The Slayer Diaries
Chapter 10: Gone to the Dogs

"You're bleeding."

Keeley glanced up at Stefan from where she sat on the floor of the school's dance studio, unlacing her pointe shoes. "Yeah," she acknowledged, "I am. That's kind of what we ballerinas do, though."

Stefan flinched slightly, switching his weight in the doorway, and she couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Come on in. I'm not the one who bites, here," she prodded at him, chuckling at her own joke.

With a weak grin, Stefan did. He was almost immediately looming over her. Keeley tried not to notice the way his nostrils flared when she eased the shoes off her feet, revealing a burst, bleeding blister.

She bridged; "I'm guessing you need something from me?"

"Why do you assume that?"

Keeley heaved something that was in-between a sigh and a groan as she swung herself to her feet. "No offense," she began, "but you, Sidney, and your brother only ever really come to me if you need something, so I just kind of…"

The guilty eyebrow-twitch proved it.

"Don't be weird, dude. What do you need?"

Stefan hesitated a little bit. Keeley watched the way his thoughts ran through his head, between the pinch of his eyebrows and out through his mouth: "I'm sure Caroline's told you about the Klaus business."

There was an unpleasant roiling in Keeley's stomach. Big, bad, Original vampires coming to town did not mean well for smart-mouthed, human lackeys. "Yeah, you could say that."

"We could use some help protecting Elena," Stefan finally admitted. "I was wondering if you could try giving Isobel a call?"

Sometimes Keeley forgot that she and Elena were related- sisters, technically, or at least half-sisters- which was more than Sidney and Elena were, as crazy as that was. Keeley and Elena shared a mother and a tendency to be abandoned by said mother, but that was where the similarities ended.

Elena had been given up to the Gilbert family. Keeley had been left behind with her father while Isobel galivanted off into the vampire world she so adored. Keeley hadn't even known her mother was still alive (sort of) until this year, and the revelation wasn't a pleasant one. Isobel had tracked Keeley down a few months ago and offered to take her with her on her adventures, but Keeley had refused; an interaction she was now regretting telling the Salvatores and their Scooby Doo gang about.

She had Isobel's number. She could call her right now, and Keeley wanted to help her friends, but she didn't want to be embarrassed when Isobel inevitably didn't answer.

Isobel was a topic Keeley and her dad endeavored to avoid at all costs. Stefan couldn't possibly know that, but he certainly had to have an idea of how awkward what he was asking her to do was.

He was watching her with those too-big, fanfiction-green eyes that saw more than she wanted him to. "Keeley," he urged softly, "I wouldn't be asking you to do this if someone's life wasn't on the line. But Isobel knows more about Klaus than we do. You're smart enough and caring enough to see that this is important, so please. You're the only person I can think of that she would be willing to talk to."

A groan built up in the middle of Keeley's chest, and she sighed it out in a huff, rubbing hands against a still-sweaty face. "You owe me one," she grumbled, leaning down to fish her phone out of her dance bag.

"I owe you two," Stefan pointed out quietly. "You saved my life a few weeks ago."

Keeley's hands paused in wrapping ribbons around pointe shoes. She hesitated, wrinkled her nose, then put them in the bag and came back up with her phone. "You don't owe me anything," she told him softly. "I'd have done that for anyone."

Stefan's discomfort showed in his shifting weight again. "Still. Thank you."

Now Keeley was the awkward one. She could feel heat on her cheeks, and she let her hair down from its tight bun to hide the flush. "No worries," she excused, brushing hands through her tangled curls. "So, do you just want me to call her now?"

"What?" Stefan had been staring at her with a blank look in his eyes that he shook off after her question. "Yes- sorry- if you're up for it."

"I want to help. I'm up for it," Keeley deadpanned. Not leaving Stefan any more room to hum and haw, she scrolled through the contacts, let her thumb float above Isobel's number, and then dialed.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

"Isobel Flemming's phone, how may I help you?" an annoyed and decidedly manly voice answered.

