Thicker than Blood

Chapter Ten

Hunger. It drives a vampire. It's their entire reason for existence.

I never expected it to taste so good. But I can control my bloodlust. Stefan never could. Just another way we were opposites. It shouldn't bother me, but it does. He is my brother and I still feel responsible for him—and for Damon, too. They are my family and while sometimes I want to stake them for being idiots, they're all I have.

I can't imagine eternity without them. I refuse too.

~Elizabeth Salvatore's Diary

2009 – Over a Hundred Years Later

Life in Mystic Falls was always an adjustment after being away. Elizabeth grew used to being alone. Plus, some days Mystic Falls didn't seem large enough for three Salvatore vampires. It was the Italian blood – it made them opinionated hotheads. Being a vampire only amplified their natural personalities.

While Damon played mind games with a blonde human (Liz couldn't help but relax knowing it kept him from his obsession with Katherine) and Stefan mourned the loss of Lexi, she was left to help cover their tracks. Since Damon went rouge and munched on the history teacher/football coach, she'd been keeping an eye on the replacement. Alaric Saltzman seemed a godsend and that immediately worried her. His credentials were perfect, but his past bothered her.

Mr. Saltzman was suspected of murdering his wife. Her disappearance and his subsequent report to the police all but screamed 'vampire' to her. It was no coincidence that he'd taken a job in a small Virginia town hundreds of miles away from North Carolina and Duke University, where he had been previously.

No one willingly moved to Mystic Falls. Especially not with all the recent animal attacks in the news.

Elizabeth had to play the part of the good sister and look out for her idiot elder brothers.

That's how she found herself sitting at the Mystic Grill, nursing a beer while the new history teacher graded papers a few tables over.

He was easy on the eyes, much like her last boyfriend, but had an air about him of intelligence. Scott had been pretty, but brains weren't what drew her to him. Too bad still seemed hung up on his dead wife. That's the impression she got from the snatches of conversation she'd overheard and from the ring he still wore on his hand.

Then he stepped inside.

Tall, dark, and handsome. In the 1880s, she would have fanned herself and perhaps swooned. A battered leather jacket clashed with his dark jeans in a good way, and his brown hair was nearly as long as Damon's. A few strands fell into his eyes. Sexy.

Instead of approaching the bar, he sat down beside the history teacher.

"Sam, you made it!" Alaric stood up, clapping him on the back as he tugged him into an embrace. They reacted like old pals, not lovers.

At first glance he didn't stick out. Young, but not a child. His clothes were decent and fit him well, yet weren't designer labels. Studious and soft-spoken from the snatches of conversation she picked up across the bar. Interesting, but not a heartbreaker swatting girls away like flies.

"Of course! You tell me you're living in a small town that just happens to have a Civil War past and you expect me not to show? Ric, c'mon, how long have we known each other?" the stranger said.

"Too long."

Liz smiled to herself, still listening in from across the room. She filtered out the other noises, the tinkling of glasses and the chatter of patrons and servers alike. She had one interest—the two men.

"How's high school treating you?"

"Not bad for the most part. A few delinquent students seem determined to test my patience. I have one kid who didn't even bother to hide that he copied his paper from the internet. He did everything but leave the web address attached."

Alaric's buddy snorted. "Some kids never learn."

"Yeah, and how's your book?"

He shrugged. "Stalled. I need some inspiration… or some sources. I never thought it would be this difficult to write about small towns during the Civil War. So much of it is the same old story."

"What about this area? There's a ton of history here. The town keeps great records and lots of artifacts. There's bound to be some first-person sources and other anecdotes no one has ever seen before."

"Like what?"

Liz watched as the teacher pulled out a binder. "What do you know about the Battle of Willow Creek?"

Her hand clenched around the beer bottle so tight it nearly shattered. What were the odds? Really, what were they? Mystic Falls was the quintessential small town. Tourists and strangers didn't arrive often or last long thanks to the supernatural element. Two new arrivals in the last few weeks? No, that wasn't normal. And two arrivals who were history buffs? Even less.

"Not much. Why?"

"There were tons of civilians killed. In fact, the church in the middle of town burned down. You could put it in your book."

The other man nodded. "I'll look into it. Hey, where's a good place to crash around here?"

"There's a few hotels not far from here, if you don't want to crash on my couch."

"Nice try, Ric. This isn't college. My couch-surfing days are behind me," he said in good spirits. "No worries, I do plan to raid your fridge and drink all your beer."

Liz failed to suppress a smile.

"I stocked up. Tell you what, I've got a few more papers to grade then I'm free. Why don't you head over to my place and I'll bring over some pizza? We'll drink and catch up. Tomorrow, we'll book you a hotel."

"Sounds a like a plan, Ric."

They shook hands and exchanged directions, plus Alaric's house key. Liz finished her drink as he got up. No one would blame her for being curious. No one would even know she followed him. Being a vampire did have its upsides.

The stranger's car wasn't much to look at. An old two-door Jeep in need of a paint job, it appeared well-loved since it started without a sputter on the first try. Liz couldn't help but be impressed as she slid behind the wheel of her own car – a classic Charger her brother helped pick out.

Her car turned over with a flick of the wrist. She pulled onto the road after the stranger, her curiosity getting the better of her. It was the witch blood.

Instinct drove her. It had since childhood. Liz hated and loved it at the same time. Her gut feelings were rarely wrong. As if hearing about the Battle of Willow Creek—the so-called battle that turned both her brothers into the undead—wasn't reason enough.

About five minutes outside of town, she knew why she had a feeling.

A rear tire on the truck blew, forcing him to swerve alone the heavily wooded road. She saw him grip the wheel, fighting to keep the truck under control. But he couldn't. No one could.

She watched, almost in slow motion, as the truck somersaulted, rolling once, before hitting a tree with a sickening crunch and screech of metal. Smoke rose from the crumpled hood.

Liz threw her car in Park. She left the keys inside as she jogged across the deserted road. Could he still be alive? Was that even possible?

When she reached the Jeep, she knew it wasn't for long. His breathing was ragged, his lungs rapidly filling with blood, his forehead scratched and bleeding from the shattered windshield. She yanked the dented door open. He groaned, a faint, pained sound.

Without another thought, Elizabeth bit into her wrist, drawing her blood. She lifted it to his mouth, letting the thick blood dribble into his mouth.

Her brothers would scold her for saving a stranger. What use was being a vampire if she couldn't save lives? She wasn't about to turn him—just heal him. A bad car accident shouldn't kill an innocent man.

Besides, it's not like she'd ever see him again.

Her blood took effect. His breathing eased and his heartbeat evened out. She let out a sigh of relief when he opened his eyes.

"Who…what…?" he started to say, his lips wet with her blood.

"You were in an accident. It was bad. You got lucky. You never saw me," she compelled, carefully closing the door.

He blinked, still trying to see her through the glass as she hurried back to her parked car. She had to disappear before anyone else arrived. The stranger would live—that's all that mattered. And if he lived, she would find out why he'd been drawn to Mystic Falls. Why Alaric Saltzman had come to town. She could find out what they knew.

If she didn't, who would protect her brothers?

Author's Notes:

Liz's transition is next. Unlike Damon, she doesn't turn people for kicks or feed them her blood often. Please review and thanks for reading!