Not such misunderstood vampires

"Was any of what you told me real?" Clarke asked, only a few seconds after she had called these vampires monsters, scowling at the vampires, waiting for more gruesome confessions, "Do you actually only feed on horrible people? Or was that a lie?"

"No, no, that part is true," Maria assured Clarke, circling around Clarke, smirking down at the young blonde, forced to remain in the seat she was on, "We never lied about that. We just were taking our payback for Hugo Lavigne trying to keep us from having you. And we understood that Andre didn't do anything, and we know he didn't deserve what we did to him. But he was a means of breaking Hugo. Of making sure he never went against us ever again."

"Killing a kid to make the parent suffer?" Clarke asked, her face twisting in repulsion, "That's unforgivable."

"Is it?" Sylvie asked, "And is keeping you from the people that would have loved you endlessly forgivable?"

Clarke shook her head. "And what about my father?" She asked, "Did you really not know what my mom was going to do to him?"

"No, Clarke," Natasha said, "I promise you, we didn't, love. We never would have allowed that, because of how much he meant to you. And as you saw in the letters? He trusted us to take care of you. We never would have allowed him to die, based solely on that alone."

"I only have your words to go by that," Clarke said, "And I don't know just how trustworthy those words are."

Maria chuckled. "Well," she said, "I suppose I can't blame you. But you did see the letters, didn't you?" She then looked at the bowl of stew that Clarke hadn't been able to touch for a while. She then looked at the others as she said, "We should free up her arms. Let her eat."

Wanda said looking at Clarke with what Clarke had to assume, with an unsettled certainty, was desire, "We could always feed her ourselves."

Clarke tensed up, not liking that idea at all. She shook her head.

"No?" Natasha asked smirking, "Fine."

Clarke felt the invisible force that had wrapped around her, loosen somewhat, causing her to gasp, her arms freed and she could move them now.

Clarke raised her hands up in front of her face, moving her fingers, seeing that they were moving of their own volition.

She almost smiled and tried to get up from the chair, but still couldn't move. She looked down startled and tried to move again. but her lower torso was still kept on the seat.

So, it looked like the vampires were allowing her hands and arms to move. But nothing below that.

Clarke turned back to the vampires, glaring at them again.

Maria just smiled at her and pushed the bowl and the spoon closer to Clarke.

Clarke turned her glare on Maria, before picking up the spoon and beginning to scoop out some stew and eat it.

After a few spoonfuls of the stew, Clarke could feel the vampires' eyes on her completely. She glanced up at them, watching them watch her, seeing their very interested fixation on her.

Clarke suddenly got the impression that these vampires liked watching her eat. Excellent, one more creepy thing to add to the sizable "creepy facts list" that she was beginning to compile about them mentally.

Finally, after scooping up a few more spoonfuls of stew, Clarke said, glaring again at them, "Are you just going to stand there and watch me all day?"

"If you let us, then yes," Carol said, smiling, amused.

Clarke tried not to snort. So, they'd watch her the whole time unless she said otherwise? Weird. And definitely creepy.

"Okay, fine," she said, go and do something else. Don't watch me. It makes me feel uncomfortable."

To Clarke's surprise, as soon as she said that, the vampires looked away from her, startling her, and they began moving away from the table where she was eating.

"We're sorry," Wanda said, glancing at Clarke only one time again, before looking away, "We're just used to watching you. We didn't think about your reaction to us watching, and being aware of our watching you. We'll go do something else."

Clarke felt like saying that them having watched her for her entire life, didn't make things any less creepy.

But she stopped herself. She was in their control completely. And they could kill her or turn her at any moment. And they were now trying, it appeared, to make her less uncomfortable. Maybe it was better if she didn't try to poke at the subject.

So, all she said was, "Whatever, fine. Just let me eat without you staring."

And she began to eat again, trying to keep her eyes averted from the vampires. She occasionally felt them look at her again, before she stopped feeling their gaze again.

When Clarke finished up her stew and drank all of the water from the glass, she put the glass down and looked at where the vampires were, noticing that some of them had taken books off of the shelves and had started to read, and that some of them were peering out the windows, looking at something or other out there.

She noticed that a few of them were quietly talking together. She tried not to feel suspicious of that.

