A/N: Why, hello! Yes, you are not dreaming. Another chapter in a couple of days. I kind of owed it to you. It's shorter, yes, but we are approaching the end of season 1, finally, and so I'll be incorporating a lot more into this story.

DISCLAIMER:

I do not own The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, or their original characters, plot, and general content. I am not making any profit out of this story, I write purely for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own the cover image. I do own my OCs and plot.

For faceclaims, check the previous chapter 7 (henceforth, it will only be added when there is a new character).

I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 9: Oh, Death

December 9th, 2009

"Girls, sleepover at Staci's house this weekend, after Duke's party?" Macy invited.

Staci did a double-take, shut her gym locker, and rounded to face her friends. "Did I miss something?"

"Yeah, your uncles will be way cooler with us crashing there drunk than any of our parents," Macy stated in a tone that underlined 'duh'.

"Count me in," Betty purred.

Lynn grinned "I'm in, too. But we gotta study. I have to study."

Betty fanned the air with a dismissive hand. "I'll be too busy nursing a hangover, but whatevs."

"Fine, my place, then," she mumbled with her arms crossed. "But no hurling on the carpets, Eli will murder you," she alerted with a pointed look towards Betty, who had a habit of mixing alcohol.

"Scout's honour!"

"You were never a scout, Betty," Macy rolled her eyes. "Let's do this! I'll take care of the movies for the next day."

"Oh, god," Staci, Lynn, and Betty groaned at the same time.

"Mace, I think it's fair we all pick one," Staci considered.

Betty let out a 'yup'. "Otherwise we'll be stuck with crappy, slash movies all night. I have enough horror in my life, thanks."

Macy scowled, but caved in.

"Are we doing our nails?" Lynn questioned.

"Nails, toes, hair, everything, the entire treatment!" Macy demanded.

"Great!" Staci piped in. "I'm on it."

Lynn raised her hand. "I'll bring snacks."

Coach Robyns sauntered into the girls' locker room and clapped her hands.

"All right, ladies, enough with the chit-chat," she roamed the room with what Staci would deem a wicked glint. "Let's get physical."

The girls snorted but complied by filing out onto the pool area. "Time for warm-up. In the pool!"

The smell of chlorine drifts by Staci's nostrils and delivers a comfortable easiness through her veins, relaxing her muscles, calming her thoughts, and tugging her heart towards the water as though pulled by an invisible string. She approached the side of the pool and dipped her toes to test the temperature. A second later, she dove into its blue liquid, all sounds drowning, and the silence unlocked her thoughts which expanded through the water.

After the dance Stefan had dropped by Staci's. He had informed her that there had been a vampire in town that had attacked Elena. They had taken care of him, but Stefan believed there were more. Staci had asked in a caustic, annoyed tone whether he was going to ask to handle it or if she could finally call the cavalry. Stefan had been careful not to specify when he had stated that the vampires were there because they were seeking something from his and Damon's past. (She couldn't have cared less.)

It was their business thus it was better no one intrude, so they wouldn't get hurt. Staci had agreed wholeheartedly, but had also reminded him that taking up such responsibility meant keeping the townspeople safe! It's his town, after all, and yet quite a few people had gone missing in the past two months. Stefan had parted his lips to reply before closing them and acknowledging her argument.

Once he had left, she had been beyond thrilled, she'd wanted to squeal like the teenager she was! The matter was of personal nature, which meant she was finally free. Nevertheless, the Council was still incompetent; although Damon was no longer the pressing issue, whatever reasons he'd had to stay in town, had lured other problematic vampires. Therefore, the Witchers had agreed to intervene. Only, it wasn't her responsibility, anymore.

Jude had hesitated to question why Stefan Salvatore had been on her porch, letting Staci glimpse a figment of insecurity and jealousy (if one could label it that), and she had gushed that he had nothing to worry about. She's feeling better than ever!

Staci swam up for air, and rubbed her face, basking in the sensation of the water's touch on her skin, cool and smooth.

Days had passed by and Jude had never spoken another word of Logan or of the vampire ordeal, which was, by all accounts, a positive sign. However, it had lingered on her mind, the thought of what Jude's ridiculing reaction indicated; he wasn't a believer in the supernatural, and she had an inkling that if confronted with the truth, he wouldn't be receptive to it...

