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CHAPTER 13:
WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY?
Abandon (verb): cease to support or look after someone; desert
"Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air."
"'Harry, I'm sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.' … 'Well,' said Harry slowly, 'I'm not. I'm pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren't sticking with your own kid, actually.'"
"I hate the way you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little. Not even at all."
"God knows what is hiding in this world of little consequence, behind the tears, inside the lies, a thousand slowly dying sunsets."
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanic potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregation et secta diabolica."
Bit by bit, Snow was growing accustomed to the pampering associated with being a teenager, the mere possibility of indulging in anything a forbidden act in her case, even the minor necessities of everyday life, thus decreed by Lucille Silverstone. For the past week, she had been under the watchful care of her newly discovered and recently emerged godfather, and regardless of the initial days of bed rest in the Intensive Care Unit, and the remaining days spent with her friends in a marathon sleepover, Logan and Snow managed to bond and while it might be considered too soon, she loved him dearly and irrevocably, wholly incapable of imagining the rest of her life without him in it.
Waking up, her feet sore and blistered, a consequence of spending the night dancing in heels and concluding it by running away from a maniac predator with stalkerish tendencies – also in heels, the heavenly aroma of the very delicacies she was prohibited from indulging in wafted into her bedroom through the crack under her door, attacking her olfactory receptors. Violet orbs popping open, no longer hazy with sleep, Snow jumped out of bed and, her feet bare, padded out of her room, down the hall and into the kitchen, shock perpetually etched on her face and clad in well-worn checkered pajamas – a 'gift' from Lucille who had, one day two years ago, hurled it at her face, claiming it cost her a "pretty penny at the thrift store" and "I expect it to last you till I no longer have to see your face again!"
"Un-Uncle Logan, what's all this?"
Turning around, having heard her hesitant approach yet sticking to the partial vow he made to himself to give her some semblance of privacy and normalcy, Logan, barefoot and dressed comfortably in grey sweatpants and a white wife-beater shirt, grinned widely at the dark-haired, violet-eyed seventeen-year-old, "Pretty sure it's breakfast, Jellybean."
Her wide eyes traveled the length of the kitchen. There were rashers of bacon sizzling and spitting on a medium-sized pan over the stove, an open carton of eggs on the counter, and a bowl almost filled to the brim with pancake batter. Furthermore, a bottle of orange and mango juice sat on the cypress kitchen island's quartz countertop, along with a carafe of water. On the other side of the spacious kitchen, the electric coffee maker emitted bubbling sounds.
Head shaking mutely, Snow was just about to insist that she was responsible for preparing breakfast, the words on the tip of her tongue, when Logan absentmindedly inquired, "How'd you take your eggs?" And that inquiry brought her up short, prompting her to still in bemused realization, absolutely rendered speechless by her unexpected epiphany. A beat passed, then another… and another. In an excruciatingly slow motion, a crease marred Logan's smooth handsome face and a collection of furrows crowded his forehead, awareness slamming into him with the full force of a stampeding rhinoceros. His body going through the motions, Logan numbly turned the knob, cutting off the gas and prompting the cacophonous sizzling of rashers to vaporize. A desperate plea in the undercurrent of his even voice, Logan hesitantly inquired, as though terrified of the answer, "You've never had eggs for breakfast?"
Cheeks flushed in an overpowering combination of shame and mortification, she clasped her hands to her front and lowered her gaze, her toes wiggling in discomfort. Suddenly, warm hands cupped her flamed cheeks and her head got tilted upward until watery violets met a pair of pained hazels. Maintaining silence, Logan patiently waited for her confession. "I-I've never actually had a proper breakfast before," she whispered, each and every regurgitated word a blow to his gut. "I mean, I'm responsible for cooking Lucille and the twins' meals and-, I, well, I'm only allowed an apple or a banana on my way out…" Trailing off at the sorrow, anguish and unmistakable guilt her words evoked on her godfather's face, she quickly endeavored to cheer him up, "But when I sleep over at Elena's, Caroline's or Bonnie's I have toast and coffee-" That didn't work. Mending her blunder, she rushed out, a slight hitch in her voice, "'C-Cause they ban me from cooking and Jenna can't cook to save a life a-and, Aunt Liz's always at work so it's just me and Care, a-and M-Mr. Hopkins travels, like a lot, and G-Grams—"
"Alright, I get it, that's, that's enough, Snow. That's enough." Releasing her, Logan buried his face into the palms of his hands, self-loathing emanating from his every pore. God… his goddaughter was treated like a slave! The very essentials of life, like the taste of food, were a complete mystery to her. Lucille Silverstone deserved a much worse fate than he had initially planned – once he was done with that hag, she'd be screaming for death, but it would be a cold day in Hell before Logan Fell allowed that woman mercy. Not from him. Never from him!
However, disregarding the sins of Lucille and her daughters, Logan found himself despising Stanley Silverstone. Irregardless of his reasons, he should have ensured Snow's safety in Mystic Falls, her happiness, her living conditions… he should never have chosen Lucille Styne; out of all the women in existence, to this day, Logan couldn't comprehend what the ever lovin' fuck he saw in her that made her worthy of nurturing Snow – that woman didn't have a motherly bone in her body, at least not to Snow. Furthermore, he could admit that he wasn't devoid of any blame; Logan blamed himself and every single adult in this danger-infested town, they all grew up together, babysat each other's children, and therefore were equally responsible for ensuring Snow was well taken care of. But…what's done is done, there was no changing the past. All Logan can do was look to the future and stop beating himself up over his errors.
Determination coursing through him, Logan pulled himself together and forced a reassuring smile on his face. "I tell you what, Snow. How bout we experiment, hmm? I'll make you scrambled and tomorrow, we'll try something new, see which you prefer, yeah?"
Timidly, Snow nodded, "You're, you're not mad at me?"
Horror coating his features, he emphatically shook his head and drew her into a hug, tenderly stroking her hair, "Never." Pulling her back, hands on each shoulder, he squarely met her gaze, "But, we need to go over house rules. First and foremost, everything you were used to at the Manor, we do differently here. Now go take a shower, get out of these ratty pajamas and we'll have breakfast together, 'kay?"
Enjoying a warm! shower, Snow allowed herself to soak in the deluge of positive emotions vibrating through her. Admittedly, the next few days, maybe even weeks, would be a trial; she had grown accustomed to a life of servitude, submitting to her step-monster's every demand and falling prey to her evil stepsisters' cruelty. Now, with Logan, she would be beginning a brand new life – no more waking up at the crack of dawn to clean the house from top to bottom, no more slaving over meals and washing after them, her only form of sustenance measly scraps, no more tiptoeing around the oppressing house terrified that one wrong move would earn her a beating and emotional abuse, no more sleeping in uncomfortable beds, no more rushing back home before the clock struck twelve… Basically, she no longer had to suffer through Lucille's tyranny. Her only issue would be breaking out of her conditioning.
Dressed in mom jeans – a social 'no-no' according to Caroline who never failed to shudder at the sight of those jeans hugging her best friend's lower body – and a plain black tank top, her wet hair lifted in a messy ponytail, Snow joined her godfather in the kitchen and deposited herself on one of the rotating stools that surrounded the island, a luciferous glow to her complexion. Eyeing her outfit in distaste, Logan casually mentioned through spoonfuls of scrambled eggs, "We'll stop by the mall later, buy you a whole new wardrobe. Maybe I'll call Carol. God knows she'll be over the moon at the chance to take you out on a shopping spree." A rueful grin colored his lips, "Then we'll burn your current wardrobe. Light up the fireplace and toss 'em all in. First to go will be that God-awful pajama you changed out of." He performed an exaggerated full-body shiver for comical effect.
"You don't have to. Really it's, it's no trouble. No trouble at all. I have enough clothes." Snow didn't want to be a bother; while she knew it'd never happen, a part of her feared Logan would find her more trouble than she was worth and abandon her. Emitting a long-drawn-out sigh, Logan carefully set his fork and knife down, neatly aligning them on his plate. "I know I don't have to, I want to. We gotta work hard on that hag's conditioning," he murmured, more to himself than the violet-eyed girl. "Snow, honey, what you've been wearing isn't clothes, especially not befitting the Silverstone Heiress. Okay, you know what-" he waved a hand through the air in effortless nonchalance, "-forget about the social expectations attached to your name. Another house rule, and that's for both of us: we always look our best. So, you're responsible for making sure I don't look like an idiot, just like I'm responsible for ensuring you don't wear rags. We both look out for each other in this household, yes?"
