Will Change
Pounding. The sound of footsteps and her own heart beating, pumping blood to her muscles as she pushed herself to the limit, each breath sawing in and out of her, the cold air burning her lungs as she fought to gain just that extra inch on her pursuer. Eventually, her body could no longer comply with her wishes, and Lucy gave up, bending at the waist as she tried to coax her racing pulse back to some semblance of normality.
"Okay, okay. You win. I'm done."
"I said you wouldn't be able to keep up with me, Luce," her best friend Mary-Anne smirked as she came up beside her, having not even broken a sweat on their five mile run across downtown New York. In the middle of summer.
Straightening, Lucy felt something in her spine realign as she gave her friend a withering look that could melt ice -especially if she was using magic. "As you're well aware, Mary-Anne, I don't like it when people tell me what to do; I love proving people wrong. It's my favourite past-time after turning cheating exes into toads and reorganizing all those 'Make Your Own Candle' sets everyone seems to get me for Christmas."
"I know," the woman beside her agreed, twisting her berry-red hair up off her neck, "its such a cliché. Just cause we're witches doesn't mean we're a candle's best friend. Although, I suppose it could be worse, and we could all get broomsticks. Man, if someone ever got me a broom, I'd shove it up their ass so hard, they'd think time had gone backwards."
Laughing, she pulled the earbud from her ear and checked the time on her phone. "I don't have to be at my next job for a few more hours. Wanna walk me back?"
"Sure," Mary-Anne smiled. "I can gloat over my victory the whole way."
The two decided to make a stop for coffee, deciding they'd earned a chilled caramel latte with extra whip and chocolate sprinkles after all the calories they'd just burned. Fidgeting with the pocket of he leggings, Lucy tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, "So, Marnie, you got anything in the works at the minute? You didn't say whether you or Orla took that Mikaelson gig or not." Orla was the last witch that made up their little friendship coven, bit she worked down in Seattle, so they only saw each other once a month or so. But her and Mary-Anne were close, almost like sisters, and she knew that once she had her heart set on something -like doing a five mile run when the temperatures were already over eighty- she was immovable as Mount Rushmore.
"I was thinking about it," she admitted as she began to fold her napkin into a little paper lotus, "because the money's good, as it always is with the Mikaelson's. But after what happened with you and Katherine Pierce, the way she made you go against your own blood -which was totally bitchy, BTW- I don't know if I should be tossing my ring into that kinda hoop, you know? Orla, though...it's practically a done deal."
Shit. That was not good. Damn it, why couldn't she have sensible friends?
Because, a small voice at the back of her head slithered to her, if they were sensible, they wouldn't want to hang out with you, would they?
Pushing her cup -and annoying, self-deprecating thoughts- away from her, Lucy planted her elbows on the table and implored Mary-Anne, "Girl, you gotta help me stop her. Look, I have this...friend, sort of, from Mystic Falls, and they were just involved with the Originals. People died, Marnie, innocent people cut down by Klaus Mikaelson just cause he could. And I did some digging of my own. Ever heard of the Martin Family?"
Mary-Anne shook her head, earrings bobbing along with the movement. "No, I haven't."
"Not surprising, given the fact that they're all dead, the father and his son and daughter. All magic practitioners, and strong ones at that. They died as a result of them two, so what's to stop them from killing whoever takes this job? Christ on a cracker, if Orla decides to go ahead with this..."
"It'll be her that we're burying, rather than a burnt Metallica t-shirt, I know." Orla was a chemist responsible for safety-testing products before they were put on the market. Essentially, she got to melt things with acid and blow stuff up...and get paid for it. She was a genius, and an incredibly talented witch to boot, but she did have a tendency to let her passion override her judgement, or her sense of self-preservation. She loved a challenge, and what Klaus Mikaelson was asking for was just that. Not just to them, but to his brother Elijah as well. "But what can we do from here? She's all the way in Seattle. Apart from kidnapping her and locking her in a vintage library for the rest of her life, there's not much we can do to stop her."
"True," Lucy conceded, tapping her nails on her dainty pale-blue saucer, "there's not much that makes that hermit come out of her shell. Except...oh, man, I really didn't want to do this yet," the Bennett witch groaned, hiding her head in her hands.
"Like what?" Mary-Anne pulled her hands away roughly, hating to be kept in suspense. "What are you thinking, Lulu?