Stefan, who Keeley had forgotten could hear both sides of the conversation, since he was a vampire and all, raised his eyebrows to an almost comical degree.

Keeley cleared her throat and ignored the hand held out for her phone. "Sorry, um, is Isobel- um, is she there?" she asked.

A pause. A clink of china. "Yes." Another clink, accompanied by a swallow. Keeley wrinkled her nose. Stefan resorted to trying to snatch the phone out of her hands, but she dodged with a well-placed, half-pirouette. "Who should I say is calling?"

Stefan shook his head desperately. Keeley ignored him.

"Keeley. Her daughter."

"No. No. No- Keeley-! Hang up now."

The man's voice took on a considerable level of interest. "Ah, Keeley." He let the e's in her name draw out in an assessing, kind of creepy way.

This kind of intense focus, centered on her, of all people, was not a sensation that she was used to, nor one that she enjoyed. Keeley wasn't smart like Sherlock Holmes, or beautiful like Natasha Rostova, or strong like Batman, or empathetic like Will Graham. Dangerous people didn't pay attention to her, and she didn't want them to pay attention to her.

Stefan finally succeeded in snatching the phone out of her hands. "Forget about her, Johnathan," he insisted. "We were trying to reach Isobel. But if you're with her, we clearly shouldn't be getting her involved in this situation."

Oh, shit. Johnathan Gilbert. Keeley nervously tendou-ed her feet back and forth, many of her dad's John-centered rants running through her mind as Stefan argued with the man.

"You don't- Don't come- We don't need you-! God damn it!"

Stefan's hands tightened to whiteness around her phone, and Keeley felt that all too familiar twinge of vampiric fear in the pit of her stomach. But Stefan was Stefan, Grandpa-teddy bear extraordinaire, and she knew she shouldn't fear him- But Keeley still did.

He handed her the phone, fingers trembling and cold when they brushed against hers, only to be pushed through his reddish faux-hawk.

"Johnathan Gilbert is coming back to town," Stefan finally grunted out, a lot of wince in his eyes and mouth.

Keeley gave him an apologetic grin, not quite sure if there was anything she could say to make him feel any better about the fact that all four Gilberts were about to murder him. "Well, we done fucked up."

Stefan took Keeley to the bookstore on Main Street to make up for bringing her mom up again. Keeley wanted to tell him there was no need, but she liked books too much to be the bigger person this time around. Also, her dad had spilled coffee on her copy of Pride and Prejudice two nights ago, and she needed a new one, but Stefan didn't need to know that.

It was so easy to get caught up in the tragic-vampire-adventure storyline, that sometimes, Keeley forgot that she genuinely valued her friends and enjoyed spending time with them.

Stefan, when he wasn't pushing and prodding at her, was especially pleasant to be around. He listened to Keeley's rants and made sense of them better than her and Caroline and her dad combined. And he bought her coffee and new books, and sometimes laughed at her jokes, and smelled like cinnamon and paper, and oddly, was becoming a close friend in the way that Keeley didn't have a lot of. Stefan was becoming like Caroline and Keeley's dad, and that was a little scary but also a lot good, and she liked it- liked him.

Caroline called when Keeley and Stefan were halfway through the autobiography section, and Keeley could hear her terror through the line.

"Where are you?" Caroline demanded. Her breath shook the same way it had at the end of cheer practices when she was still human.

"Read-It-Again with Stefan," Keeley answered immediately. "What happened?"

"He-Tyler- Oh my God- actually, like attacked me- He attacked me! Holy- Holy shit- Stefan is…?"

Stefan nodded at Keeley, eyebrows concerned and drawn together, and replied, "I'm on my way. Where are you?"

"The senior parking lot," Caroline answered before Keeley could wonder at her and Stefan's ability to be able to hear each other. "Please come- Keeley, don't. Stay. I don't want to…"

"No, I get it," Keeley replied, suddenly very itchy, "I really do. Don't worry about it. Stefan will probably be there in, like, three seconds. Remind me to kick Tyler's ass the next time I see him, and call me when you're ready to tell me what just happened."