Deciding to make them equals would have a more positive impact on Snow than simply demanding things out of her and forcing her to obey him – a horrifyingly easy feat based on her subservient nature and kind personality. While his intentions were good and ultimately better off for Snow in the long-run, he didn't want to be a dictator. He never wanted to forcefully take away Snow's choices, to Logan Fell, free will was extremely important.
Mulling over his words, her eyes alight with a hopeful sheen, she slowly inclined her head, "When you put it that way, I guess it makes sense. Okay." They resumed their breakfast, which was a lovely affair, one of the best meals in Snow's life. Giddily eating, savoring the burst of new flavors on her tongue, the deluge of emotions encompassing her gave her a heady feeling – affection, fondness, happiness, love. However, upon finishing up, new sensations assailed her, the annoyance, fear and nervousness generating a dark cloud over her head. Carefully, almost tentatively, Snow searched Logan's smooth expression, "Uncle Logan? What's wrong?"
Logan forced a smile and produced a nervous laugh, "Why would you ask me that, honey? I'm perfectly fine." Skeptical, Snow nevertheless helped him clear out the island and when she moved to rinse the dirty crockery and cutlery, he stilled her with a hand, instantly maneuvering her away from the sink, "How 'bout I wash, you dry." His back to her, guilt marred his features and pervaded the air around Snow.
The washing and drying done, Snow approached him, her movement unsure, fearing rejection. A dainty hand on his shoulder, she prompted their eyes to collide, hazels questioning and clouded with guilt and violets emotional. "I can feel it…them. Your emotions, they're, I don't know how to explain it. Each emotion hits me, they come in waves. Nervous, fear, annoyance, even a bit hatred," she ticked them off her fingers, explicitly naming every negative emotion that had been burdening Logan since he had gotten out of bed that morning. "Don't you trust me?" she asked, her insecurity resurging.
"Wait, what? Snow, honey," he shook his head, confusion settling deeply on his visage. "What do you mean, you can fee-" sucking in a sharp intake of breath, Logan's eyes glazed over for a really long moment. And just when Snow's nerves were beginning to get the best of her, his eyes flashed back to her, palpable recognition warring with incredulity. Finally, he released a sharp, "You mean like an empath?"
The terminology was completely lost on her. Portraying a lack of eloquence, Snow blurted out, "A-A what?"
A hand hovering over the small of her back, Logan led her into the living room and, having her sink into the tufted three-seater sofa, deposited himself right next to her and inclined his body so that he could comfortably achieve eye contact, "In a nutshell, an empath is somebody that can sense the emotional state of others." Noting the color drain from her face, the consternated vampire solemnly asked, "How long have you been able to sense emotions foreign to your own?"
Snow's angelic face scrunched up in contemplation, her index finger tapping against her chin, "Uh, I think a year, maybe two…. No, no, definitely two years. But since Uncle Gray and Aunt Randa's dea-, since the accident it's been getting stronger. So, I'm an, an empath…" She tested the word on her tongue and at his uncertain nod, Snow's expression grew troubled. "Does that make me a freak?" her voice was small and she squared her shoulders defensively.
Visibly displaying the horror he felt at her inquiry, Logan quickly drew her into an embrace, "Snow, you are not a freak. Never say that. I'm a vampire, so are the Salvatore brothers. Elena's got an evil vampire twin, and Bonnie and her grandmother are witches. Does that make us freaks?" Completely appalled by the analogy, Snow hastened to vocalize a negative. Smiling, he chastely kissed her forehead, "You are gifted, special. I didn't even believe empaths existed, till now. Something I'm definitely gonna look into. You're unique, Jellybean. Embrace it."
Unbidden, the memory of Bonnie admitting she's a witch in Elena's bedroom reverberated in her head, and she felt ashamed at her hypocrisy. "Thanks, Uncle Logan. So does this mean you're gonna tell me what's been bothering you?"
Logan grimaced. He'd been avoiding this topic for too long. Snow had always been a sharp girl, and with her newfound empathic abilities he knew he could no longer hide the truth about her father any longer. Not only that, but it was unfair to keep it from her. "Snow-, Jellybean, I have something important to tell you. I want you to keep an open mind and not shut me or anyone out."
"You're scaring me," Snow stated, a million thoughts whirring in her head. Logan tucked a strand behind her ear, steeling himself for her subsequent reaction, "After your attack-" she winced at the reminder, "-you needed a blood transfusion, but, honey, your blood type was wiped out from their blood bank. Then, all of a sudden, a mysterious donor appeared out of nowhere and demanded to keep his identity confidential."
Confused, Snow merely bobbed her head as he reiterated the facts she already knew. When Dr. Jeffreys informed her of the miraculous turn of events, she inquired after a name, wanting to pass along her sincerest gratitude to her anonymous donor. "What about it?" she tentatively spoke up, head cocked, not seeing where Logan was going with all this.
Interlacing his hands with both of hers, he proceeded, "Naturally, I grew suspicious. The timing was just too much of a coincidence. So I snuck into Medical Records and, I discovered his identity." Hazels shuttered to a close and after a brief pause, he met her curious gaze, sorrow etched on his handsome features. His next words were ejected in a voice of forced calm, "It was your father, Snow."
Entire form stiffening, Snow felt her brain stutter at the unexpected declaration, every part of her on pause as her thoughts played catch up. Struggling to inhale and exhale, she couldn't remember how to breathe, equally unable to speak, her tongue numb and heavy. Blinking at Logan, who had been softly shaking her for minutes now, attempting and failing to grab her attention, she stared at him with an expression of stunned surprise, barely noticing him. Finally, her mouth desert dry and her throat like sandpaper, she hoarsely whispered, "My Dad is dead."
He didn't bother refuting her, thankful for the disclosure of her fortuitous empath abilities as it would force Snow to accept the truth, refusing to keep her in blissful denial. To the raven-haired girl's distress, the vampire's honesty was as clear as a cloudless sky. Her emotions malfunctioning, the Kübler-Ross Grief Cycle transpired differently; Snow underwent denial and then acceptance before settling on depression – anger and bargaining completely dismissed.
"Why? Why did he abandon me?" she wept, because that was the uncomplicated truth… Stanley Silverstone faked an elaborate death and moved on with his life, abandoning his daughter with a houseful of horrible people and apparently, not looking back once for the duration of eight long years. Her lying on her deathbed spurred him into donating blood, only to abandon her once more. In fact, if it weren't for vampires' uncanny ability to travel undetected and erase memories of their presence, Logan wouldn't have had the opportunity and means to unearth his identity and thus, Snow would have remained in the dark.
And now… now the memories she had of her father were all tarnished.
Keeping her in a long embrace, allowing her to cry into his chest, he carded a hand soothingly through her hair, "I don't know, honey. I've got a lot of theories, but they're all speculation."
For the rest of the day, Snow sequestered herself in her bedroom, unmoving from her reading nook and completely unresponsive to Logan's many attempts to comfort her or cajole her out of her room. Eyes lifeless, spark vanquished, complexion pale, and mind plagued with the unvarnished truth that her father had, in all actuality, abandoned her and that the gravestone she constantly spoke her heart and soul to, was a fake – and that was how Snow spent the remainder of what started out to be an amazing first day of her new life.
The coping mechanism Snow chose to pursue relieved and simultaneously worried Logan.
The following day, Snow emerged from her room for breakfast dressed entirely in black in a profound reflection of her mood. Then she smiled at him; smiled, like nothing had happened the prior day, like he hadn't divulged to Snow earth-shattering news. While genuine, Logan sensed it was slightly forced and that Snow was forcing herself to wake, move and sleep with the passage of each day. It was truly a juxtaposition, one that confounded him immensely – around people, Snow was all smiles, her movement and voice animated and lively, but when temporarily left to her own devices, her jubilance transformed into an eerie emotionless state.
Following the tremendous revelation that her father had taken advantage of and lived up to the title of 'absentee father' the mass of Mystic Falls bequeathed him with, Snow decided she wanted a break from the supernatural, meaning, excluding Logan, she didn't want to interact with anybody from the supernatural community – no Stefan, no Damon, no Bonnie, and no Elena, the latter a reluctant decision as she was always around her vampire boyfriend and their witch best friend. Logan had the feeling Snow merely yearned to feel normal following the revelation that she…well, wasn't.