(She did not intend to tell him, anyway.)

December 12th,2009

"Cheers!" The four of them toasted with their beer-filled, red cups. Staci downed her drink, gulping the cold, bitter liquid in one go. Her throat warmed and it spread through her limbs in a dizzying sensation.

A pair of arms snaked around her waist, and a strong smell of beer hit her from Jude's breath.

Staci smirked when he planted a strong, sloppy kiss on her cheek. "Hey, you," she cooed near his ear.

"Ew, get a room," Lynn faked a gag.

"Maybe we will," Staci retorted, her mouth moving before her brain could catch on. She thrust her cup into the brunette's hands and ambled away with Jude clinging to her. She weaved through the crowd aiming for the edge of the woods, but bumping into a shoulder or two along the way.

Staci whipped Jude against a tree and pressured her body into his, molding them so their combined heat would keep them warmish in contrast to the biting, frosty cold of December.

Their lips crashed together and danced to the beat of the music whilst other voices were engulfed in distant, white noise. A flare of something pleasant ripped across her, from head to toe, raising the little hairs on the back of her neck.-

A rush of power smacks her in the gut and Staci lurches back, gasping a deep breath.

"Staci! You okay?"

Jude hurried to steady her and she gripped his arms tight, panting. "Fine-, needed to breathe, is all."

That explosion of nature's energy… someone was practicing magic very close by, someone strong and performing a powerful spell…

"Stace-"

"Shh," she stopped him, snapping her head towards the pitch blackness that lurked between the trees. Staci squeezed her eyes shut, and reached out to the trail of invisible sparkles, focusing her mind on the link the magic was threading with hers, in order to cut it.

The sensation went out like a blown flame of a candle, and Jude's arms tensed below her hands. There, done. Staci heaved a relieved sigh and shook her head at his baffled expression, as a way of apologising.

"Maybe I should give you a ride home," he advised.

"No!" Staci mustered a close-lipped smile. "It's all good, now, I thought I heard something. Let's just get back to the others."

She could not have fled fast enough.

December 16th, 2009

Death.

The only certain thing in life.

(At least, for some.)

"Dear beloved, we gather here, today, not to mourn, but to celebrate that which was the life of Sheila Bennett, for she believed life was a thousand times more worthy of remembrance than death."

The sun pierced through a few white clouds that littered the blue sky, shedding its heat on the brownish-green grass of the cemetery. The slimmest branches of the naked trees swayed to the bleak, winter wind.

Death.

Staci sunk further into her thick, black coat, as though she could disappear in it. The day seemed to mock them all, beautiful, in the face of loss.

Sheila Bennett was dead.

Heart attack, they'd said. And yet, Staci couldn't purge herself of deep-seated guilt in her core. It is like a weed that has rooted itself to her intestines and grows enclosed to them, suffocating her in a stifling hug-

Elliott's arm encased her shoulder and brought her under his tall figure, to offer the protection and solace of his wing.

There are these feelings and memories that hurt, hurt so much, and are lurking beneath the surface of her heart, scratching at it to attempt freedom. And she fights hard, kicks them down to a compartment of her soul, that dark, little coffin where they claim their space in her life.

Death.

Staci was unable to shred the feeling that Sheila's death was connected to the surge of power she had felt the previous Saturday. It would explain a 'sudden' heart attack on a woman, a witch above all, who, although admittedly not young, exhaled pure resilience with every inflation of her lungs.

The woman behaved like she could run three marathons, for heaven's sake.

"I failed her," Staci whispered, holding back the tears. She gulped but her throat remained as dry as sand. Sheila had asked her to keep an eye on Bonnie, and Staci had all but shrugged it off. She had kept two watchful eyes on the girl, but it wasn't as though she would have started following Bonnie around every corner. Besides, Bonnie was friends with Elena, and Elena was Stefan's whatever she was… Deep down, she was aware of the semi-conscious decision to steer clear of Bonnie, as much as humanly possible. They were kin, sure. But Sheila had been there, so she didn't need Staci.

Only… she was no longer here. Perhaps, it wasn't too late to make some sort of amends.