Caroline's voice was fraught with relief. "As usual, you two are the best, and Keeley, I love you. Thank you."

She hung up. Stefan's hand wrapped around Keeley's, suddenly, stopping the fingers she hadn't even realized were scratching at her throat.

"Stop," he told her softly. "No one's going to suck your blood again anytime soon, I promise. Certainly not Caroline."

Keeley suddenly felt the need to apologize, and blurted out; "I know she wouldn't- not on purpose- you either- She loves me a lot, and I feel… I know. I know she wouldn't."

Stefan raised a brow, but Keeley didn't know what that was supposed to mean, and then he waved, and she blinked, and he was gone, and she was alone. Again.

This aloneness, this overwhelming humanity, was becoming an achingly familiar sensation to her.

So, she buried herself in the back of the bookstore, behind a rather large edition of The Completed Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Keeley would have gone with Jane Austen, which is what she had originally been in the mood for, but the vampire antics had succeeded once more in killing her vibe, and making her crave major angst. The leather armchair she favored still conformed to her butt in that comforting way, and it was past sunset by the time Keeley had gotten through most of The Great Gatsby.

A quick glance at the date on her phone told her it was payday, and as The Grille was on her way back to the apartment she and her dad shared, Keeley figured it only made sense to stop in and pick up her check. What did not make sense, however, was the angry flare of Tyler Lockwood's nostrils when he jumped up from his seat at the bar and stormed over to confront her.

"It's you," he spat, eyes sharp as flint, "isn't it?"

"What's me?" Keeley blurted out, more stunned by the fact that Tyler was talking to her than anything else. What little interactions she did have with him were limited to making gross faces at Caroline when he tried (and failed) to flirt with her while the two of them were together, and Keeley wasn't aware he even knew about those faces.

Tyler made a low rumble in the back of his throat, one that had Keeley taking an instinctive step away from him. It wasn't until now that she realized just how much taller than her he was. "The vampire. The one who's been teaching Caroline. She was normal until you came to town. You did this to her."

"No," was all Keeley could stutter out, every step she took towards the door matched by one of his. "No, no, no- Tyler, for once in your life don't be an idiot- It wasn't me, and you don't know what you're talking about so shut up-"

Tyler threw his fist out, nearly shattering the glass of the door. Matt's head snapped up from the bar he was tending. The confusion written across his face was both comforting and frightening, because as wholesome and good as Matt was, he loved Tyler a lot more than Keeley, and she knew that if this elevated to violence, that wouldn't be good. Feelings would get in the way of Matt getting in Tyler's way.

"Run," Tyler huffed, eyes going brown, gold, brown, gold, brown, gold- "Get the fuck out!"

And Keeley wasted no time in doing just that.

Jeremy and Jenna's worry for Elena was tangible these days. I couldn't blame them; so was mine. She wasn't just avoiding me now; her contempt had spread to the rest of our family and friends, to the point where it seemed like all she did these days was skulk about her room and plot ways to commit euthanasia via-Klaus Mikaelson.

That afternoon had been no different. The minute me and my siblings arrived home, Elena had sprinted up the steps, and behind a closed door that Jeremy and I could hear slam from where we were in the entry way. Jeremy heaved a sigh and moved into the kitchen, leaving me to wonder how Elena was going to take-

Well, what Elijah and I were planning.

I bit my lip at the thought and shook my head, moving to follow Jeremy. Mostly because that was a hard thing to think about without feeling sick to my stomach, and thus far, Elena's weirdness had been the only thing to cover up my weirdness.

Jeremy rattled around the kitchen, looking just as much at a loss as I felt. He pierced me with a glare that nearly made me flinch. I held it, returned it, and then dropped my bookbag on a barstool.

"She," Jeremy groaned, jerking his chin up at the ceiling, "is driving me nuts."