Emerging from her room the next morning, Logan hesitantly suggested the shopping trip with Carol and to his surprised delight, Snow readily accepted. Afterward, he accepted an invitation to dinner at the Lockwood's on their behalf – a benefit being Logan receiving an invite into their home without evoking suspicion.
The next couple of days, Snow spent them in the company of Caroline and sometimes, Matt and Tyler. The blonde even slept over. And on one memorable afternoon, Snow and Logan cooked lunch together, him having lived a bachelor life, was only deft at breakfast, and thus, Snow cheerfully taught him the art of cooking while Logan taught her that cooking could be fun when it wasn't a chore. Baking alongside Caroline, the three of them ended up having a food fight with flour and cookie batter. However, throughout it all, Snow guiltily screened Elena, Bonnie and Stefan's numerous calls, delegating to Logan the awkward task of calling and informing them that Snow wanted a break from the supernatural drama that incessantly unfolded around them; Stefan the only one to comprehend her reasons as he was the only one with prior knowledge of Stanley Silverstone's alive status.
It was on the fourth day that Stefan finally knocked on their door with news that shattered Snow's precariously constructed bubble of normalcy.
Warily, Logan invited him inside, "Stefan, to what can we owe this impromptu visit?"
Discerning the rigidity of Snow's form and the way she resolutely avoided his stare, Stefan sighed, forest greens bright with sadness, "I'm sorry for just showing up like this, Snow. Logan made your wishes to stay out of…everything very clear." Swallowing, he tore his eyes from her to capture Logan's. "I was hoping we could talk. A lot's happened that you need to know about. It's important," he stressed.
"What's going on, Stefan?" Sensing the exhaustion, panic and utter fear radiating off the vampire snapped Snow out of her inner depression. With a sigh, Logan retreated and promptly emerged with two longnecks, as was starting to become tradition between the two vampires. "So," Logan prefaced, sitting next to Snow on the three-seater and wounding an arm around her shoulders. "What can we do for you, Stefan?"
Tersely, Stefan elucidated on the series of events that took place, starting from Stefan's lie to help Damon get Katherine out of the tomb, and ending in Anna kidnapping Elena – "And Damon won't tell me where Elena's being kept," he concluded with a desolate huff, taking a large chug from the bottle.
Brows knit together in disapproval, Snow shot him a look of unadulterated disappointment, "Well, of course he wouldn't. Stefan, you lied to him. You lied and backstabbed him. Damon trusted you and Elena, and both of you turn around and, and…" Trailing off, she shook her head, unable to assemble words that'd properly describe their awful act. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Stefan returned Snow's expression with one of his own, "Snow, I love the fact that you're forgiving and believe in seeing the best in everyone, but Damon and Katherine, it's a volatile combination. Katherine is heartless, ruthless, sadistic and merciless. With her out, no matter what Damon promises, a lot of people will end up hurt, including Elena."
But to Stefan's frustration and Logan's amusement, Snow simply said, "Love doesn't make sense. You can't logic your way in or out of love."
Simultaneously, Stefan groaned, "What has that got to do with anything?" and Logan chuckled, "I heard you were an incorrigible romantic."
Downing his drink, Stefan got to his feet, "I don't have time for this, look, I need to continue searching for Elena. She has Damon's blood in her system and-" Cutting himself off, he leveled them with a solemn look, "Anna—"
"Right, the head honcho piggy finally came out of the woodwork, huh," Logan mused aloud, a smirk on his lips that shrouded his concern for Jenna's niece.
"And from what Damon's been told, your sire," Stefan revealed. But Logan's posture exuded unconcern, wholly uninterested in Anna's fate. He didn't entertain any revenge fantasies against her. During his two month stay with the witches, Logan came to the realization that vampirism suited him and had come to terms with the fact that he made a better vampire than human – a harsh reality, but the truth nonetheless and he ultimately made his peace with his new existence. "I just came to tell you, no matter what, do not leave this house."
That sparked Logan's interest, his expression transforming completely. "And why not?" he sounded deceptively calm, like one wrong word could result in death and destruction.
"Damon may not care about what happens to Elena, but he does Snow," Stefan's gaze flickered from a furious Logan to a fearful Snow, both pairs of eyes intent on him. "Anna made a threat against Snow. She wants to form an alliance to get into the tomb. Her mother, Pearl's in there. Damon wouldn't budge though, so Anna made a comment about using Snow to…to make him more cooperative—"
A guttural, menacing growl escaped Logan and Stefan perceived the redness of his sclerae before he quickly slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to terrify Snow more than she already was. "She's a dead vampire," he snarled in a matter-of-fact tone, no longer tensed and jaw relaxed, and inwardly, Stefan couldn't help but be impressed by Logan's indomitable self-control. Shooting Stefan a penetrating gaze, Logan said, "You should ask Sheila Bennett for help, Stefan. Anna needs Damon for one reason, he has the grimoire. Meaning she already has a witch-"
"Bonnie," Snow whimpered, hands trembling in fear for her friends. She signed herself out of supernatural drama for a few days and two of her best friends managed to get themselves captured and held hostage by scheming vampires. Guilt consumed her and she buried her face in her hands.
Hope however, restored Stefan's dispirited attitude, "Of course. Don't worry, Snow. I'll get them back."
Peeking at him from between her fingers, in a small voice, Snow said, "When you do, can you… tell them I'm sorry for ignoring them these past few days."
Flashing her a comforting smile, Stefan departed.
A visit to a pissed off witch, a locator spell, and a threat to a newbie vampire later, Elena and Bonnie were successfully rescued by Stefan 'The Good Brother' Salvatore, and taken to Grandmother Bennett's House for safety reasons. And while the Bennett Matriarch fussed over the younger girls' wellbeing, Stefan ducked into another room with his phone whipped out and ready.
A novice to the craft, Bonnie stared at her Grams in awe, fascinated with the ease in which she found their location, "How did you know where we were?"
Smiling grimly, Sheila's dark eyes hardened, beside herself with fury at the vampires' audacity…to take a Bennett witch hostage! "Many things can fuel a witch's power. Worry. Anger. After Stefan told me they had taken you, I had a lot of both. Simple locator spell was easy after that," she explained, and despite the incensed rage coursing through her, Sheila Bennett portrayed utmost placidity.
"I'm sorry about all of this," Bonnie shifted on the sofa, a stab of guilt piercing her which quickly morphed into a strong gale of shame, engulfing her completely. It was her stupidity and gullibility that got them into this – if they hadn't managed to capture Bonnie, they wouldn't have grabbed Elena. Not to mention her initial bout of denial and therefore, failure to hone her power. If she had believed her Grams and allowed her to train her, then Bonnie would have instantly sensed Ben was a vampire. Furthermore, a voice inside her head, one that sounded like Caroline Forbes, acknowledged she fell for Ben's seduction because it felt nice to, for once, be the first choice and not second or third or fourth, as was the norm when she was best friends with three gorgeous, exotic and vivacious girls.
However, to the novice witch's shock, her Grams smirked, "Not as sorry as they're gonna be."
In the supernatural community, angering a Bennett Witch was foolish and downright suicidal, because regardless of the passage of time, even in death, the wrathful witches eventually exacted their vengeance. Unbeknownst to most of the living, their vindictiveness was a trait passed down by the Originator of the Bennett line.
Pocketing his phone and joining the trio of women, Stefan deposited himself on the sofa next to Elena who immediately clasped his hand, curiosity alight in her soft brown orbs, "Who were you on the phone with?"
"Logan," Stefan revealed with a sigh. "I promised him and Snow I would inform them once I found you two-"
Identical frowns on their visage, Elena and Bonnie looked away. Releasing a soft breath, her tone an amalgamation of hurt and hopeful, Bonnie asked, "Does that mean Snow's not mad at us anymore?" After the nth call to go unanswered, their worriment skyrocketed. Then one morning, on their way to class, Caroline offhandedly made a comment about a food fight with Snow and Logan before she slept-over and of how amazing Logan Fell was and of how they were missed, all before realization struck her and she inquired in bemusement "how come you guys weren't there?" which was when they knew Snow, for some reason, was avoiding them. It hurt, deeply, especially when Logan eventually confessed Snow wanted a small break from anything supernatural.
