. No, it can't be. Amelia can't be dead.

"Damon, love," a voice identical to Elena's drifts through the hallway. All three of them turn to look, and there is Katherine, she'd already been inside the house, her hands folded together in front of her. And she's smiling. Elena feels her lip curling with disgust, nails digging into the palms of her hands to keep from doing anything rash.

But it's Damon that does. "You," he almost growls, and his eyes flare up in anger. He gets up in one smooth movement, rushing towards Katherine with supernatural speed. Stefan can tell that it's only his anger fuelling him. Before Katherine knows what's going on, Damon has his hand around her throat, forcing her back against the wall. "It was you," he sneers, blue eyes made of fire and ice at the same time, his entire body shaking. She's never seen him this angry.

"What are you talking about?" Katherine asks, keeping her calm. She knows how to handle Damon; this is just something he needs to get out of his system.

"I KNOW it was you, Katherine!" He grabs her around the throat and smashes her head back against the wall, her skull connecting with the wood hard. "I just don't know why," he continues, keeping a crushing weight around Katherine's neck. "Was it because she turned me? Or because you were hoping to get to her before she could tell us what you are?"

"What exactly am I, Damon?" Katherine raises an eyebrow. His care for Amelia had never been this palpable. Curious. "I love you." She tries to reach a hand for him, but Damon stops her.

"You love nothing," he hisses. He can see it now, the truth that eluded him all those years ago. He'd been a naive human being, in love with a monster. Amelia had tried to tell him that in many ways, but it was only his brother that had listened. "You love no-one. You're greedy and spoiled." Damon rears back, releasing Katherine and turning his back on her. "And you don't deserve me," he adds, voice calm suddenly, feeling that familiar ache in his chest. He finds himself finally admitting to what exactly it is: his heart.

"Excuse me?" Katherine asks. She can see Damon slipping away from her right in front of her eyes and there's nothing she can do about it. This is most unfortunate.

Damon turns around and looks at her strongly. "Get out," he commands, jaw clenched tight. Katherine's strong facade falters; what is happening here? She should be the one he loves, not Amelia, that pathetic excuse for a vampire, one that doesn't even properly hunt anymore. "You get this one chance to leave, Katherine. Come back here again, and I will rip you limb from limb." He knows for a fact, that if she ever does return, Stefan will gladly help him do that.

Katherine hesitates only a few moments longer, but decides against staying. Something inside her is burning, telling her to rip him to pieces, but she knows she's no match for both Damon and Stefan. Least of all now. She runs out of the boarding house without looking back.

The silence returns to the house eerily, laying between Elena, Damon and Stefan now like a distance no one dares to cross. "Damon, what happened?" Stefan asks again, his eyes tearing up beyond his control.

Damon crashes to his knees again, and buries his face in his hands. "She's dead, Stefan," he cries. "She's gone."

Stefan takes another few steps back, until his back connects with the wall, and he slumps down on the floor too. Elena clasps a hand over her mouth, furiously holding back tears.

The red cotton sheets rustle almost inaudibly, like an old soundtrack on a black-and-white movie. Crackling, a hushed intake of breaths, gasps, accompanying hard touches on anciently imprinted skin. She whispers his name (Damon) and moans deep in her throat, nails racking over his biceps, down his chest, teeth nipping at his skin, tongue exploring.

The dark velvety red surrounds them, hugs them tight around flushed skin, holding them... but it doesn't cover them up. His breath his hot against her skin, and she thinks, I know this, I've been here before, we've been here before. Together. And then she screams his name, loud, so loud that he starts laughing. It's so infectious she starts laughing too.

"Mmm," she breathes and sits up on top of him, straddling his hips while he's still part of her. One of his hands settles on her hip, the other reaching up for her lips. He traces his thumb over her bottom lip, but she sucks it in greedily. She bites down, eyes growing dark, black, and one of her fangs pierces through his skin. His hips buck up into her, making them both cry out.

She puts a hand on his chest, sweaty, but rolls her hips to keep enjoying him. He grabs her hips with both hands firmly now, guiding her, making her move just like he needs her to. The nails of her right hand dig into his chest, stronger the closer he pushes her to the edge, piercing skin, hitting bone, penetrating deeper.

They climax together, shouting for the whole world to burn with them, for it to split open and swallow them whole in smouldering inferno, and for a few split seconds, it does. She burns from the inside, a force burning everywhere – her head, her veins, her heart – and when she looks down, she sees her fist has pushed all the way through Damon's chest. Amelia reaches for something, it's gravelly and wrong and when she pulls her hand back, she just stares for a while.

Her hand, it's filled with coarse black sand, slipping from her fingers. "I told you this would happen if you didn't take care of it," her own voice sounds from far away.