"Me too," I answered distractedly. My eyes flicked through the room, idly cataloguing any possible threats. "Granted, the whole sacrifice-situation is probably what's driving her nuts, too."

Jeremy snorted through his nose, glaring at me, now. "Yeah, well, it's driving everyone crazy," he snapped, "you most of all. She knows that, so I don't understand why she's being so immature about it."

That sent an unpleasant lurch through my stomach. "Don't make me resent Elena," I told him. "Don't make me resent my sister when I'm- Just don't, alright, Jer? This is a rough time for all of us- her especially."

Another snort. Jeremy rolled his eyes in the way he knew I hated and said, "She's right. You really are trying to replace Mom and Dad."

I didn't think he meant to hurt me, but he still did. I retreated up to my bedroom and away from my siblings until sundown, when Jenna rumbled into the house in a flurry of slamming doors and aggravated screams.

"I hate him!" she was ranting to herself when I popped down to the kitchen to check on her. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!"

"Him who?" I demanded, hands over my ears.

"Johnathan fucking Gilbert!"

I wish I could say this was the first time I blew into the Boarding House in a righteous, Damon-caused fury. It was more like the twentieth or thirtieth time, but then again, who's counting? (Read: It was the twenty-seventh.)

"I'm assuming you found out about your Uncle Psycho?" Damon asked after looking at my face.

I growled under my breath, sparing a quick glance at the little wave Stefan had sent in my direction. "What do you think?"

Damon had the decency to look at least a little apologetic, but that was quickly ruined when he flopped into his favorite armchair and patted his lap. "To my credit, Stefan knew about it before me, and he didn't tell anyone about it, either. I had to find out when Uncle Dearest tried to kill me two days ago."

"Please don't bring me into this," Stefan requested in a tone of long-suffering.

"Shut it, Cullen," I told him.

"I swear to you, I am nothing like that character."

"What she said," Damon repeated, not even looking at his brother.

Stefan heaved a pained sigh and got to his feet, casting a longing look at the drink and book he was abandoning.

"Out," Damon barked, and true to little-brother-form, Stefan was gone a moment later.

Damon patted his lap again. "Come over here and tell Daddy what's wrong," he purred.

"Don't call yourself that," I dead-panned, and then to prove my point, sat down in the chair Stefan had vacated.

"Are you mad because I'm being kinky or still mad about me not telling you?"

A slight pressure was building in my temple and trickling down to my sinuses. I bit my lip to distract myself from the pain with more pain. "I'm mad," I said steadily, "that the uncle who's abused me, tried to kill you, and generally just fucked up our lives in the past is back in town, and you knew about it and didn't tell me. We don't keep secrets from each other, Damon."

He barked a humorless laugh and leaned forward. Coldly, he shot back, "That's bullshit, and you know it, Siddie. All we seem to do is keep secrets from each other. You've been hiding your little conversations with Elijah Fucker-son for almost a month, now."

My stomach dropped out of my body and onto the floor. My throat went dry. I croaked out; "How do you know about that?"

"He used it to taunt me last week," Damon replied quietly. "I didn't think it was true until now."

His secrets and mine came together and hung there, tense and thin, like a curtain between us. I wanted to tell him- wanted to tell someone other than Elijah- about my deal with the devil. Because I was carrying it all on my own, and the weight was suffocating me to the point where I couldn't think too much about it without crying. But I couldn't tell Damon, couldn't tell anyone, without running the risk of ruining our plan. And I loved Damon and all the others too much for that.

So instead, I said; "I can't tell you about me and Elijah, and I'm sorry for that, but there's a good reason and you'll find out soon enough. But there's no excuse for you not telling me about Uncle John. We're a team, Damon-"

"Unless it benefits you," he interrupted me, eyes burning. "And if you can't tell me the truth, maybe you should just leave."

"I-" I stopped, looked at him, then nodded and got to my feet. My throat was tight, and my eyes were burning. "I'm sorry," I offered softly.