Sympathy colored his features and Stefan abruptly shook his head, attempting to put their fears to rest, "No, that's not it. Snow she's-, she hasn't been having a rough couple of days." Rubbing his temples, he fixated both girls with a solemn stare, "Logan recently discovered Stanley Silverstone's been alive this whole time. As you can imagine, Snow didn't take the news too well."
Surprised didn't even cover the girls' reaction to the wholly unexpected revelation. They felt like their entire world had shifted and the ground underneath their feet was crumbling apart, sucking them into the dark abyss of the unknown where secrets and the horrifying reality continuously piled up until they no longer recognized the life they were currently living. Elena and Bonnie couldn't shake off the sensation that every single one of them, including the denizens of the ostensible picturesque town they resided in, were living a complete lie.
"Mr. Silverstone is alive?" the girls intoned, each and every syllable laced with profound shock.
Responding with a nod, Stefan pursed his lips grimly, "He's the reason Snow survived the surgery. He was the anonymous donor." And upon that disclosure, forest green eyes flickered between the girls, observing as they made an attempt to process it all, which was how Stefan realized Sheila was seemingly the only individual unaffected by the shocking revelation, his suspicions promptly rising. …Was it possible, was Sheila Bennett the witch responsible for calling Stanley over?
Just as the suspicion struck him, the matriarch's soulful dark eyes snapped to meet his, cognizance in their depths.
Suppressing a shiver and filing those thoughts away to ponder over at a later hour, preferably with Logan, Stefan returned to their current quandary, "I need you three to stay here so I can protect you while Damon and Anna deal with finding a witch to open the tomb."
Hackles raised, Sheila scoffed, "A prisoner, in my own home? I don't think so."
"I can't protect you if you leave the house," Stefan retorted, familiar with the obstinacy of Bennett witches. The Bennett Matriarch remained adamant however, her decision unwavering, "We'll protect ourselves."
Noting the burgeoning tension in the room, and concerned for the state of her home and her loved ones, Elena finally let her opinion be heard, "We need to let him have Katherine back." Disregarding the fact that three incredulous pairs of eyes belonging to three expressions of disbelief were fixated on her, she continued, not budging, "He's not going to stop until he gets her. If we help him, maybe that ends it."
The main advocate of the Let's Bash Damon Club, Bonnie – who had been busy drowning in a reverie before Elena snapped her out of it – whirled around to glare at her friend, venom dripping off her tongue, "No! He doesn't deserve to get what he wants."
"What other choice do we have?" Elena countered in defeat, her eyes mostly focused on Stefan. "If this keeps up, Mystic Falls might enter a state of constant war. Damon and Anna both want in, and neither one of them are going to easily give up."
Sensing some merit in Elena's words, Sheila emitted a loud sigh, summoning their undivided attention, "Witches being pulled down by vampire problems. As much as we tried to do to stay out of it…" Coming to a decision, she nodded, determination in her voice, "I'll open the tomb. You get your brother's girl and destroy the rest with fire. Then this will be all over." Elena was correct after all, neither vampire will give up, meaning, she needed to take them out of the equation, for good.
"We still have to get Damon to agree," Stefan grimaced, and unbidden, Snow's unvarnished rebuke reverberated in his skull, creating a sudden surge of guilt he hadn't felt when he initially lied to his brother and proceeded to backstab him. Elena was quick to point out that he already agreed last night. "Yeah, and then we double crossed him. So now he's angry."
More versed in the intricacies of emotions as a result of her friendship with Snow, Elena disagreed, "He's hurt. There's a difference. I think I know what I have to do." However, before Elena got to her feet, Bonnie's shaky voice stopped her short.
"Grams, there's something else… something I've been keeping to myself for a while," Bonnie was hesitant, her gaze unable to hold anyone else's. Instead of prodding for the unveiling of the secret, Sheila maintained her silence and patiently awaited her granddaughter's next words, whereas Stefan and Elena shifted curiously. "That night, when Emily possessed me, right before she left my body, she told me, she told me that 'the Pure needs to be protected, no matter the cost'."
Incredibly baffled, Elena looked to Stefan, "The Pure? What's a Pure?" Stefan however, shared his girlfriend's sentiments, equally flummoxed; throughout the entirety of his immortal life he had only been aware of the existence of vampires and witches.
Thin eyebrows snapped together. Sheila, after mulling her granddaughter's words over, murmured in an exceptionally mystical voice, "I see… Bonnie, did Emily by any chance reveal who the Pure is?"
Bonnie inclined her head, worried frowns etched on her face as she uttered one name, "Snow."
Ejecting a low whistle, Logan folded his arms and leaned against the doorpost, ankles crossed and looking the perfect picture of nonchalance. "You must have truly hit rock-bottom to be standing on my doorstep," he stated in amusement, an eyebrow arched and corners of his mouth slowly quirking into his trademark smirk.
Eyes rolling halfheartedly in their sockets and posture downhearted, Damon shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and muttered, "You have no idea." When Logan maintained the state of quietude that elapsed between them, acute hazel orbs analyzing the Salvatore brother before him, Damon huffed out an impatient exhalation of breath, "Snow around?"
"She's sleeping," Logan stated succinctly, eyes still perusing him.
Electric-blue orbs shuttered and withdrawing a hand from his pocket, Damon dragged it down his face. "Great. Just great," he groaned, turning to leave.
"You know," Logan prefaced pointedly, the sound of his voice prompting the woebegone vampire to halt in his tracks and look at him from over his shoulder. "While you never stopped by, Snow made sure to invite you. Said despite everything you've done, she trusts you." Surprised, Damon pivoted around, his eyes automatically colliding with the pair of hard hazels, bereft of speech. Logan on the other hand, wasn't the least bit inarticulate, "I'm not gonna lie, I'm not thrilled by it, but…I trust Snow and from what I've seen, she's good a great judge of character and has yet to be wrong." Uncrossing his ankles and pushing himself off the doorpost, he wordlessly gestured toward the warmth of his house.
Hesitating for a fraction, Damon shrugged right before he shuffled inside, eyes raking the interior as Logan shut the front door behind him.
Bypassing him, Logan closed the distance to the expansive home bar. It exuded a homey, elegant vibe with exotic wood of polished cherry, stylish veneer, garnet carpeting and tempered glass, and was situated in the far corner of the living room, segregated by a wrap-around bar-table. Five bar stools dotted the bar-table, thirty inches in height, high-backed with garnet padding on the seat and mid-back area. The other side of the bar-table was furnished to the nines with a built-in sink, a small refrigerator and a wine cooler, a blender, cocktail shaker, an ice bucket, and a bottle opener. There were wall-mounted open shelves showcasing a bottle of almost every alcoholic drink imaginable while the refrigerator was stocked with a variety of juice, soda, and garnishes. Below, the cabinet was loaded with glassware and adjacent to the built-in sink were Angostura bitters, tobacco sauce and a jar of salt and sugar. Overhead, hung a pendant lighting fixture which further enhanced the homey feel.
Impressed, Damon stopped short, "Bit much, don't you think?"
"Hah! You kidding, this is my castle," Logan barked out a good-natured laugh as he went around the bar. Feeling the electric-blue gaze burning a hole into him, he paused to squarely meet his stare. "I'm a bachelor," he said by way of explanation, it making perfect sense to him, if not Damon. "And now-" while he spoke, he withdrew two short-glasses from the cabinet, filling one with scotch and the other with bourbon, "-that I'm a vampire, I'm an eternal bachelor, so I can fully enjoy all this with an improved tolerance. In my book, that's a great reward."
Accepting the proffered glass of bourbon, Damon held it limply in his hand and stared, not daring to take a sip unlike Logan, who immediately chugged his back and poured a refill. "It's not poisoned," mischievous hazels rolled in their sockets.
"Why?" Damon voiced suspiciously.
Cocking his head, Logan filled out a bar stool and cradled his drink, "Why isn't it poisoned-"
Cutting him off with a snarl, Damon snapped, "Why are you doing this? You let me in, poured me a drink. And, and you're acting weirdly nice…" Trailing off, he masked his bemusement with a glower, "What's your game, Fell?"