"What about yours?" Damon asks, and she frowns down at him. Her hand is still dirty with black ash, but she pays no more attention to it. Why is he asking her about her heart? She knows her heart, better than he could ever know his own; a black dark rock right inside her chest, re-awakened whenever she's with him. Her immortal man.

"What about mine?" she asks still, because she doesn't understand what exactly he's asking of her.

The next few seconds pass in a blur. Damon throws her off him strongly, fast, and she lands next to the bed, on the floor on her back, hard, her skull connecting with cold stone, but the floor is all wet and cold and other things she shouldn't be able to feel. What's he doing? Amelia wonders, but Damon doesn't show himself again. Instead, there's a darkness crowding all around her, a familiar darkness that's surrounded her before and enveloped her and brought her into being a long time ago.

It comes closer in the form of thick black mist, and it penetrates her when it touches her skin. She can feel it filling up her veins and her eyes, burning, flowing through her like white-hot lava. And then there's pain, only pain, searing through her like a lightning rod made of ice water, a broad-head arrow that would do more damage coming out.

Amelia tries to get up, but there's something at the very centre of her, holding her in place, pinning her down to the ground. She realises it's a wooden stake only when it's gone, when it gets ripped from her flesh, bloody, with slow human strength.

Jeremy pulls the stake from Amelia's chest with great difficulty. He's not sure why he feels compelled to do it, but he can't stand the sight of her lying there in front of him. He feels as if he's killed someone, even though Alaric had told him it would be some thing, an animal that needed to be put down. It should have been Damon, he thinks, now he fears that Damon's wrath will probably do him in sometime soon now. Alaric joins him in the woods again; Jeremy figures Damon slipped away.

"We should go," Alaric says, staring down at Amelia's lifeless body. He knows it shouldn't have been her to die tonight; all this had been set up for Damon. Damon who killed Isobel, who took the one thing from him that he cared about most in this world. But then maybe losing Amelia will make Damon feel what he felt after losing Isobel. What he feels still.

Jeremy is in the process of standing up when Amelia's body spasms violently on the forest floor, and she draws in an agonizing breath accompanied by a scream. Alaric rears back immediately at the sight of it, but Jeremy doesn't get the chance to even look at Amelia. Her heart-shattered roars with flames, screaming to get healed, shrieking for the one and only thing her body needed even before getting staked-again. Blood. Her whole body is screaming blood, lungs aching for it instead of air, gasping for the tiniest whiff of life. The hole in her chest wills it.

"Jeremy!" Alaric manages to shout, but Amelia is up in a blink, grabbing for Jeremy, eyes feral and fierce, and she plants her fangs in his neck. It takes her all the strength in the world not to rip out his throat, yet she drinks, deep, draining the life from him in a matter of seconds. She releases him before he reaches death; Jeremy drops unconscious at her feet.

Alaric's eyes have widened in fear, heart hammering in his chest. She can hear it, thudding fast, like music to her nervous system. "How..." he shakes his head, but finds no other meaningful words. How is she alive? He watched her get staked, her body died, Damon ran from her when he realised the same thing. How is this possible? "Please..." Alaric adds, but it's too much. He blinks, and Amelia is next to him, a hand at the back of his head and one under his chin. She snaps his neck without giving it a second thought. He too, drops down at her feet, only he's dead. No one touched Damon or Stefan without tasting her wrath.

Amelia stares at him for a few moments, chest heaving, dark blood dripping sluggishly from her chin and clinging to her lips. The forest goes quiet around her, but the world is spinning, turning upside town. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, but her knees buckle and she gets pulled down again. She wails, like a wounded animal, for help, for an unwitting victim who's blood she can drain. All she can think about is blood. She shouldn't have killed Alaric, but when she was this instinctual her strongest emotions overruled her. And her instinct had been to kill the man that had intended to kill Damon.

But then too – like she had seconds ago – Alaric stirs on the forest floor again. Amelia gasps, because she hears his heartbeat coming back to life inside his chest, reminded her how she's starving, craving more blood than Jeremy could have offered. Alaric becomes an answer to her prayers. She crawls over to where he's coming back to the land of the living, bones and tendons snapping back in place. Amelia only then catches eye of the ring on his hand. Of course, she realises, the Gilbert crest. She's seen it on another hand before; it must be what's protecting him.

It's only when Alaric is starting to regain consciousness that she takes off the ring, confident that he's fully recovered and will again once she's taken her fill and puts the ring back on. "What the..." Alaric murmurs when he opens his eyes, but then Amelia plants her fangs in his neck. He can't fight her; she's too fast.

Jeremy wakes up half an hour later, a warm iron taste in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, Amelia is looming over him, blood dripping from her wrist onto his lips. He jolts upright instinctually, instantly realising that he's alive and she's alive. He thought it'd been Damon attacking him. He looks around anxiously, but realises they haven't moved at all. Alaric is slumped against a tree, shirt covered in blood, unconscious.