"Do you think Orla would agree to a visit if she found out I needed help with a date?"
Pausing, the redhead surveyed her critically before nodding. "Sure, I can see that working. The only problem is, you'd need to actually have a guy who was interested in you."
Smiling around the rim of hee coffee, Lucy admitted timidly, "As it happens, I actually do have someone. He's the one that warned me about the Originals."
"Yes! I knew they were of the male persuasion, given your purposefully vague pronouns. So, what's he like?"
Lucy set her cup down, splashing hot liquid over the top, but she didn't even notice. "I'm not saying a word, Mary-Anne. Not a single damn word, and you can't make me."
"Oh, I could," she assured her, sitting back and smirking wickedly, "but I won't. Can you at least tell me when you met?"
"When I went to see Bonnie in Mystic Falls. I was doing some shopping and we ran into each other and we started talking, then I noticed he had on this ring with some serious magic emanating from it and he explained his role in the Mystic Falls Supernatural Show: vampire slayer."
Mary-Anne's eyes -a glittering ebony- glowed brightly with curiosity. "Is he prettier than Buffy? Or Blade? Those are the only two slayers I know."
"Better than both combined. But he comes with complications, and that's as much as I'm gonna tell you. He tried to ask me out to dinner -it was so cute, he could hardly get the words out- but I said I'd have coffee with him when Bonnie came back from spending time with her dad and her non-Bennett side of the family. Therefore, we won't even be lying to Orla when we drag her crazy butt down here to do some shopping."
"She could do with some new clothes," Mary-Anne mused as she smiled at a particularly pretty waitress. "She's always either melting hers, forgetting to wash them or using them to put out fires."
Lucy chuckled in agreement. "You'd think a witch would be a little more scared of fire, wouldn't ya?" she posed as she watched the world go by, all those people so oblivious to the fights and fangs and schemes and deaths that lay just under the surface, a lion waiting to pounce on them if they got too close, or the lion got too bold.
"The only thing Orla's scared of is grammar errors, unsaved lab results and the science curriculum of modern high schools," her friend continued on, oblivious to the dark thoughts that had overtaken her, as they often did. Being a witch was no holiday for the psyche.
She smiled, big and bland. "Amen to that."
"So, this guy...do you actually see it going anywhere? Beyond the whole 'Using him as an excuse to save our best friend from exsanguination via a British vamp'?"
"How'd you know he's British?" Lucy inquired, deflecting the words of the impenetrable shield that was her refusal to open herself up to more pain and heartache.
"His accent on the phone," Mary-Anne supplied, before saying, "though of course he could have been born anywhere and was just putting it on in the hopes he'd seem more charming and less predatory."
"Of course you noticed that, what with your obsession with Benedict Cumberbiscuit or whatever his name is," Lucy scoffed, glad the conversation had taken a path into more normal waters.
"It's Benedict Cumberbatch, Lulu, it's not that hard to remember," Mary-Anne rebuked her. "And, for the record, he is a total dreamboat. Orla agrees, too, although she watches Sherlock more for the science stuff."
"Well, I guess there's no accounting for taste."
"Right back at you, Lucy. This guy must be a new kind of wacko if he thought *you were adequate girlfriend material."
"Hey, don't be mean!" the Bennett groused at her before acknowledging, "It is kinda weird, isn't it? Guys never go for girls like me."
"Oi, stop with that kinda talk right this instance!" Mary-Anne insisted, her Southern drawl more prominent as she became agitated. "I was joking, joking in jest. Guys are idiots, alright? Any member of the opposite sex should feel blessed that you gave 'em the time of day, let alone agreed to a physical outing of mutual benefit: i.e, the drinking of coffee. I'm sure it will all work out just fine."
"You think so?"
"Oh, I know so," the redhead enforced with a nod. "And, if not, we both know plenty of hexes that will make him wish he'd never been born, or been born a grasshopper."
"Mary-Anne?"
"Yep?"
"You're a treasure, you know that?"
"Well, I always have liked pirates," she replied absently. "Now hand me that muffin if you aren't going to eat it, I don't even know why you ordered it since you hate blueberries."
"Maybe I just ordered it so I could laugh as I watched you steal it," Lucy suggested, holding the muffin out of her friends reach."
"Muffin. Now. Exchange the baked goods for my undying love and friendship."
That sounded like a pretty good deal to her.
"Yes, ma'am."