Displaying his stellar tendency to flip between moods, any and all signs of lightheartedness and mischief were erased from his countenance. He resumed the uneasy penetrating stare from earlier, giving Damon the impression he was either reading his mind or piercing his soul, or probably both. Shifting, furious over his discomfort at being stared at by a baby fricking vampire, Damon sneered back, eyes cold like a glacier. Tipping a honey-blonde brow, Logan slid his drink back and interlaced his fingers together, "For starters, it doesn't take a genius to realize things didn't go as planned for you. Last I heard, the plan was to open the tomb this night. However-" throwing him a pointed look, "-instead of skipping off into the sunset with your lost love, you're here… In my house."
Like a locked phone or logged off computer, Damon's expression shut-down. Truth be told, he didn't know he was coming here until he stood by Fell's doorstep, fist knocking on his front door. He belatedly realized he wanted to bask in Snow's company – the sweet, kind-hearted girl who saw the best in everyone, and possessed an unlimited repertoire of words of wisdom and encouragement. He had a feeling Snow Silverstone would turn his dejectedness upside down and instill him with optimism and joy. But to his misfortune, she was currently unavailable, her guardian obviously not about to wake her up to boost the confidence of a trigger-happy vampire with rage issues and the cause of the all the death and destruction that occurred in Mystic Falls. And then Logan offered…
"Don't flatter yourself. I came for Snow," he snapped, teeth gnashing together.
Teeth barred in a menacing smile, Logan maintained eye contact, fire brewing in the depths of his hazel orbs, before his mouth slowly clamped shut and spread into a sardonic smile. A mirthless chuckle escaped him. "Trust me when I say this, Salvatore, I dislike you so very much. I despise the fact that my goddaughter found something worthy in you. However-" he abruptly changed course, pensive all of a sudden, "-like I mentioned before, I've studied you while I was away and I like to think I gotta good read on you. You need to vent. You're desperate to spill your guts to someone. Not your brother, no he lied to you. Not Elena, she shares the face of your lost love. Snow's asleep, and like Hell am I waking her up after the couple of horrible days she's been having. You haven't bothered making any friends here. So, that leaves…me," he sarcastically threw both hands out in mock exuberance. "Trust me, I've always had shitty luck at winning the lottery. Never won anything before in my life, can you believe it," he deadpanned. Hands clapping together, he grabbed his short-glass and raised it in the air, "Better I suffer in your company than the masses out there, none of whom deserve to be recipients of your lash out."
He then chugged back his drink – again. Blindly reaching for the bottle of scotch he had the forethought to leave on the bar-top, Logan poured a refill – again.
And despite everything, the corners of Damon's mouth crept upward, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Your opinion of me makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," he quipped dryly. Logan saluted him. Approaching the bar with slow footsteps, Damon took a bar stool, ensuring another created distance between them. "Just to clarify something, this doesn't mean we're friends."
Hand flying to his chest, Logan gasped in mock horror, "Perish the thought."
Against his will, Damon snorted and finally indulged in a mouthful of bourbon. For a while, not much was spoken between the antagonistic vampires, the minutes spent drinking and occasionally refilling their glasses, the air around them calm and erected from a temporary truce. After having imbibed his first sip, Damon claimed his appreciation over it being "the good stuff" which prompted an almost offended retort of "of course it is!"
It was after Damon's third refill, did he finally blurt out, "Katherine wasn't there." The laconic explanation was instantly understood by Logan. Donning a confused expression, he arched an eyebrow, silently probing for a more thorough explanation. "According to Pearl, she's An—"
"Head honcho piggy's mom. Yeah, yeah, I heard," flippant, Logan brushed a hand through the air.
Another snort was forcibly expelled from his lips at Anna's moniker. "Yeah. She said Katherine promised the guard locking them in she'd turn him. Apparently he was obsessed with her, like everyone else-" the 'like me' was unspoken, "-so he let her go. That manipulative bitch-" he cut himself off and knocked back his drink. "Anna told me she ran into Katherine in Chicago, 1983. All this time, Katherine's been out…she knew where I was and-, she didn't care," Damon bitterly spat out, trying to quash the need to both, blubber like a baby and perform mass murder.
The nicest, most supportive act Logan could do, was refill Damon's drink. And not give him an ounce of pity. Another spell of silence ensued, both vampires lost in thought. "Look, if I were you, I'd focus on one emotion. If you're fully set on rage, take it out on those who deserve it. Like Katherine and Anna," he uttered lightly.
"Katherine, I get. But why Anna?" Damon blinked, perplexed.
Smirking, his eyes dancing merrily, Logan simply pointed out, "All this time, Anna's been watching you run around like a headless chicken trying to get that blasted tomb open, when she's known Katherine was never down there." In afterthought, he added, "Plus, her blood turned me. If not for her, I wouldn't be around."
And to Damon's surprise, he laughed. Genuine laughter involuntarily burst forth from his lips, "You're not that bad."
Mirth and mischief intensifying, Logan drawled out, "Careful, Damon, you keep this up, I'm gonna think that on some deeper level, you actually like me."
Mimicking Logan's previous action, Damon placed a hand over his chest, his expression one of mock horror, "Perish the thought."
Suddenly, the sound of Logan's ringtone permeated the air, interrupting the unexpected moment of bonding between them.
Glancing down at the Caller ID, Logan promptly accepted the call. Shoving the phone beneath his ear, Logan drawled, his voice a panty-dropping purr that resembled rich honey, "Well, well, well… if it isn't my favorite witch." Meeting Damon's curious stare, he pressed a finger to his lips, "You know, your timing is impeccable, I was planning on calling you tomorrow."
"Logan," a female voice greeted before emitting an exhausted sigh. "I see you haven't changed one bit since I last left you."
A cheeky grin colored his lips, "That ship's sailed, darling. You know I'm stuck this way." Damon rolled his eyes and he could hear the witch on the other end release a reluctant chuckle, Logan's charm infectious. "Anyway, let's talk shop. We gotta lot to catch up on, like the fact you're Stanley Silverstone's flying monkey!" he snapped, his tone biting.
"What, Logan!? I don't know what you're—"
"Cut the crap, Sophie!" Logan suddenly let out a feral growl. Keeping his tone level so as to not wake Snow up, he said, "I found proof. I know he's alive and I know you're in touch with him. And I know you were the one to lead him to Mystic Falls when Snow got attacked. What I don't know is why you haven't told me."
On the other end, Sophie slumped in defeat and with her free hand, rubbed her eye. "He doesn't want Snow to know. It completely defeats the purpose of faking his death! I didn't tell you, Logan because I knew you'd tell Snow," she confessed, not a touch of commiseration in her voice. While she genuinely liked Logan and enjoyed his company, and while she could comprehend how horrible it must have been for Snow upon discovering the truth, her loyalties unequivocally lied with Stanley Silverstone. For that reason, she detached herself from the dysfunctional situation as she couldn't risk her emotions getting in the way and ruining everything.
Hand tightening around his drink, Logan let out an aggressive scoff, "Well, you're not wrong there. The cat's out of the bag now. Contrary to popular belief, I'm taking my role as Snow's godfather very seriously. Didja honestly think I'd let the matter go… that I wouldn't find it suspicious when some anonymous person who so happened to share the same blood type as Snow benevolently donated blood just when all hope was gone? You taught me better than that, Soph." He then mockingly taunted her with his next statement, "When it comes to the supernatural community, never trust a coincidence, they're rarely what they seem. Danica told me that."
Damon's lips pursed, the expression having made an impact on him. 'I'm gonna use that one…'
"Danica favored you too much. More than she was supposed to," Sophie huffed in mild irritation. Shrugging, Logan knocked back his drink, surprised when Damon poured him a refill. "It helps that her munchkin adores me," he boasted, an illegal smirk that reeked of smugness painting his lips. "Don't change the subject, Sophie!"
Silence ensued on both ends and Damon mouthed 'who's Danica', an inaudible huff escaping him when his inquiry went blatantly ignored. "Fine. I'll tell you something, but only because I'm desperate!" Sophie snapped, prompting an eye roll out of Logan. "I had Sheila Bennett cast a linking spell to Snow's heartbeat. It's like a beacon. When Snow got attacked, an alarm sounded and Sheila made sure I was immediately informed. Here's where the pickle comes in though. Sheila's dead," she revealed bluntly.
"What?" Logan hissed. Knowing the pivotal role the Bennett witches had in the opening of the tomb, his glare automatically sought Damon out, only to find the Salvatore vampire just as surprised as him, if not more, a crease of confusion having materialized between his brows.