The ceremony was at its end, and people were paying their respects to Bonnie and a man that Staci assumed was her father.

She straightened her posture and approached with light yet decisive steps. Staci cleared her throat. "Hi."

Bonnie and her father focused on her with sorrowful eyes and Staci strangled the urge of looking away.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Staci rested each hand on their arms, conveying her sentiments through their touching energies. She alternated her gaze between the two and finally spoke again, folding her fingers together. "Would it be terrible if I borrowed Bonnie for a minute?"

Bonnie's father bowed his head in permission and the other girl offered a ghost of a smile. Staci locked her arm with Bonnie's, and together they ambled off a few steps away from the remaining guests.

"Listen," Staci sighed, halting nearby a tree that was facing them, towering yet not menacing. Like a guardian of those who rested underneath its roots. "I know what it's like… losing somebody. Not going to lie, hurts like a bitch and it gets worse before it gets better. The pain will never go away."

Bonnie frowned. "Is that supposed to be helpful?" She inquired in a small voice, as if not wanting to be rude.

Staci offered a sheepish smile and carried on, softening her voice. "However, at some point, you will find yourself able to look back on the memories and smile… instead of crying. There will be a time when you'll feel happiness at the thought of her, as opposed to that crippling pain."

Bonnie's emerald eyes bore into her brown ones with something akin to receptiveness. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. Staci embraced her tight; with a long breath loosening her energy so it could reach Bonnie's and transmit her comfort.

"I know who you are, Bonnie, and who Sheila was."

Bonnie jerked away. "How? Why? Are you a witch, too?" Bonnie's mien shifted, growing serious, but eager.

Staci could tell her the truth. She could. However, chances were she'd spill to Elena. She understood why, they were best friends. Elena would eventually snitch to Stefan and possibly Damon. It was too much of a risk. A threat to her stability. That, she would not allow.

"No," she finally said. "But, I have the knowledge."

At Bonnie's questioning frown, Staci lied with the truth. "I have a friend who used to be a witch."

"Used to?" Bonnie prompted.

"A story for a later time," she promised. "The point is I can help guide your journey of discovering magic if you are interested."

"Can- can you help me bring her back?" Bonnie's tone bloomed with hope, and her features morphed with conviction.

Staci blanched. "No! I cannot, and neither can you, Bonnie-"

"Of course I can," desperation took hold of her in a merciless blow to her vulnerable soul. "I'm strong enough, or-, or I will be!"

Staci clasped Bonnie's hands in hers. "Bonnie, listen to me," a forewarning shadow clouded her words, contracting the air around them. "One is unable to resurrect people using White Magic, regardless of how strong you are, or how much experience you have, which, right now, isn't a lot. You see, death is a natural process. Altering it is against the purposes of nature."

"What about other types of magic? Grams told me about the spirits," Bonnie persisted, unrelenting.

Staci shut her eyes for a second to secure her resolve. "Sure, Bonnie, Spirit Magic will manage it, but you'd need at least another witch, and again experience. Don't be fooled, though, it would still have consequences as you are meddling with nature. And before you even ponder it, don't go dabbing in Dark Magic, or it will consume you before you can blink," Staci lowered her volume to a hush. "You cannot have a life back without delivering another in replacement. It's the price you pay. Otherwise, there can be unforeseen consequences. Look at vampires… they are cursed in exchange for eternal life because they are able to cheat nature."

Bonnie trembled in defeat. "Grams didn't deserve it, it was my fault."

"It doesn't matter, Bonnie. I may not have known Sheila well, but her being a witch is enough for me to believe she would not want you to do it. You must think of that before anything else, about what she would choose."

The older girl's eyes welled up and she averted them into the distance.

"I was Sheila's front neighbour. So, when you are ready, just knock. Now, it's time to mourn in peace."

Staci squeezed in next to Elliott on the sofa, basking in the feeling of safety that emanated through their grazing arms. She arranged the two white candles beside one another, then laced her fingers with her uncle's.

The two sat, quiet, breathing in a deep lungful of air.

Elliott was the first to speak. "For Sheila Bennett, a wise woman, may she find peace. For her granddaughter, Bonnie, may the light guide her, always."