"What did you do to him?" Jeremy asks. He foolishly hopes that if he can keep her talking then maybe he'll walk away from this alive. He realises soon that she could have killed him already. Why is he still alive? He wants to ask her, but he doesn't know if his luck will extend that far.

"I killed him," Amelia answers, and looks towards Alaric herself. Her eyes narrow on his chest rising and falling. It's the third time that night she's seen him come to life. "A few times now."

"How are you alive? I saw you..." He hadn't just seen her get staked; he'd been the one doing it. He'd felt the stake tearing through soft tissue, meeting some resistance but not near enough to stop it before it reached her heart. Had Alaric lied to him about how to kill a vampire?

Amelia doesn't know the exact answer to that, but she can guess. "I believe Darwin called it evolution," she says, and gets up on unsteady legs.

"You're dead," Jeremy says. "And besides, evolution takes thousands of years."

Amelia turns her head and looks down at him, quirking an eyebrow.

"You're..." Jeremy says, but swallows the last words. She's thousands of years old?

"Old," Amelia stresses, yet again, attempting to take a step, but she fails short of achieving it.

She feels her chest contracting and she keels over in pain, grabbing for the hole in her clothes, her skin barely healed over there. She needs more blood, more than she's ever needed, and she wants it more than anything else in the world right now. But she can't take any more from Jeremy. And the history teacher is taking too long to heal this time around.

"What is it?" Jeremy asks, fear striking him again. She might have helped him with her blood now, but nothing is stopping her from feeding off him again. "What's wrong with you?"

"I got staked," Amelia sneers, breathing heavily. There's no precedent for this. She's never heard of a vampire to walk away from being staked, but then she's never met one as old or older than her, even though they're out there. She doesn't know what she'll need to properly recover. She knows she has to go looking for Damon and Stefan, but she hasn't the strength to make it that far.

Suddenly voices cut through the night air, mumbles of men coming towards them. "Jeremy!" a voice calls out, and Amelia is once again struck with an unpleasant sensation. That voice, she knows that voice. She wants to run, every single cell in her body is telling her to, but she can't move. The pain is keeping her paralyzed. Flashlights appear from not too far away, and then they're surrounded, police men, council members.

Amelia gives up fighting. The world blurs around her again, and she passes out in the wet leaves.

"No, leave her alive," the voice says. Of course, he wants her alive.

"Uncle John?" Jeremy asks, eyes going wide. He hadn't even known his uncle was in town again.

1864

Her long beige dress sweeps over the dried grass on the ground. Amelia makes her way to the run-down shack not too far from Damon; she's not keen on letting either Stefan or Damon out of sight for the time being. Emily is inside, gathering the blankets Stefan and Damon had slept in last night. "You served Katherine," Amelia says matter-of-factly.

"She saved my life," Emily answers, staring at Amelia from the corner of her eye. She's afraid to look at her directly, because she can feel the power that exudes from her. Not even Miss Pearl was this strong. "Though I did not wish her curse on either of them." Still, there is an emptiness in her eyes Emily doesn't quite understand. She's only ever known vampires to be lively, ironically. This Amelia, this ancient, seems like she's ready to let go of what life she has left.

"It was too late for Stefan," Amelia says, even though she doesn't need to explain. Emily must have seen Katherine feeding him her blood, she must have known of Katherine's plan. It doesn't feel right to be judged by her now, when she would have watched them change under Katherine's supervision without question.

"Why did you turn Damon then?" Emily asks, looking at Amelia standing not too far from her. Something tells her that Amelia won't harm her unless provoked.

There's a faint hint of a smile playing across Amelia's lips when she looks towards Damon again. "He reminds me of someone I once knew," Amelia answers, and folds her fingers around the silver heart pendant on the chain around her neck. His name was Conrad. Yes, he had eyes just like Damon's. She shouldn't think in such terms about other humans, she knows that, but even vampires had their moments of weakness.

"Your husband," Emily says, standing calmly now. It's so curious, she thinks, Katherine claimed to love Damon and Stefan, but she'd always doubted the validity of those words. Miss Pearl, now she was capable of some semblance of love for her daughter, Anna. This vampire however, this Amelia, she seems to have loved and lost since the beginning of time. She has come to know love like she knows herself.

Amelia turns to her then, and their eyes meet, green and deep-brown. "You are a witch," Amelia says, the same playful smile ghosting across her features. She's met her fair share of witches. She's never known one helpful to a vampire.

"You are one of the Old Ones," Emily says.

The smile drops from Amelia's lips, and her eyes go wider. One of the Old Ones, Amelia wonders, wherever did the witch find that term? After long hesitation, Amelia decides to answer Emily. She can't go around having people know her age; even now, even still, that knowledge gave people too much power. "No," she says, she's old enough but nowhere near the Originals. "I am not."

"Still, you cannot be much younger."

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