Then again, going off of what she knew about these vampires, she couldn't think of anything that wasn't suspicious.

Looking up from her reading, Brunnhilde saw that Clarke was finished with everything and smiled. "Oh, you're done," she said, getting up from her chair and placing the book down onto the chair, going over to the table and picking up the bowl and the spoon, bringing both of them to the sink and placing them in. She went back to the table and grabbed the glass and put that into the sink, as well.

She then turned back to Clarke as she said, not quite smiling but not quite smirking either, "What would you like to do now?"

"Well, for starters," Clarke said, annoyed, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice, even if she told herself it was best not to piss these women off, "I'd like to be able to get up from this chair."

Brunnhilde chuckled and Clarke heard other snickers in the room, but didn't bother turning to glare at the other vampires.

Brunnhilde looked over at the other vampires and offered them a questioning look. After a few seconds, whatever was conveyed between the vampires, apparently, was successfully conveyed and Brunnhilde nodded.

After a few seconds, Clarke gasped, feeling that same hold that had been over her this whole time, suddenly release her.

She moved a bit, standing up from the chair, eyes wide when she realized she could move completely.

Now standing on both feet, Clarke glared at the vampires again.

"So angry," Sylvie remarked, "We're not going to keep you from doing anything in the house, just as long as you don't try to escape."

"Right," Clarke sneered, "Just as long as I don't have free will enough to leave. Got it. Can I at least go to the bathroom?"

"Of course," Shayera said, "We wouldn't keep you from doing that."

Clarke didn't even bother answering and went off to the bathroom, all but slamming the door closed.

Clarke went to the bathroom, finished up and flushed and washed her hands, switching the faucet off and grabbing the edges of the sink, glaring at her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

What the hell did she do now? These vampires clearly weren't going to let her go. For all she knew, maybe they'd keep her here till they turned her, or till she slept with them. Or both.

And until then? The best she could do, was try to keep other people from becoming collateral damage.

She was now extremely relieved that she had told everyone else; Bruce, Sam, Steve, Sharon, Jeri, Pam, Jessica and Kith, to stay out of this.

She didn't want to think about what might happen if they decided to come snooping around here.

If these vampires were willing to murder a fifteen-year-old child, to make the child's father pay? Then who knew what else they were capable of?

She also realized, with a drop in her stomach, that if that was the case, then she'd better not try to escape.

If she did, there just might be a possibility that they'd hurt the people she'd love to make her suffer.

They were being all sweet and attentive now. But would what happened if she tried to escape?

That was how abusers were, after all. They showed you what they wanted you to see. And the moment you went against them, that was when the pain started.

There were just different types of pain.

And the killing of one's loved ones, was a very specific and terrifying type of pain.

Clarke stared down at the sink in defeat. She'd have to cooperate. She'd have to do what these people said.

For the sake of the people she loved, she'd have to.

Alright, she'd do what these people would want. Maybe not even refuse them when they decided to turn her.

But as soon as she was a vampire, as soon as she had the chance, she'd have to turn on them.

She remembered what the vampires kept saying. That after she was turned, she'd feel the connection with them as they did with her.

She had no idea what that meant. But she couldn't allow that to happen. Even if she felt the connection, she knew that she was beginning to hate them. Or get angry enough at them that it could substitute as hate.

She just hoped those negative feelings remained by the time she was turned into a vampire, so that she didn't instantly walk into those vampires' arms as soon as she was a vampire.

She finally tore herself away from the sink and exited out of the bathroom, glancing at the vampires in the next room, finding them still preoccupied with other things, trying to do as she said, which was to give her space.

She couldn't feel any gratitude for their accommodation.

She said, as she passed a few of them, "I find it hard to believe that my father was okay with you stalking me."

"Oh, but he was," Shayera said, leaning against the wall, smirking, her arms crossed over her chest, "Your father knew about us, even spoke with us a few times. He knew we would never so anything to hurt you. And that we wanted to protect you. And that we were meant for you and you for us."

Clarke glared at Shayera, who just lifted her eyebrows at Clarke's defiance.

"Jake Griffin wasn't the only one in your family, who trusted us entirely," Carol pointed out, waiting for Clarke to ask who else.