"And for all the loved ones we've lost," Staci murmured. She lifted her right hand and tipped her fingers closer to the candles, tapping one, "Incendio," and then the other.

Tiny flames bloomed and wavered atop the candles, lighting Staci's and Elliott's prayers.

January 28th, 2010

Staci hid deeper into her sheets, blocking out the blinding beams of sunlight. Her body ached from the mental exhaustion she had endured the past two weeks.

Vicki's body had been unearthed off the side of a road, during a passing storm.

Staci's intestines churned, causing her to roll into a fetus position. The mere thought of Damon Salvatore having buried the girl in a ditch somewhere, as though she were trash, made her want to vomit.

Worse, of course, was the unbearable guilt corroding her from the inside. She had a lot of that piling up since moving to Mystic Falls.

She'd wasted all of her energy dodging and evading Matt and Jeremy out of sheer shame for her part in Vicki's death; the thought of so much as looking at them made her skin crawl.

It wasn't her fault. And for all she cared, Elena and her duo of Salvatores should be the only ones to bear the brunt of Vicki's demise. Except neither of them had been the one to stake her.

It mattered little that it had been to save Elena. Not to Staci, and most certainly would not to Matt and Jeremy. She hadn't even had the guts to attend the funeral or the memorial, which did nothing to wash away the lingering taste of bile in her mouth.

These thoughts were blasting through her brain every second of every day, causing her continuous headaches and nausea. She had avoided public places, namely, The Grill, and hung with her friends at her house, most of the time, or she'd dedicate herself to her work at the photography studio.

She had struggled to conceal her emotional state from Jude and the girls, at first, but she supposed she wasn't doing a terrible job, as they had chalked up her attitudes to nerves from her upcoming driver's exam.

Urgh, I don't even want to think of it.

Her uncles knew all too well what the issue was but, thankfully, had refrained from commenting on it, as it would hardly help. Only time could heal her, now. That, and Matt and Jeremy's forgiveness, but she wasn't relying on it.

Meanwhile, a blood bank had been robbed in a county nearby, and more people had disappeared. Harvelle had informed Staci that they'd had a witcher ready to go, but received intel that another hunter was following the trail heading towards Mystic Falls; one familiar with the town, the secret history, and its people.

Therefore, the Witchers had backed away and relinquished the responsibility to John Gilbert, Elena's uncle. As it seemed, he was a more conniving and competent hunter than the rest of the Council members. Harvelle had advised Staci not to trust him, however, and steer clear of his path, reiterating her confidence in John Gilbert's impending success with protecting Mystic Falls' innocents by ridding it of harmful vampires.

January 30th, 2010

Staci tossed a few more popcorns into her mouth, chewing loud. Her uncles had left to attend the Mystic Falls one-hundred and fifty-year anniversary start-off party, at the Founders' Hall.

She, despite never being one to refuse a party, had skipped this one. It did not tickle her fancy encountering anyone, two particular 'someones'.

Macy and Jude were both in attendance; Staci had requested him to have Macy as his date, given she was not going, and her friend was dying to be present but was too proud to show without a Founding Family member on her arm – and Jude had been free, anyway. Lynn had stayed home with her family and Betty had driven to Richmond with her new girlfriend, a local college student.

No matter, Staci yearned for some alone time, anyway. It was good for the soul, for her to recharge the drained energies.

Ding dong.

Alas, it wasn't meant to last. Staci sighed and kicked her blanket aside. Who on earth could it be? It was a Saturday night; didn't they have anything better to do?

She wrenched the door open and jolted back at the tall, well-built frame of Jeremy Gilbert on her doorstep – the second-last person she wanted to face.

Blimey, I've been pushed deep into the karma hole.

His jawline was strained and a defined crease slashed his forehead. The air surrounding him was so tense it felt like it could snap with a breath. His brown eyes scorched with anger, resentment, betrayal, and anguish.

"I know you killed Vicki."

A/N: Did you like it? I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far, it encourages and helps me make it better. Thank you to the new favourites and follows, and to all the readers.

Sorry about the minor cliffhanger! To be continued... very soon. Any idea of how Jeremy will respond to finding Staci's involvement?

Till next time,

Hallee.