At half four on the tenth day after Elena had rescued him, Elijah Mikaelson felt his undead heart stop in his chest at the sound of the key pushing into the lock on the door of their most recently acquired motel room. As if in slow-motion, the flimsy piece of wood creaked open on overly-dramatic rusting hinges, cranking up his anxiety by another excruciating degree. He wasn't frightened by any assailant or adversary; he was terrified of how Elena was going to react when she saw the state of their room.
"I-I can explain," Elijah stammered at the sight of her face, utterly frozen in shock as if she'd just had an encounter with Medusa, arm still upraised from opening the door, and it was by no means an exaggerated reaction: the room was in chaos, as was the state of his attire.
In retrospect, getting turned to stone by a snake-headed goddess would probably be infinitely preferable to this.
He'd started out with the best intentions, of course. After noticing that Elena had spilt ketchup on her blouse at their last stop for food at a nearby diner, Elijah had endeavoured to try and remove it for her. As he'd turned on the tap in the room's tiny en-suite bathroom, he'd been met with a rattling death-groan emanating from the pipes before the water trickled out. It had started out slow, just a few drops at first, so he'd turned the tap a little more...
Then the pipe exploded. The water went everywhere, filling the cracked ceramic sink in seconds, the bathroom in minutes, and the room as a whole before Elijah could even think of stopping it. He was a vampire, and a pampered one at that: he had no idea how to deal with something like this. Negotiating peace between warring supernatural creatures? Easy. Evading his father for over a thousand years? As natural to him as breathing had once been. But this? This he could not handle.
Now, he was standing in the middle of their room, water up to his ankles, although his entire suit was drenched after he'd attempted to stop the deluge, a broken plant pot in his hand but with no plant actually occupying it -that was currently in the corner, spreading out a small cloud of mud as the water mixed with the roots. His hair was plastered to his face, and stray pieces of paper and mothballs from under the bed were floating around them -the first thing he'd done is place their luggage on their respective beds so that nothing was damaged.
Elijah was far out of his element, but luckily, Elena was more than up to the task.
Placing her bag of shopping on top of the dresser, she shrugged out of her denim jacket, rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt, fluffed her hair, and promised, "I'll be back in a minute."
Seventy two seconds later -yes, he did count them- she returned with a wrench, an armful of towels, what looked like some sort of tape, and a mop bucket.
"It's amazing how far a smile can get you these days," Elena commented as she closed the door with a hip before advising him, "You might want to stand back a bit, Elijah: this is gonna get really messy."
Wading through the water, the young woman didn't even blink when it cascaded over her shoes, striding confidently into the bathroom like a valiant night into battle, surveying the carnage with only the most medium of frowns.
"You didn't turn the tap off?" was the first thing she asked him.
Fiddling with his cuffs, Elijah confessed grimly, "I did, but I might have, um, broken it in my haste to stop the water."
She smiled kindly at him, "That's okay, the first thing to do is find where the leak is."
Crouching down, she slid across the linoleum, placing her feet against the wall under the sink, soaking her instantly. Feeling around, she finally declared with a triumphant laugh, "Ahh ha, there you are, you little sucker! Time to meet your match."
She attacked it with the wrench, explaining as she did, "The leak is near the U-bend, so I'm guessing the pressure must have built too much, which means there's a blockage somewhere, so I'll have to unscrew it. Do you mind handing me that mop bucket?"
"Of course," Elijah replied, passing her the bucket and watching in abject amazement as she placed it under the sink and unscrewed the pipe, and, just like she said, a load of gunk that looked like it belonged in the swamps of the bayou trickled out, slowly filling the red bucket.
"How did all this happen, anyway?" Elena inquired as she began to unfold one of the towels and place it over the offending tap head. "The sink seemed perfectly fine when I left an hour ago."
"While you were gone, I decided to get it into my head to clean your shirt for you. The one with the ketchup stain on. Even I know that if you don't treat a stain like that after a half hour, its almost impossible to get out," the Original rambled on without stopping, "and I noticed you liked wearing that one most and I," Elijah finally paused, admitting as if it were some great shame, "I just wanted to do something nice for you. Regardless, when I went to turn on the tap, all seemed normal. But then nothing was coming out and then too much was coming out and I panicked and tried removing some of it out the window with that ghastly plant pot and then *that broke and you returned and-"
"Woah, Elijah, calm down before you hurt yourself," Elena urged him, brushing his damp hair off his forehead with the tips of her fingers. "It's just a little water, okay? You're not some toddler I'm going to scold and send to the corner with no milk and cookies for the night. You were trying to do something really thoughtful, and while it didn't pan out quite like how you wanted, that doesn't mean I'm gonna freak out on you. Stuff like this happens; it's just part of life. If anything, it'll give us something to laugh about for the next week, and a good story to tell my friends."