And admittedly, Clarke's curiosity was sparked. She turned her head to Carol and asked the question. "Who else?" She asked, "Pierre Dumont?"

"Oh, no, not him," Carol said, shaking her head, "Pierre was grateful for our help and was more than happy to experience the benefits of doing what we said. But he feared us. Almost as much as his brother, Maurice Dumont did. He didn't feel enough fear, not to agree to our terms, but he feared us enough that aside from that, he wished not to have that much contact with us. No, not Pierre. Pierre and his wife, Camille's grandson. Henri Boucher."

Clarke's eyes widened. She, for a moment, tried to remember how Henri Boucher was related to her. What generation he was. Then she remembered. Henri was Aimee Boucher's father. Before Aimee married Jean Lavigne and immigrated to America.

"What about him?" She asked cautiously, unsure of this subject.

Carol smiled at the other vampires and Yelena snickered and filled Clarke in, "Pierre Dumont cooperated with us. But he was scared of us. Marie Dumont, eventually Marie Boucher, knew of us, but barely had any contact with us. For her, her descendant was far off from her and she didn't need to worry about that. For her, all that mattered was her happy, blissful married life and her hubby, Phillipe Boucher and their son, Henri. But Henri?" Yelena's voice changed somewhat when she said the name, "Henri." Now, Yelena sounded almost fond, as the vampire smiled, "He was different. Is different."

Clarke frowned slightly at that wording. "Is different?" That sounded like it was talking about Henri in the present tense.

If that was the case, was Henri a vampire now?

Clarke felt herself ask the question, "Did you turn Henri into a vampire?"

Several of the vampires chuckled. "We did," Shayera said, "And he wanted us to. He tried to get his wife, Dominique, to join him. To let us turn her, like we were planning on turning him. But she refused. She suffered from the same illness that many back then suffered from. Devout Christianity. She believed as soon as we turn her, her soul would belong to the devil. Her and Henri's daughter, Aimee, wasn't as foolish, but she chose to remain human. Henri had hoped that after he was turned, after Aimee and her husband, Jean, had their children, that Aimee and Jean would allow themselves to be turned. And after Pepper was taken and Hugo had his children, that Hugo and his wife would consent to being vampires. And so on and so forth."

Shayera snickered, "Henri had hoped that eventually, after you were born, all of his family would be turned and you'd all be one big, happy vampire family. Henri always was too much of an optimist, for his own good. Thankfully, he and his wife, Dominique, were not soulmates."

That part, honestly startled Clarke.

"Wait, really?" She asked, "They weren't mates?"

"No, they weren't," Shayera said, "Yes, they loved each other. And after Henri was turned, he still felt a great deal of affection for Dominique, but they weren't mates. Henri met his mate two centuries later. A male vampire. Named Robert Drake, who preferred being called 'Bobby.'"

Clarke's eyes widened. Oh, that was unexpected.

Henri was bisexual?

Or perhaps he was gay, and he simply had followed the expectations of his time period and had married a woman and had a child, as instructed during that time period.

Seeing Clarke's consideration of this information, Natasha decided to explain. "In case you're wondering? Henri is bisexual. He was sexually attracted to his wife, Dominique. And after she died, he had some sexual relations with other women. it took him a century for him to finally acknowledge that he was sexually attracted to men, too. The pressures of his time were severe, as I'm sure you can imagine. When he began having trysts with both sexes, he was much less uptight, when he finally met his mate, Bobby."

Clarke nodded. She figured that that made sense. It might take a couple of centuries and accepting you weren't human any longer, but eventually, even someone who was born and raised in an extremely narrow-minded culture, would have to pull the stick out of their rear.

"Henri is now a part of your coven?" Clarke stated.

"Yes," Melina said, "He's with our coven now."

Clarke nodded. She tried to remember which generation Henri was. If Isabelle was her paternal great-grandmother, and Isabelle's father, was Hugo, which made him Clarke's paternal great-great-grandfather, and Hugo's parents were Aimee and Jean Lavigne and Aimee was Henri's daughter, then Henri Boucher, was Clarke's great-great-great-great-grandfather.

Four times great.

Clarke figured the vampires thought she would be happy finding out this revelation.

But there was too much of a distance between her and Henri Boucher. Her and Henri had too many degrees of separation for him to be anything to her, or for her to be anything to him.