Bulldozing onward with the compassion of a saint, Sophie proceeded to explain her conundrum, "That brings me squarely at an impasse. With no witch to protect Snow or at least inform me of her condition, I can't protect her. So I need you to keep me updated until this matter is solved."
Thoroughly distracted from his woes by the surprising situation, Damon mouthed something to Logan, who nodded and relayed the message, "What do you get out of it? Why are you so adamant in protecting Snow?" Suspicion rolled off his tongue, lacing each and every word.
"That's a personal matter, Logan," Sophie retorted brusquely; jazz music blared in the background which easily pierced Logan and Damon's eardrums. Excusing herself for a moment, after a moment, silence ensued, allowing them to speak freely. "Look Logan, it's personal, all I can tell you is that we promised Stanley we'd protect his daughter. And yes, before you ask, of course a price was asked in exchange. We're not guardian angels, we have lives, you know," she grumbled, obviously the topic being a touchy one.
Maintaining an amicable composure, Logan genuinely asked, "What can I do for you, Soph?" Despite his current anger and their secretive alliance with Stanley, he held a deep respect for witches, especially Sophie's coven. Irregardless of their motive, if not for them, Logan would've probably ended up dead or become a ruthless vampire ruled by bloodlust – the very thing he feared and was raised to hate with a passion.
Her approach pragmatic, Sophie adopted a crisp and professional tone as she rattled off, "Mystic Falls has a sad shortage of witches. The same can't be said for vampires. There are two directions we can take: either Bonnie Bennett quickly catches up in the craft and reaches Sheila's level so she could take over her previous job, or we locate another witch. Personally I'm more partial to that last one. Either way, I need you to keep me updated."
His lips curling upward, Logan snidely remarked, "Or you can give me Stan's number and address so I can rip him a new one. I'm more partial to that."
Fist pressed to his lips, Damon swallowed back a chuckle.
"This isn't up for negotiation, Logan!" Sophie let out an annoyed yell. "Just keep me updated, okay? …Please," she sighed in defeat, her tone desperate.
He didn't like it, but personal feelings aside, Logan couldn't deny the crucial part the witches had in saving Snow's life. He'd be a fool to pass up the benefits of having a powerful coven on call. "I promise," no sooner had he made the vow did Sophie end the line, cutting off further communication between them.
Before Damon could initiate a game of twenty questions, Logan cut him off. "Yes, Sophie's the witch who found me and made me my ring. No, I'm not telling you any more than that. And probably, Stanley had her looking out for me once news of my return to Mystic Falls reached his attention. I am kind of a celebrity after all," he couldn't help but cockily insert, prompting a heavy scowl from the other vampire. "Anything else, Cupcake?" He smiled mockingly – they may have had a moment, and the tension between them might not be as thick as before, but that didn't mean, in no uncertain terms, that Logan trusted Damon Salvatore or liked him, and he wouldn't share the coven's secrets or location to him, at all.
"I really hate you," Damon grumbled, turning his attention back to his bourbon.
Emitting a half-scoff, half-chuckle, Logan pointed out, "I'm sure your hatred of me pales in comparison to Bonnie's hatred of you. You do know that Sheila died because of magical exertion, right? Meaning, 'cause of… drum rolls please," he adopted the voice of a game show host. "You!" he finally revealed in mock cheer before chugging back his drink and adding another refill.
Damon grimaced and rubbed his temple, "Just what I need… a vengeful witch on my tail. And not just any witch, but a Bennett witch. That can't be good for my health."
He raised his glass, a mischievous smirk that screamed Logan wasn't up to any good on his face, and his voice thick with humor, "But it'll be one heck of a show. Cheers, Cupcake."
A woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and warm green eyes dressed in a long, white nightgown stepped into a room and flicked on the lights, revealing a nursery. A child who looked to be around four-years-old with shaggy dark blonde hair and wide green eyes identical to the woman's, had his tiny hand clutched tightly in hers, his eyes gleaming happily at the sight of the crib.
She beamed down at him, her eyes fond, "Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother."
Crossing the room to the crib, the woman cooed at the infant, doe brown eyes staring up at her. The baby gurgled at the sight of his mother and brother. The little boy leaned over the side of the crib, kissing the baby on the forehead before saying in a childish voice, "'Night, Sam."
"Goodnight, love," the woman said, leaning over him and brushing his hair back before placing a kiss on his forehead as well.
The scene abruptly shifted; the same woman stirred in her bed as the baby monitor, which sat on the nightstand, emitted strange noises. Turning on the lamp, a pucker of confusion between her brows, she blindly reached over to the other side of the bed. "John?" She, however, was met with air, and turning over, she found herself in bed, alone.
Feet planted on the ground, she left her room and padded along the hall, confusion still the main emotion on her face, though a hint of weariness lurked within her expressive green eyes. Stopping by Sam's nursery, she peered inside to see silhouette standing over the crib. "John? Is he hungry?" she voiced in a hush.
Head turning a fraction, the shadows around him masked any distinguishing features. "Shhh."
"All right." Smiling, the woman left the room and retook her previous steps back to her room. However, she froze in place once the lights by the stairs began to flicker. A frown on her face, she tapped the light until it steadied, a pensive hum leaving her. Lights from downstairs flickered up the stairs and her frown grew even more pronounced, green eyes a fraction wide.
Deciding to investigate its source, with each step she descended, noise from a television permeated the air and she stopped at the landing, her eyes widening as they flickered from the war movie playing on the television to the back of a man with jet black hair asleep on the sofa, his face buried into a pillow.
For a brief second, her visage portrayed shock and fear, both emotions battling for dominance. Spurred into activity, she flew up the stairs, her healthy complexion draining of color as she shouted at the top of her lungs, "Sammy! Sammy!"
She entered the nursery and as the scene began to darken, a loud, high-pitched scream rent the air.
The darkness slowly started to brighten as the scene panned to the man downstairs who had promptly jolted awake at the scream. Focusing on the man's back, he ran up the stairs, three steps at a time, and barged into the nursery. The room was eerily quiet and empty except for the infant who lay awake in his crib. The back of the man's head shifted from left to right, searching for the woman as he approached Sam. "Hey, Sammy. You okay?" he had a deep, rich voice with hints of husk.
A drop of crimson rained from above, creating a splotch next to Sam and the man – John, lightly brushed a finger against it just as two more drops followed, splattering on the back of his hand. John instantly glanced up at the ceiling. The image altered, zooming in on the familiar figure sprawled across the ceiling, barely alive as she stared down at them with pain and tears welling in her vibrant eyes, the stomach of her white nightgown a spreading pool of crimson.
The man sank into the ground, and although his face couldn't be deciphered since only the back of his head was shown, he let out an agonizing shout, "No! Mary!"
Before his very eyes, the woman, Mary burst into flames; the fire began to spread over the ceiling as John stared, his body frozen in shock while Sam began to wail loudly at the top of his lungs. Snapped back to reality by the cry of his son, John hastened to the crib and cradled a crying Sam in his arms before running down the hallway; the room was ablaze and Mary's body could barely be seen.
"No!" John yelled.
The four year old boy scrambled out of his room, "Daddy!"
John shoved Sam into the boy's arms, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!" The boy, Dean obeyed and ran outside just as John retreated into the nursery
The scene abruptly shifted; outside the house, John hurried over and scooped Dean, who had a tight hold on Sam, into his arms, carrying them toward safety and away from the burning house. "I gotcha," he cried.
Suddenly, an explosion could be heard and the roaring fire blasted out of Sam's nursery window.
Once again, the scene shifted. However, it was a depiction of different location.
A tall, lean man in his early twenties with a mop of curly brown hair and familiar warm brown eyes unlocked the front door to an apartment. The interior was dark and quiet. Footsteps slowing, he warily called out, "Jess?" Receiving no response, he slowly closed the door, though his eyes remained wary, "You home?"
His eyes flickered around the room and almost instantly landed on a plate of chocolate chip cookies that sat on a table, a note beside it with the words 'Missed you! Love you!'. The man picked a cookie and took a bite just as he snuck into a bedroom, a wide smile on his face.
From the adjoining room, the shower could be heard running.
Making himself comfortable on the bed, he stretched out, placed his folded hands underneath his head and closed his eyes. All of a sudden, a crimson drop splattered on his forehead which was quickly followed by multiple drops. Flinching at the foreign intrusion, his eyes snapped open, a gasp of horror immediately leaving his lips as his face morphed into an expression of utmost horror.