"Would you mind terribly leaving out the fact that it was my fault when you recount this particular tale? I'd hate to appear incompetent." To a bunch of teenagers hung unsaid between them.
Elena pressed her lips together, likely to forbid a smile at his absurdity. "Can I keep in the bit about the plant pot?"
"If you must."
"Great. I think that's probably the last of the sludge from hell," she noted, and the bucket had indeed stopped filling. With a grimace, she opened the window, poked her head out, then proceeded to chuck the contents outside.
"I just wanted to make sure I didn't dump it over somebody's car. That would not be pretty. Okay, time to tackle the tap situation."
"How did you learn to fix such things?" Elijah asked her as she unscrewed the tap head, squealing when she got a face-full of cold water.
"My dad taught me most of it," she told him over the sounds of the wrench, "and I've always been curious by nature, taking things apart and putting them back together. Moreover, money hasn't exactly been aflowing at Casa Gilbert lately, and we didn't always have the luxury of calling a repairman, because most of the time Jer and I were at school or Jenna was off working or doing stuff for her thesis and the house would be empty. She always jokes that it...did joke that I must have played too much Mario Cart as a kid, since I didn't actually mind fixing stuff like a faulty sink. I just like being helpful, as you're more than aware by now. Besides, why pay somebody when you can learn to do it yourself?"
Elena paused after that particular rhetorical question, wiping her hands on her shirt before settling back into the rhythm of her work once again. "I decided from an early age that I never wanted to be one of those women who relies on guys for everything hard or laborious in life. I wanted to know how to change a tire, how to put a new lightbulb in or how to work a circuit breaker if there's a power cut and I'm all alone. I've always strived to be independent, to make my own choices, which is exactly why I asked Rose to take me to Slater, because if Klaus was going to come for me regardless, I would rather it be one my terms. It's also why I was so angry at Damon when he fed me his blood, or when he lied to me about Bonnie being dead, the fact that he decided what I could or couldn't handle, what I could or couldn't be. To be fair, Stefan can be like that, too, but not nearly as much. I guess that's just how they were raised; some things, some behaviours, you can't unlearn, despite a change in times."
Elijah took this all in, quietly contemplative, weighing his next words as if he were deliberating over his next move in a chess match, although in this situation he was much more emotionally invested. "Well, if it helps at all, I've always had a great respect for women," Elijah told her, though of course this was of no surprise. "My people held them in high esteem, and my sister certainly never suffered fools who thought otherwise. I've seen and met countless female warriors, women of great strength and cunning and intellect, who have charged into battles that most men would have balked at, and often did. There is an immense courage in defy expectations, of choosing your own path, and how to walk it. I watched as Rebekah struggled in eras that did not appreciate her, and am therefore glad that times and attitudes have progressed for your generation."
"Do you think she'd like me?" Elena said as began testing the tap, one eye on him and one on the water as she asked further, "If you were able to find her, and get the dagger out and away from Klaus?"
"I think that Rebekah Mikaelson is a unique creature," Elijah replied candidly, "and that living in a family with five brothers, she has often struggled more to find her place in the world, as much as a vampire can without courting exposure, of course, and that she would appreciate your bravery and your kindness. Like you, she had to adapt to a new supernatural life quickly and without much guidance, as we all did, considering there was no one to teach us control -we didn't even know how to turn others into beings such as we, and when we did it was by accident- but she still retained her lightness and her ability to love, the latter often getting her into trouble, particularly with Niklaus, who thought no being on earth was ever good enough for his baby sister."
"And what about you? Did you join in on the Big Brother Parade?"
To some extent, yes. But...there had been one. A boy who's loved Rebekah more than any of the others, and who's love for her only grew as he did, and paid the price for that love with his life, or so Elijah had thought, until recently, when he'd heard rumblings within the witch community over how Marcel Gerard was itching to enforce new laws in the Quarter, but didn't have the strength to carry out such rules.
So, since that was not his story to tell, he remarked diplomatically, "What else are elder brothers good for? Or elder sisters, for that matter?"