"You probably are hoping I'm happy to hear that news," Clarke said, "But there's too much distance between Henri's generation and mine."

Several of the vampires contemplated that.

"I suppose so," Shayera admitted, "But there are several different vampires in our coven, that we imagine you'd get along with well."

"That's nice," Clarke snorted, "I'm sure that'll make up for everything, right?"

"You're going to be this angry for a while, aren't you?" Sylvie sighed, "There's no need to be. We can offer you anything. Anything you could possibly want. We just can't let you leave, is all."

"Oh, yeah, well," Clarke snorted, "I'm sorry, but forgive me for not being grateful."

Clarke suddenly felt the vibration of her cell phone in her pocket. She pulled the phone out of her pocket, switched it on and her grip on the phone tightened, when she saw who was calling her.

It was the number from Jessica Jones's office.

Clarke hesitated a few seconds, before pressing the "answer" button and bring the phone to her ear.

Jessica was on the other end. She said, "Clarke, you said that I was finished, and you're paying…a lot to be rid of me. Clarke, what the hell is going on."

Clarke tensed. "Nothing," she answered, even if she knew that private eyes like Jessica probably wouldn't be fooled by such a statement, "It's over, that's all. Thank you for your help, but I don't need your services anymore. Thank you." She had to keep Jessica safe from this.

If that meant coming up with the biggest bullshit story in the world, to keep Jessica from this, then you know what? She'd do it.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then Jessica stated, "Kid, what happened? Is someone threatening you?"

Clarke stiffened, her eyes darting to the group of vampires.

They glanced at her, but didn't look threatening in any way, which she hoped meant that they'd leave Jessica alone, so long as Jessica didn't get any more involved.

"No, Jones," Clarke said, and she supposed to an extent, that wasn't a lie, as the vampires weren't directly threatening her, "No one's threatening me. I'm fine. I just made a choice. Besides, my biological mother just committed mass murder. She poisoned a bunch of people. Which means that she'll be locked away for most likely the rest of her life. So, there's no reason why I would need more information about my mother's suspicious doings. We can just drop it now. And I'll send you the money soon."

Again, Clarke could almost feel the skepticism coming from Jessica.

"Kid, I have to say, I'm finding this hard to believe." Jessica said at last.

"I couldn't care less if you believe it or not," Clarke said, "You got a lot of the job done. You'll get the money. That's really all you need to care about. So, the point is, I don't need your help anymore. Thank you, but bye."

She hung up before Jessica could say anything else, and put her phone away.

She looked at the vampires as she said, voice hard, "Stay away from Jessica. I'm trying to keep her out of this. Stay away from her."

"We won't touch her," Wanda said, "As long as she doesn't get in the way."

Clarke tried not to sigh in aggravation. Because of course, that was the deal breaker. Anyone getting in the way, getting between her and them, was a huge deal breaker.

Clarke just hoped that Jessica stayed away. She hadn't told Jessica about the house, or where the house was.

Still, Jessica was a private eye. And it likely would only take her a few interrogations with Bruce or one of the others to find out where Lavigne Manor was. And Clarke had no idea how long Jessica Jones had lived in Manchester, but she doubted that Jessica hadn't heard of the "creepy, possibly haunted house in the forest." The fact that the Lavigne Manor was built by apparently, criminals, didn't make it any less likely that Jessica Jones hadn't heard of the Lavigne Manor.

Which meant that Jessica could easily find out where exactly the Lavigne Manor was in Manchester.

And Clarke had heard the "I'm not buying this bullshit" tone in Jessica's voice. Jessica didn't believe a word Clarke said.

Still Clarke hoped Jessica would leave this all alone.

Clarke looked out the window. It was now dark outside.

She pulled out her phone and checked the time on it.

It was night out, but it wasn't bedtime yet. Almost 10.

Clarke put her phone away and looked at the other, unsure what to do now. She had options of things she could do for fun.

Watch something on the TV. Read books. Surf the web on her phone. Listen to music.

And now, get more drunk. Okay, she technically hadn't been drunk after the first few glasses of booze that was poured for her by Maria, but you know, she could always gulp down more booze.

Deciding to combine two of those activities, Clarke sneered, still glaring at the vampires who had destroyed many lives, "I don't suppose I can get more alcohol, huh?"