A beautiful woman with golden blonde curls and a beauty spot between her brows was pinned to the ceiling, wide blue eyes devoid of life staring down at him as blood pooled from her stomach.
"No!" the man screamed in despair, his eyes never leaving Jess as she promptly burst into flames and the fire began to spread across the ceiling and down the walls, engulfing the room in fire.
At that moment, a door banging open and slamming against the wall echoed throughout the apartment, and a deep, husky voice, fear and alarm potent in his tone, yelled out, "Sam!"
Sam raised a hand to shield his face from the bright flames, crying once more, "Jess!"
Another man who looked to be in his mid-twenties with dark blonde hair styled in a short-crop and familiar green eyes stormed into the bedroom, stopping short by the kneeled figure of Sam as he persistently shouted for Jess. "Sam! Sam!" the newcomer yelled before noticing the source of Sam's attention and he too, glanced up, his face contorting into a mixture of rage, horror and determination.
"No! No!" Sam repeated in despair. The newcomer, showing impressive upper body strength, grabbed Sam and hauled him out the door, all the while, Sam struggled against him, desperately shouting, "Jess! Jess! No!"
Just then, flames engulfed the rest of the apartment.
Again, the scene changed completely. There was complete blackness, and through the darkness, a pair of malignant, yellow eyes stared at her from the dark void, them being the only source of light. As the yellow eyes continued to stare at her, she saw and felt nothing good, only profound evil. They were malicious, and depraved, and repulsively iniquitous.
She clawed at her bare hands to combat the shivers of disgust, red staining her fingernails. She attempted to crawl away from that immoral, wicked stare, but despite the distance she covered, she couldn't escape evil's gaze. Suddenly, a dark, slimy voice echoed throughout the black abyss, yellow eyes widening in malicious glee as each and every word assailed her, "That is your Fate. You are next, Snow Silverstone. There is no escaping me! I can feel your presence… and I will be coming for you, very soon, beauty."
And as she screamed at the top of her longs, a cruel laugh reverberated in her ears, yellow eyes glowing, "See you soon, Snow Silverstone."
"AAAHH! NOOOOOO! AHHHHH! LEAVE ME ALONE, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Startled by her blood-curdling scream and the utter desperation in her tone, the two vampires burst into her room, the door slamming hard against the door. Fear potent on his visage, Logan ignored the ghastly sight on display and collected Snow in his arms as he attempted to snap her back into consciousness, hand carding frantically through her sweaty hair. The same couldn't be same for Damon; his visage shining with potent horror, he gaped dumbstruck at the image before him – soaked completely in sweat, her pajamas clinging to her body, which in turn clung to the bedspread, and hair plastered to her face and the nape of her neck, Snow turned and twisted unnaturally in her bed, legs kicking out and red-stained fingernails clawing at her bare hands like a crazy person, creating deep scratches in the process. However, it was her angelic face that did it for Damon, dousing him in unmitigated fear – her expression was one of pure agony and unadulterated fear, and her mouth open in a silent scream.
"Snow, Snow, wake up," his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear, Logan proceeded to continuously whisper in gentle tones. That, coupled with the soothing hand in her hair prompted the raven-haired girl to jolt awake, fearful violets snapping open and a sharp gasp emanating from her lips. Her body was completely tensed and it took her a few seconds to relax in her godfather's familiar embrace. "Uncle Logan?" she whimpered, her tearstained face a melancholic sight to behold.
Logan rocked her in his arms, "Shhhhh-shhhhh. Snow, honey, it was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare."
His calming words however, had the opposite effect on Snow. She rapidly and quite violently shook her head in adamant negative, her features a reflection of palpable fear. "No, no, it's not. Not a dream. He's, he's coming for me. He wants to kill me, he's going to burn me!" she sobbed, clutching fisting her hands in Logan's shirt as tears cascaded down her face.
A spurt of protectiveness slammed into Damon and he perched on the edge of her bed, "Who is?"
"Pure evil…" violet eyes, vivid with fear, flickered between them, and her voice barely above a whisper, shook. "Complete and absolute evil. He has…he has yellow eyes. Eyes of profound evil! He killed Mary and, and Jess, and-and, and-" she hiccupped, her absolute fear generating tremors in her voice, "-he's coming to kill me. He told me, he said there's no escaping him. He's coming for me," she enunciated each and every word in despair.
Unbidden, a memory reverberated vividly in the recess of Damon's mind, an incident he brushed off as the inane ramblings of a desperate witch. He recalled mocking Bree, claiming he only cared about releasing Katherine from the tomb and that as a vampire, powerful, nigh-immortal, it wasn't his problem, and then, he remembered laughing at her offer of help.
"A darkness looms in the horizon. For months now, The Spirits have been wailing, warning their descendants of this-, this pure evil! The air is contaminated, darkness pollutes it and Nature is crying, screaming for help … It all leads to one specific location, Damon. A mystical hotspot, one that holds an abundance of dark secrets … And it is fast-approaching, it's destination Mystic Falls. Bad omens shall strike that town, if it hasn't begun already. This, I swear
"A darkness approaching Mystic Falls? You're that desperate I spare your life that you're spouting talltales to me? A vampire."
"Not just Mystic Falls, Damon. This darkness, this evil, while it has a specific destination, it does not pertain to a what, but a who. The location has been chosen because of a certain individual residing in Mystic Falls. And where this person goes, the darkness shall follow."
"And who may this unlucky person be?"
"I-I don't know. We don't know. The Spirits cry for the Pure, a gentle soul who stands no chance. Not without help. I can help you."
Raven brows snapped together, an intense horror in Damon's eyes as he stared at the hysterical girl crying her heart out in the crook of a concerned Logan's neck. Electric blue orbs and hazel orbs collided, their owners at a complete loss for words.
It couldn't be… Could it? Was the 'Pure' that Bree spoke of Snow?
Almost two fortnights elapsed since the death of Sheila Bennett and Mystic Falls remained in state of serenity. The town maintained its stagnancy except during the holidays; Christmas and New Year's as always, instigated chaos and absolute merriment. Furthermore, for the small supernatural community that inhabited the picturesque town, the days that morphed into weeks and approached a month were thankfully utterly tedious. There weren't any new threats or terrifying dreams or shady characters.
No, the Council and the handful vampires were glad with the tide of inertia that seemed to have shrouded their town.
However, on the first day of the fourth week, at first light, a moving truck drove past the 'Welcome to Mystic Falls' sign.
"All my life, I knew I was different. Now, I wish I just had a weak personality." – Snow Silverstone
"So, in order to open the tomb, we need to find the journal to get the grimoire to undo the spells. First things first – since you are Elena Gilbert, you're on journal duty." – Damon Salvatore
"What about our mystery vampire? Dimwit obviously wasn't working alone, so whoever's out there knows who we are." – Stefan Salvatore
"I don't want to not be human!" – Snow Silverstone
"Logan, Snow, don't just stand there. Come in, come in." – Carol Lockwood
"She hasn't been returning any of our calls. I'm wracking my brain, trying to remember if I did something to Snow. Why is she ignoring us?" – Elena Gilbert
"Stefan, I told Snow about Stanley. She didn't take it well. Obviously. She just, she wants a break from vampire business…and witch business. Basically, tell Elena and Bonnie it's nothing personal. She just wants some space." – Logan Fell
Alaric Saltzman: "My wife was a parapsychologist. She spent her life researching paranormal activity in this area. It was her work that led me here." Stefan Salvatore: "Where's your wife?" Alaric Saltzman: "Dead. A vampire killed her."
"It was so much fun! Me, Logan, Snow, batter-fight. I would have never thought Logan Fell was such a cool guy! I mean, he babysat us a few times, but I always thought Mom must've twisted his arm or something. But really, Logan's awesome! I hope he sticks around. …Hey, speaking of which, why weren't you guys there? Is there something going on between you two and Snow that I don't know about?" – Caroline Forbes
"I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here." – Dean Winchester
"Logan isn't the only loser I've dated." – Jenna Sommers
"Is it weird that every time Jenna badmouths Logan, I have this huge urge to defend him?" – Elena Gilbert
Stefan Salvatore: "You met Damon." Alaric Saltzman: "Who do you think killed my wife?"