"Hey, I've never been like that with Jeremy!" Elena protested, amusingly offended.
Elijah just arched a brow.
The brunette's shoulders sagged with defeat. "Fine, maybe once. But she did try to bite him later, so I think I was kinda right to warn him."
"Isn't that what we all do?" the Original mused philosophically. "Just try and save those we love from being hurt by life's callous cruelties?" Like I wish I'd been able to do with you? Because I have fallen for you so completely that the thought of any harm coming to you fills me with a rage I cannot articulate, and your mere presence is enough for any thoughts of nobility and honor and boundaries to flee from my conscious and I don't know how long I can keep this up?
"You can say that again. Okay, stand back, I think I've got this working."
Of course, she was completely unaware that by following her instructions and taking up an uneasy perch on the bed, Elijah suddenly had a completely unobstructed view of her, of the way
the wet material of her shirt clinging to her like a second skin, exposing her delicate curves in a way that should be outlawed in all fifty states for being too damn tempting. As he sat there, all he could think about was pulling it off her, slowly, preferably with his teeth, as his hands roamed and his lips found hers and she moaned his name in pure bliss...
"I'm all done now, the water seems to be coming out like normal," Elena declared happily as she walked back into the room, wiping her hands clean on one of the towels, completely ignorant to the internal battle being waged in front of her: Elijah Mikaelson's Morals Vs Elijah Mikaelson's Desires. "Obviously, I'm no expert, but I think it should hold for now. At the very least until we get out of here and the manager finally wonders what I needed that wrench for."
"Quite."
Elijah felt like he was standing on the plates of the earth, constantly shifting, tilting him towards her while instinct and experience urged him to resist, to not get too close, that nothing good could come of him being in her life in the way he so desperately yearned for. Was it selfish, to want to be around the one person in over a thousand years, that he could truly be himself with, didn't have to hide any aspect of who he was or make excuses for his actions in the name of his family? Was it wrong to, once forged, maintain this thrumming connection between them, even though it would only likely end in tragedy for one of them?
All he knew, since the moment he'd said hello to her, was that her eyes looked like coming home, and that no matter what happened in a day or a week or a month, that would never change whenever he looked at her.
Searching in his suitcase for several seconds, Elijah walked towards her with one of his jackets clasped in his hands. Draping it around her shoulders, his fingers ghosted across her collarbone as he murmured by way of an explanation, "I didn't want you getting cold."
Hugging the black material around her, Elena beamed at him with unrestrained gratitude, placing her hand over his heart as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for always making sure I'm okay," she whispered, and her words almost broke his heart, because she never needed to thank him for showing human decency to her, not ever, and he couldn't fathom what those Salvatore idiots had put her through to make her feel otherwise.
"It's my pleasure, Elena." Those weren't the words he wanted to say to her, but for the moment they would have to do. Pulling himself away from her before he did something he'd regret -or would feel terrible about not regretting- Elijah picked up their bags and opened the door, chuckling softly as a cascade of water rolled out onto the dark pavement.
"Man, they've got good drainage here."
"It would appear so." Walking to the car, he placed their belongings in the back before opening the door and switching the heater on for her. Whilst the temperature was still moderately balmy, Elijah didn't want her to catch a cold. "I promise, the first place we come to, we'll book a room. I won't have a lady sitting in damp clothes."
"You're too sweet," Elena tsked under her breath as she hopped in, reaching across the console and opening his door for him. "And trust me, I've gotten wet way worse than this. There was this one time, back when all the tomb vampires had just been released, where they captured Stefan and it was pouring rain, and me and Damon and Ric went to rescue him, and I was so exhausted and worried about Stefan that I took a nap in my wet clothes and didn't even notice."
Elijah stilled, key halfway in the ignition. "You really should take better care of yourself," he chided her sternly, while internally he was marvelling at the fact that they'd met at all, that she hadn't died just from a lack of carelessness from those around her long before Klaus had sacrificed her...and how brace she was.
"Someone I loved was in danger," Elena shrugged helplessly. "Warm clothing wasn't really high up on my priority list."
"Well, you should know that I won't tolerate such behaviour. And that I will not ever let you get in such a state that you forget to look after yourself."
"And what about you? Do the same rules apply for you?"
Elijah frowned, finally starting the car. "I'm an Original, Elena," the vampire reminded her as they pulled out of the motel's parking area, "I don't need looking after."