"Of course you can, love," Natasha said, nodding past Clarke, and Clarke turned, to see Maria going to a cabinet and opening it up. Clarke was startled for a moment, seeing where the vampires had stuck the booze.

Maria reached into the cabinet and pulled out the Limoncello by its long, thin neck.

"More of this, I presume?" Maria asked, holding the bottle up, her eyebrows up.

Clarke nodded. She didn't bother saying "thank you." Why bother, when they were going to destroy everything they touched?

Maria grabbed a glass from the upper cupboard and pulled it out and filled the glass with the liquid.

Maria then handed Clarke the glass of booze.

Clarke took the glass, happy that it was as full as it was, whirled around and without another word to the vampires, went upstairs to the room she slept in, went in, dropped down and put the glass down onto the table next to her, and grabbed her backpack, unzipped it and pulled out her headphones.

She jammed the end of the head phones into her iPod, put her headphones on and started to listen to the first son her iPod.

Downstairs, the vampires listened in on Clarke's movements. Even with the headphones on, they could all hear the music as loudly as if they were in the room and Clarke had put it at full volume on a boom box.

Vampire hearing, and all that.

They recognized this song. Even without having heard it over a dozen times while being outside of Clarke's room of Clarke's house, before Clarke's father was murdered and Clarke was disowned, they'd recognize the song, as they had heard it many times before in a previous century-not that long ago, just in the late 1900s.

"Sympathy for the Devil," by the Rolling Stones.

A few of the vampires couldn't help but chuckle.

It appeared to be as appropriate a song as any.

Felicia finally spoke after a long period of remaining silent, "So, what now? She clearly doesn't trust us. We should turn her. Now. She'll feel the connection with us."

"And then what?" Natasha asked, "How are we going to explain her disappearance? Stage it as a suicide? For all everyone knows? She had reason to live. Especially now that Abby is most likely going to be behind bars for the rest of her life."

"I agree," Sylvie said, nodding to Natasha, "We need to wait. Make her "dying," look like an accident. Much later on. An accident can happen to anyone. And then while she's unconscious and changing and people think she's died, we take her away. If we turn her now, there will be dozens of people getting involved, trying to figure out what happened. And we can't allow that, not if we don't want to hurt people Clarke loves."

Felicia scoffed.

Maria looked from one of her companions to the next. "Alright," she said, "Votes for turning her now."

Felicia, Helena, Yelena, Shayera, Melina and Wanda, all raised their right hands.

That made six.

"And votes for waiting until a better time?" Maria asked, already knowing the outcome.

Maria, Natasha, Mari, Sylvie, Dinah, Brunnhilde and Carol voted against turning Clarke now.

That made seven.

Felicia snorted, "This voting doesn't matter. Because we know what decision would be made, even if there was a vote in the majority of turning Clarke now." She turned to Natasha, Sylvie, Maria, Mari and Carol, "You'd make it impossible for us to turn her now."

The older vampires in the coven, Natasha, Sylvie, Mari, Carol, Brunnhilde, Maria, Shayera, Melina, Wanda and some others had sired the rest of the vampires in their coven.

Which meant that they could stop the younger vampires very easily from doing what they didn't want those younger vampires doing.

"For good reason," Sylvie said, voice heated.

Wanda sighed, "Would there be more chaos if we decided to sire her now? Yes. But the moment she feels the connection with us, she'll be willing to help us cover up what happen to her. She could call everyone else, tell them that she's leaving, even destroy the house and leave with us."

"Do you really believe she'll do that?" Maria asked, looking at Wanda skeptically.

Wanda met Maria's gaze and wanted to say, 'yes,' but she knew what Maria would think of that.

Many vampires in Wanda's coven thought Wanda to be too optimistic.

"Wanda," Maria said, her voice becoming more reasonable, "Are you trying so hard to turn her now, because of how much you want to be with her? Or because of how it will affect your boys?"

Wanda stiffened and Maria almost felt remorse for her words.

Bringing up Wanda's sons, Billy and Tommy, wasn't a good idea.