Damon wouldn't meet my eyes. "So am I."

And since there was nothing else that I could say, I left.

Grocery shopping trips were the repetitive sort of occasion that lulled Keeley into a kind of hum that overpowered the rapid fire, anxiety-fueled information explosion that usually occupied her brain. Make sure there was a new container of coffee grounds, accompanied with enough honey and half and half to temper it. Quick stop in the paper aisle for the pens they liked (gel for Dad, ballpoint for Keeley), with an unavoidable peruse of the books for new biographies and possibly a pathetic romance novel, depending on how horny Keeley was feeling that particular day. (It was lucky that her dad never came along on these excursions.) Then a robotic check off the list Dad had texted her earlier that day, and a quick stop for some Kit Kats because Dad loved them (although he wouldn't admit it), and she liked seeing him happy.

To the checkout, tell the bagboy "no thank you, I don't want you to flirt with me under pretense of helping me with my purchases", and then through the wet, dark parking lot to Dad's station wagon, borrowed for the trip.

The three, burly men in leather jackets surrounding said station wagon were not a normal part of the expedition. Keeley skidded to a stop when she saw them, her boots squeaking across the wet pavement.

"Uh, think you guys've got the wrong car," she stalled, shifting back and forth nervously.

"You Keeley Saltzman?"

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie-

"Shit, yes. Um, yeah, you've got the right car."

God fucking damn it, Keeley.

"Good. Then let's have a little chat."

Caroline Forbes didn't cry that often; Stefan knew that much, at least. He had only seen her do so once, after accidentally drinking from Keeley when she was first turned. Caroline was crying again now, once more, because of Keeley.

Stefan was starting to think that girl was much more important than he gave her credit for.

"You know we're going to get her back, right?" he asked, delicately (awkwardly, actually, probably) sitting down next to Caroline on the front porch swing of the Boarding House. "We always end up getting them back."

The leader of the werewolf pack that had come to Mystic Falls, Jules, had called Caroline about an hour ago to tell her that some of her wolves had taken Keeley earlier that night, and if Caroline wanted her back, she would have to come meet them in the middle of the woods. Caroline had turned to Sidney, who had (reluctantly) called Damon for help. Not long after, a panicked Alaric had turned up, wondering if any of them knew why his daughter hadn't come back from the grocery store.

Caroline didn't respond to Stefan's attempts at comfort, except for straightening up and wiping away the few tears that had ended up escaping.

"But you do know that you can't go after her yourself," he clarified, "right? Because if you do, you'll get yourself killed- or worse."

And Caroline nodded, but when Stefan came back outside half an hour later, she was gone.

Why anyone would ever so much as consider kidnapping Keeley Saltzman was beyond me. She was a hyperactive weirdo whose only connections to the supernatural world were her father (who basically had her under surveillance 24/7) and Caroline, neither of whom were high profile enough to warrant being pressed for any kind of ransom. At least, I had thought Caroline wasn't important enough for that. Unless, apparently Tyler Fuck-wood got involved.

It was nice to know that my hatred for him was warranted beyond him just being a huge douche bag.

When I pulled up to the Boarding House, Stefan was standing on the front porch, looking a lot like a lost puppy. "What is it about me," he asked as I climbed out of my car, "that makes people want to leave me behind, so they can rush into dangerous situations?"

I groaned so deep I could feel it in my chest. "I'm guessing Caroline went after them?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"And Damon and Alaric," Stefan supplied reluctantly.

"God damn it!"

Stefan's hands were on my shoulders, shoving me back toward my car even as he plucked the keys out of my hands. "I think I heard- I remember hearing where they told Caroline to go- that trailer park that popped up in the middle of the woods in the sixties. Let's go before they all get themselves killed."

"They'll be fine. They've all faced odds like this before," I supplied drily as I ducked into the passenger side. There was still that twinge of worry in the bottom of my stomach that was always there when I knew Damon, or my friends were fighting something or someone. But it was just werewolves, and Damon had managed to take down Mason easily enough. It wasn't like they were fighting Klaus or Elijah, this time.