"Maybe not physically," Elena admitted as she scooter closer to the heater, fanning her wet shirt against the grate, "but what about mentally? Emotionally? Doesn't that part of you deserve looking after?"
"Why, do you have a candidate in mind?"
"Maybe. But they don't accept normal payment for their services, and only accept waffles and, good coffee, and at least five hundred page-long fantasy books."
"Those sound like more than adequate terms to me."
He just wanted to hear her voice. That was it. That was all Stefan Salvatore wanted as he swept out of the hotel room and out into the night, blending into the background like so much shadow. That was what he was now: a thing in-between. No longer good, but not as bad as he could be. Not like him. Oh, how he hated him. Hating him from taking him away from his girlfriend, his brother, his friends, his home...but most of all, Stefan hated Klaus for being right. For knowing him better than he knew himself.
But still, he just needed to hear her voice.
Fingers flying over the familiar digits, Stefan waited with baited breath -though if course he didn't need to- as he pressed the phone to his ear.
Ring, ring, ring.
Nothing.
Ring, ring, ring.
Still nothing.
Stefan almost gave up hope, but then he heard it. Her.
"Hello, this is Elena Gilbert. I'm really sorry I can't answer your call right now, but if you leave a message I'll be sure to get back to you. Bye!"
It felt final, that goodbye. Stefan didn't know why, it was only her voicemail, but it felt like he words were just for him, that she was sorry about everything, everything that had happened, that she wanted to get back to him as much as he wanted to get back to her. But she couldn't, and neither could he. He'd made a promise to Klaus, and if he broke that promise, there was nothing stopping the hybrid from going back to Mystic Falls, from biting Damon and letting him die this time, from realizing that the doppelgänger he'd sacrificed was still alive.
Every day was harder than the last, though. Harder to hold on, harder to remember. He should be with her, helping Caroline plan the party she was no doubt throwing, helping her look after Jeremy and heal after losing Jenna and John. He should be there to hold her when she cried and sit beside her while she laughed, they should have had so much more time; he was a vampire, after all.
God, what he wouldn't give to change all this, to have even one minute with her. But it would be a minute that could get her killed, and his undead heart right along with her. Again.
Stefan had already watched her die once, and he refused to do it again.
Even if he had to let their love die in the process.
She was there, but no one could see her. Not her son, laughing as she had not heard him laugh in over a thousand years, nor his companion, the doppelgänger, and the source of his laughter as she tried to get a jumper over her head that was obviously too small for her.
No one could see feel, but she herself still felt, still thought. Watching. Waiting. Plotting. Now that Niklaus had broken his curse, it wouldn't be long before he learned of the girl's survival, and that just would not do. The balance of nature had already been altered enough when she turned her children into what they were a thousand years ago, yet again when Niklaus had endured his first transformation into a wolf. If there were more of him...she could not imagine what kind of consequences would befall them.
But it was hard. So, incredibly hard to look at Elijah with this girl, this girl who was the exact mirror of Tatia -his beloved companion, and who's death had almost destroyed him- and see such joy in his face. He hadn't asked for any of this, had been nothing but a noble son, a dutiful brother, but he was still a vampire, a scourge on this earth. An abomination. They all were, no matter how much she still loved them, that did not change their actions, the fact that monsters lurked within each and every one of them, ready to be unleashed at the slightest provocation. And she was the only one that could stop them.
So, Esther Mikaelson watched them all as if from behind glass, loved them with all her being, and vowed to exterminate her children the first chance she got.
Author's Note: Hi, everyone! Sorry for the short update, but I really wanted to get this chapter out. I hope it doesn't feel like too much of a filler. So...Elijah's totally in love with Elena, Lucy's getting involved with Ric -with some OC's tagging along, YAY!- and poor Stefan just missed his girl...who seems awfully occupied by somebody else. (Come on, in her shoes, who wouldn't be?)
Anyway, I just wanted to thank all of you out there reading this for your immense love and support these past fifteen chapters. I think we'll be getting to part two soon, which will be me working with episode plots and such.
Oh, by the way, I've got a new story I just wrote, that's Elejah -what a shocker...not- that's a crossover between TVD and TO, set when Elena gets injected with the Ripper Virus...and calls Elijah. Please, if you like this, go read it! There's even a sequel in the works!
Until next time!
All my love, Temperance Cain.