Billy and Tommy, Wanda's biological sons, born eleven years ago, twins, from another vampire, who was killed by an enemy vampire. The enemy vampire had long since been killed in a battle with Wanda's coven. But it didn't change that Billy and Tommy's biological father was dead. Had been dead for a long time. Since Billy and Tommy were two years old.

The male vampire that was Billy and Tommy's biological father, hadn't been in any capacity, Wanda's mate, that was Clarke, but he and Wanda had cared for each other very much. And his death had left a hole in Wanda's heart for a long time. Not to mention, she wanted stability for her children.

While Wanda had been able to give the kids that for years, as well as the rest of the coven giving the boys that, the fact remained that Clarke was born almost twenty-one years ago, Wanda and the rest of the coven had protected her for that long, and ten years after Clarke was born, Wanda had her two boys. Two years later, when Clarke was twelve, Wanda's partner at the time and the boys' father, was killed.

It had taken a toll on Wanda for a while.

Stressful, looking after her boys, who were both so young and helpless by vampire standards, losing her partner at the time, knowing where her mate was, knowing that her mate was young and vulnerable because she was a human, and knowing that she couldn't turn her mate yet, not when her and the other vampires' mate, was only twelve by that point, not to mention, knowing that it was disgusting to even think about siring a child and having her feel that connection with her adult mates, and so, knew she had to keep her distance-it had taken a toll on Wanda.

So, when Maria asked Wanda that question, if the other vampire was doing this because she only wanted to be with Clarke, or if it came from deeper issues, all of the vampires in the room knew it was no joke.

"Careful, Maria," Wanda warned. And that was all she needed to say.

Maria physically, was older than Wanda. She was turned when she had been forty. Wanda was turned when she'd been in her early thirties.

But Wanda was older.

At least, by vampire standards.

Wanda was a century older than Maria.

And while a year or two might not make a difference strength-wise when it came to vampire power, a century?

A century made quite a bit of difference.

What was more, Wanda's breed of vampire was a much more powerful breed than Maria's was.

A Draugr.

Essentially, it wasn't a good idea for any vampire weaker than Wanda, to try to do battle with her.

Maria looked away, knowing better than to say anything else.

Deciding to break the tension that had started to fill the room, Carol said, "Okay, it doesn't matter why Wanda wants to turn her now, okay? The point is, we're not doing it now. We're waiting. Just waiting. But if we're going to wait? Then we need to decide on what to do next. The police will want to question Clarke at some point."

And there was the problem.

Yes, ultimately, it probably would be a better idea to wait a few years, till this all blew over and Clarke got used to them, and then turn her, so less people would look for her.

But they probably couldn't afford to do that.

Because as they had told Clarke, they could temporarily erase everyone's memories.

But not permanently.

"Why don't we try it?" Sylvie said, "See if Clarke comes around to us, when she sees what we're willing to do besides sire her?"

Several of the vampires paused at Sylvie's suggestion.

That was a bit of a radical idea.

Natasha asked, looking at Sylvie, "What would you be suggesting? Westview again?"

Sylvie shrugged, looking to Wanda. "Why not?"

Wanda cocked her head, smirking.

"Westview," was what they had named a small part of land off the edge of the most western part of the United States, where they had conducted an…experiment. They had used their abilities to erase the memories of everyone there. Well, not erase, because that was impossible. But alter everyone's memories.

The reason why they knew personally that memories being altered, was never permanent, was exactly because of this experiment.

Eventually, they'd had to discard that experiment, because humans from the outside were beginning to ask questions about why they didn't see the residents from that particular town as much as before.

Wanda had been the mastermind behind that experiment.

If they were going to do it now, here in Manchester? They knew they couldn't do it widespread.

It would cause too much outside suspicion.

But enough that Clarke wasn't pestered for a long time.

Enough that Clarke might see what they were willing to do for her.

There was a silent agreement between the thirteen vampires.

And that was when they nodded to each other and started push their powers outwards.

Static filled the air and leaked out of the house, going out, through the forest and across town.

Soon, many people involved with the case regarding Abby Griffin, including Abby Griffin herself, wouldn't be able to remember, for a time, that Clarke Griffin was in any way tied to Abby Griffin.

They would make sure that the power didn't affect Clarke. She would keep all her memories intact.

It was time to bring Westview to Manchester.

Author's note

Well, things just got a lot more chaotic.