At the reminder, I pulled my phone out and began composing a text to Elijah. I didn't think he needed to be there, but he had told me to let him know anytime the people he deemed "important" (me, my family, or the Salvatores) were in danger.

"Don't you remember?" Stefan asked, worry tinging his tone in a way I wasn't comfortable with. "Werewolf bites are a death sentence to vampires."

And then, I did. Rose had died from it not a week ago. That terrified bit in my stomach tightened and convulsed, and before I knew it, I was saying; "Go to the Lockwood mansion."

"Why?"

"They kidnapped one of ours, we'll kidnap one of theirs," I decided finally, hands slipping into my back pocket to clutch at my gun.

Stefan nodded, a grim look on his face, and turned us around the outskirts of the town, lights flickering across the rain-streaked windows, to the Lockwood mansion, and the boy who flinched back from my glare when he opened the door.

"I didn't ask them to do this," Tyler Lock-whore insisted.

"Doesn't matter," I bit out. "Why did they take Caroline and Keeley?"

Tyler-the-motherfucker sighed and ran dumb hands through his dumb hair. "To get me to join their pack or something- I don't know, but I don't appreciate it."

"So, are you?" I demanded, and then when he didn't answer immediately, pressed; "Going to join the pack, I mean?"

"I don't know," he answered noncommittally. "I need to think about it."

That dark, thick thing that Elijah had put in my chest reared its ugly head, and I found myself pressing the barrel of my gun into Tyler's stomach.

I cleared my throat. "Let me make the decision for you. Get in the fucking car."

Dread hung around my arms and shoulders like a cape as I drove us to the trailer park. Stefan directed me from the backseat, where he kept the gun trained on Douchebag McGee's head. When we were a few yards away, I could hear the battle, and the moment we could see it, I threw the car into park and dashed into the fray.

Damon and Alaric were fighting back to back. Werewolves surrounded them, some turned, others not. There were no visible bitemarks on Damon. Good. I went for my gun- didn't have it, Stefan did, and a stake wasn't going to do shit against werewolves. Stefan was forcing Tyler out of the car-

We had a hostage. So, did they. I could negotiate- even if I wasn't good at it, it was something.

"STOP!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Every head turned to face mine, Damon's scowl far more menacing to me than the werewolves'.

I felt Stefan come up behind me, and saw the way eyes narrowed and mouths twisted into snarls when they all saw Tyler.

"Who's your leader?" Stefan asked stiffly. "We're making Tyler's decision for him."

A wolf with blonde hair and eyes so sharp I could see them in the dark stepped forward. She was staring directly at Tyler, something like hunger in her mouth, and I felt the urge to grab him and run. If someone had been looking at one of my people like that, I knew I would have.

But this was Tyler, Tyler who was hesitating to save Caroline and Keeley- Caroline and Keeley! The two people who, in my opinion, deserved to be saved the most; the most innocent, innocuous pair in Mystic Falls. Tyler was the one who had gotten them into this mess, and I would be damned if he wasn't the one who got them out of it.

"I'm the Alpha," said the woman, eyes still fixed on Tyler's. "Name's Jules. Ty, nice of you to show up, finally."

"Fuck off," Tyler snarked back. I bit my lip, not oblivious to the shakiness of his voice, and shook my head.

"Where are the girls?" Alaric demanded quietly. His hands shook where they gripped his gun.

Jules cocked her head in the direction of one of the trailers. An undeniably feminine scream came from inside that had my stomach bottoming out. I saw Stefan tense and Damon snarl. But Alaric was the one who started shooting.

The trailer park erupted in a way I had never experienced before. Several bodies fell. Several more turned into wolves. I saw Tyler jerk away from Stefan, and Stefan and Jules both lunge after him. I saw Alaric yank another gun out of his jacket and go ballistic. I saw Damon about to be bitten.