"I saw him draining the life out of her. He must have heard me coming. He just…disappeared. So did her body. They never found her." – Alaric Saltzman
"This town is my home, Stefan. My friends and family are here. You're here. I don't want that tomb opened any more than you do." – Elena Gilbert
"We slipped him some blood when he started getting all poser slayer with that compass. I needed his family's journal. I couldn't let him die. Waste of my blood if you ask me. In the end, he did exactly what I didn't want him to do. And now he's busy playing house with that meek mortal. Girl lacks a backbone. Don't know how she's still alive, if you ask me." – Anna
"Give me the book, Stefan, or I'm snapping her neck. And you and I will have a vampire girlfriend." – Damon Salvatore
"It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death." – Dean Winchester
"Damon was right. This is, uh…this is my fault. I put my faith in my father, but Damon put his faith in me, and I destroyed that. This is my fault." – Stefan Salvatore
Dean Winchester: "Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…" Sam Winchester: "Flying?"
"I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum. It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful. The second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all." – Sam Winchester
"Evil looks to Mystic Falls." – The Spirits
"You know, all I can remember is hating you. There might have been a time when that was different, but your choices have erased anything good about you. But see, I also know you have just as much reason to hate me. This all began with me. Katherine got taken away from you because of me. And I'm sorry." – Stefan Salvatore
"I mean this sincerely. I hope Elena dies." – Damon Salvatore
"Well, well. Elena Gilbert. You really are Katherine's doppelgänger. You must have the Salvatore boys reeling. I'm Anna. Your brother may have mentioned me. I mean, we're like, practically dating." – Anna
"I don't know why… I look at Damon, and I don't see a monster who caused death, who killed Vicki and Lexi. And maybe that's a betrayal to all their memories. Maybe it's the… the empath in me. But I sense there's more to Damon than he portrays to the world. That he's been wearing a mask for so long, he doesn't know how to take it off and act himself." – Snow Silverstone
Caroline Forbes: "Snow! It's Duke! Duke's party. Come on, you cannot not go. It's Duke!" Snow Silverstone: "Caroline, you repeating his name won't change my mind. I'm not in a partying mood."
"You have some nerve knocking on a Bennett witch's door and asking her for anything. Spirits talk, Mr. Salvatore, and so does my granddaughter. You are no friend to us. Now get off my porch." – Sheila Bennett
"I'm pretty sure it's like 1864 all over again. You say you don't care about Elena, fine. Then how about we sweeten the pot. Would you still not care if I nab the Silverstone girl?" – Anna
"I didn't compel you in Atlanta because we were having fun. I wanted it to be real. I'm trusting you. Don't make me regret it." – Damon Salvatore
"Some seals keep vampires from entering. This one keeps them from coming out." – Sheila Bennett
"He's sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don't think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you? …I am your brother. See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everybody's gonna leave me. You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin', just poof. Left me with your sorry ass." – Shapeshifter Dean (to Sam Winchester)
"Grams! Grams, wake up! Grams! Grams! Help! Wake up! She's not breathing! She's just not breathing! Please, wake up!" – Bonnie Bennett
"It's too late. Evil approaches. Evil is on its way. The Pure is in grave danger." – The Spirits
"Cops are blamin' this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder." – Sam Winchester
"You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in." – Sam Winchester
"Stick to the Winchesters. Leave that town to me." – Azazel (to Meg)
Dean Winchester: "Look, Sammy, what can I say, man, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story." Sam Winchester: "Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options." Dean Winchester: "What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it." Sam Winchester: "Watch me."
"She's been catatonic for days. That dream, I'm sorry, nightmare, it's really affected her. I don't know what to do, girls. I need you to get her out of this funk." – Logan Fell (to Caroline, Bonnie and Elena)
"Hey, Dad. It's Sam. Uh… you probably won't even get this, but, uh…it's Dean. He's sick, and uh… the doctors say there's nothing they can do. Um…but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, 'cause I'm uh…gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Alright… just wanted you to know." – Sam Winchester
Damon Salvatore: "Any news on the Stanley front, or is he still AWOL?" Logan Fell: "Cupcake, he's been AWOL for eight years."
"The tomb's open and Sheila Bennett's dead. Her granddaughter is still a novice and even if she isn't, she ditched town." – John Gilbert
"Now that's what I call a Christmas tree. Isn't that gorgeous? The holidays are all about being with loved ones, and I think that's what makes this tradition so special in our town. It's a reminder that no matter where you turn, you have a friend." – Elizabeth Forbes
"I get the feeling that Logan's hiding something. Just can't put my finger on it. But he's been whispering with those Salvatores for a while now. Gotta say, Carol, I find it very fishy." – Richard Lockwood
Caroline Forbes: "Biggest mistake of junior year… Including the boys in secret santa. Stefan is officially the worst gift giver." Elena Gilbert: "He got you a snow globe?" Caroline Forbes: "Yeah, of Mystic Falls, as if I don't see enough of this town every day as it is."
"So, apparently this guy, Dean Winchester, he's some serial killer and is dead. But that's the guy from my nightmare. I know it is! Why would I see in my sleep, the transformation of a four-year-old to a serial killer?" – Snow Silverstone
"What I wanna know is why we're spending a perfectly nice Christmas Eve discussing serial killers." – Elena Gilbert
Sam Winchester: "But if you know evil's out there, how can you not believe good's out there, too?" Dean Winchester: "Because I've seen what evil does to good people."
"It is not Dean Winchester's time to die, Reaper. He has yet to serve his purpose. Let the Reverend heal the righteous man." – Michael
"You told her. You told her the secret! Our big family rule number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?" – Sam Winchester (about Cassie to Dean)
"Did you hear? Someone's moved into town." – Caroline Forbes
A/N: Sorry for the Cliffhanger!
Did this chapter meet your expectations? At long last, Supernatural Universe kicks off! I'm so excited! XD
(1) I know there's a lot of quotes but there's a huge time difference. Around a month passes between this chapter and the next, so I had to squeeze important parts in. Hope you enjoy them!
(2) So… is Azazel really after Snow, or is it just a dream? Finally all the hints I've been scattering around with Bree, Emily, Sheila and the quotes I inserted in the end of every chapter reached full circle. What do you think? Is it just a coincidence?
(3) This was, again, another Snow/Logan-centric chapter. Truthfully, like I've mentioned before, Logan is an extremely important character in this story, and since he's the OC's godfather, he's gonna show up a lot. Plus, I'm trying to NOT do a copy-paste of canon, not only is it very boring to write everything the same, but I believe the point of writing fanfiction is to deviate from canon (plus, as you can see, I skipped two episodes – I didn't see the point of writing about Elena and Stefan betraying Damon, and the opening of the tomb 'cause that'd just be copy-paste of canon), and I've got a lot of ideas. Especially since I root for underdogs, and I hate the fact that TVD killed off nearly every single character outside of the MF Gang, I mean, really? Whenever a new character got introduced, I made a bet with myself on their expiry date. LOL!
(4) What's going on with Snow? Is she an empath? Is she a seer? Did she have a premonition? Why doesn't her blood have a scent? Why are witches calling her 'Pure'… I'd love to read your ideas, but unfortunately, the complete reveal won't be happening anytime soon. I've already got the moment planned for everything about Snow and her nature to come to light. So be patient and enjoy the ride my lovely readers.
(5) Did you enjoy the Logan/Damon interaction? Again, I planned on it being very short, but then those two awesome vampires had me get carried away. Also, did you like how I incorporated TO? I'm slowly introducing the French Quarter Coven. Honestly, I don't know 100% where I'm going with the coven, but I'm fascinated with portraying how they were before the entire Harvest debacle happened. Will Logan play a role in the events? Will he quick Marcel's ass (P.S., I'm not a fan of Marcel, AT ALL!)… Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself, just spitballing here. LOL!
(6) SPN Universe: Phantom Traveler, Skin, Faith and Route 666.
A/N: I am dedicating this chapter to Alisha and Jess; reading your reviews really inundated me with a surge of inspiration and had me grinning like an idiot XD, I just had to post this chapter up, pronto. In regards to this story, I've really been aiming to do the unexpected, which is why there are a lot of plot-twists up till now (and many, many many more to come!), so I'm absolutely psyched I managed to surprise you and have the opposite of your expectations occur. Also, the ending of this chapter is meant to pave the way to SPN Universe, so expect our favorite brothers to show up really soon! ;) Anyways, I hope this chapter is to your liking! Enjoy! XD
R&R.