I ran like I hadn't since the fire. My stake went into a wolf and then was subsequently abandoned in her chest. Stefan had my gun- I didn't have a weapon.

"Siddie, what are you doing?" Damon's voice was ringing in my head.

I ignored him, kept going towards him. A wolf sprang at me, and in the absence of a gun to shoot, I punched it in the face. Another lunged. I ducked and rolled. There was some metal rod (a fire poker?) on the ground. I picked it up, turned, swiped a man across the stomach with it. He howled, and I plunged it into his neck, pulled it out again. Needed a weapon, couldn't lose this one.

I felt Damon against my back, protecting it. There was a pang of something like guilt in my chest. I couldn't think about that right now. Not when all I had for a weapon was a fire poker. Not when there were wolves to stab and people to protect.

Bodies fell. There were more screams from the trailer. My fire poker became so slippery that I nearly lost grip of it a few times. The smell of blood and sweat and shit was stronger than it had ever been in any other battle. Through it all, there was Damon at my back. And no matter how mad at each other we were, I knew he would protect me.

And then suddenly, it was over.

There was a man's cry, a wave of utter silence, and our enemies lay prostate about us.

A man I had never seen before, with dark skin and a newsboy cap grinned at us over the carnage. When I looked, Alaric, Stefan, and Damon all stood standing, Alaric the only one with any visible injuries. Tyler and Jules were missing. I let the fire poker clang to the ground, and wiped the mess of blood and sweat on my jeans.

"Who the fuck are you?" Damon demanded.

The man frowned, electricity sparking in the unreasonably blue eyes. "Jonas," he answered simply. "Elijah sent me."

Damon and I tensed at the exact same second. I sensed the same anger he had been throwing at me all week rise up in him again, and all I could do was wait for it to lash out. I felt sick to my stomach. That familiar dread circled around my neck like a noose.

Damon bit out; "And why would Elijah send you?"

Jonas cocked his head in my direction. "For her. He can't have her getting hurt so soon."

Oh, for crying out fucking loud!

"I don't know him!" I clarified, pointing decidedly at Jonas. "I do not know this man, and I did not know Elijah was sending him."

"That's not what I'm pissed about, Siddie," Damon growled.

Jonas was smirking. "I think I'll take my leave, now," he decided, and then he did.

Alaric had long since gone to free Keeley and Caroline. Stefan stood like a deer in headlights, then took off into the trailer after Alaric, muttering under his breath about "always being in the wrong place at the wrong time".

Damon turned on me and opened his mouth.

"Don't," I interrupted him. "Dear God, please don't, because I can't tell you why Elijah cares about me."

"You know as well as I do that I can't accept that!" Damon thundered.

I tipped my head back and squinted up at the stars, heart a shattering mess in my heart, crumbling down into my stomach. "Damon, please-"

"No, you please," he barked. His hands were on my shoulders, eyes searching mine intensely, pleading in a way that made tears burn at my ducts. "Sidney," he prompted, and then, "Siddie," he demanded, "what did Elijah say to you? What could he possibly have told you that would make you trust him?"

That there was a way to keep all of you safe. That none of you had to die this way. That Klaus was a force we couldn't even think of beating without his help.

"It doesn't matter," I insisted.

"Yes, it does. Because you're running into fights without a weapon. You're looking for threats everywhere. You're watching Elena like a hawk. You're jumping anytime someone gets near you. You're not sleeping. And I'm not going to let you kill yourself over this."

I couldn't say anything, because there wasn't anything to say that wouldn't sink me further in shit. So instead I just shook my head at him and started back toward my car. Tears began a steady trail down my cheeks and chin.

"Sidney!" Damon kept calling after me. "Sidney!"

But I kept my head down, kept walking, kept moving toward the darkness.

And I was alone.

Keeley had read about torture before.

She had read about the "Pain Woman" in the Vietnam War, who had been unleashed on American soldiers and made them scream so loud that their brothers in arms could hear them from their camps miles away. About how it had taken three snipers and four years to take her down. About how no one who went into her tent ever made it out able to speak again.

Keeley had read about Chinese Water Torture and why it took such a toll on your mind. About waterboarding and how there was only a certain number of times you could do it to a person before their lungs were messed up for forever. About how some senators were pushing for rape to be used as a form of psychological torture in Guantanamo Bay, even though it violated the Geneva Convention.

She had seen it in Silence of the Lambs, and Game of Thrones, and in Sidney Gilbert's eyes and scars. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare someone for the reality of it.

They had used a water gun.

Somehow, that was horrifying to Keeley. They had used a water gun full of vervain water on Caroline, and laughed as they sprayed her. There was nothing Keeley could do to stop them, so she had wrapped her arms around Caroline and held her, trying to deflect as much of the water as she could with her own body. That had lasted for a while, until the Alpha had come in. She had pulled Keeley off Caroline, had stuffed Keeley in a dog crate and told them to keep spraying Caroline until Tyler showed up.

And then when Tyler did show up, he had hesitated to let them free.

That was the angriest Keeley had ever seen Caroline- even more angry than when she had stormed into the trailer in the first place. She had lost it. She looked more like a monster to Keeley then than ever before, with patches of skin missing and blackness consuming her veins.

The wolf closest to Caroline had its heart ripped out of its chest. The water gun fell to the ground, and Keeley forced her hand through the slats of her cage to grab it and pull it out of the reach of the wolves. Tyler had snapped out of it and gone to release them, followed quickly by Keeley's dad. She hadn't seen his face like that since they thought her mom had died.

Things were a blur after that. Alaric and Stefan took Keeley and Caroline home. Damon handled Tyler, something a lot like rage on his face. Sidney was nowhere in sight, but Keeley spotted her stake buried in a dead wolf. Keeley pulled it out, brows drawn. It was gross, but she thought Sidney would appreciate getting it back- Keeley thought the other girl had said something about the stake belonging to her dead father, or something like that.

Dad and Damon left after dropping Keeley off to round up the rest of the wolves, and make sure they wouldn't be causing anymore trouble. And then, Keeley was alone again.

Normally, she would be happy about that.

Tonight, though, the shadows opened like jaws, and the piles of books looked more like prison watch towers. Keeley went to shower, but couldn't bring herself to take her clothes off. It still felt like she was being watched.

There was a knock on the door and she jumped nearly a foot in the air, grabbing the hunting knife Dad insisted she keep in her underwear drawer before going to answer it. A quick glance through the peephole confirmed it was Stefan, and he gave her a wry, apologetic grin when she opened the door.

"Hey," he rolled out, "how are you?" At the raise of her eyebrows, he amended, "Sorry. Dumb question. You're not great- Can I come in?"

Keeley nodded, and he stepped past the threshold, immediately scanning her for any visible injuries. Stefan's eyes landed on her wrist, mangled from her reach out of the dog cage. He held it up to his face, twisted in apology.

"You're bleeding," he stated dully.

Keeley's lip quivered. Her hands tightened into fists, and she let herself begin to cry. "Yeah," she answered, voice thick. "That's what people who have been kidnapped and stuffed in dog cages tend to do."

She hated the look on his face, pitying and apologetic and sad. She hated it even more when he enfolded her into his arms and held her as she broke down.

"I'm sorry," he kept saying. "I'm so sorry. But I promise, this is never going to happen to you again- I'll make sure of it."

A/N: What's up, guys! Hope you all had an amazing Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanzaa/Pagan Winter Solstice/Other-winter-themed holiday! I also hope that you enjoyed this new chapter, so please leave a review below if you did! Thank you once again for your amazing support of these stories, and expect a new chapter by Valentine's Day!

Next time: The pressure is on as Elijah and Damon each attempt to stake a claim on Sidney's loyalty, pushing her to her limits, and forcing her to finally pick a side.