Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and friends, along with the Vampire Diaries I - IV belong to L.J. Smith. Everything else belongs to me. No harm intended or money made from this fic.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Author's Note: Please review! Don't you know I'm only in on this for the fame and recognition? (I'm kidding! But responses _are_ deeply cherished and appreciated!)
~ Eighteen ~
Stefan stood with arms crossed, staring out the window. Behind him, the television was discordantly mundane against the anguish that ate at him from within.
Elena had been gone for more than two days. Stefan had spoken to Bonnie about a half hour ago on the telephone. Neither had had much to say – nor wanted to say much.
Two days... and that strange occurrence last night. Weak as he was, Stefan had sensed the ripple of Power that ran through the city like wildfire. It had been followed by an electric, ominous moment, as if existence paused on the brink of upheaval, and then the Power had drained away harmlessly.
Elena's disappearance could not have anything to do with that incident... could it? If so, how? She was neither witch not vampire, and who else would be manipulating Power like that? Unless she was the innocent, sacrificial victim. One hand balled into a tight fist.
::Stop tormenting yourself like this,:: the inner voice scolded, for once faintly sympathetic. Stefan ignored it and went on brooding.
A knock sounded on the door, jarring him out of his thoughts. Dread and hope and surprise warred over his features as Stefan crossed the room to answer the door. Who could it be? Elena would not knock; she had the key. Unless she had lost it...
Three vampires stood in the hallway. The first was the one from the café – the one who had known Damon. The second was as lean as the first, but longer and didn't seem to stay quite still, giving the odd impression of a jellyfish in water. And the third –
_Damon?_ Stefan blinked. The third vampire was very like his brother – the same straight glossy black hair, a cold, menacing aura, and classic good looks.
They didn't wait for an invitation, but walked right in, much to Stefan's amazement and annoyance. He was too well mannered to slam the door.
His three unexpected guests fanned out in the living room. "What can I do for you?" Stefan asked, forcing an even tone. ::Maybe they have news...::
::Too right!:: the mental voice cracked whip-like in his head, obviously in answer to his silent thought.
"This place is no longer the dwelling of a human, so we need no invitation to enter," the tall vampire snapped, answering his unspoken question. He was standing in the middle of the room, fists on his hips. His verbal voice sounded much like his mental one. They all stared at each other for a moment.
"Who are you?" Stefan burst out.
"Tristan D'Angelo," the speaker said. "These are Leon Morris and Aodhan Makoe," he went on, indicating first the one Stefan had encountered before, who had draped himself onto the couch, then the other, slighter vampire. _He_ was leaning with arms crossed against the wall beside the window. There was a sense of distance about him, as if he was not touched by the proceedings. Again, Stefan was reminded of Damon.
"Where's your pretty little human girlfriend, Stefan?" Leon asked idly. He didn't look at his unwilling host, but picked up the book Stefan had left faced-down on the coffee table and turned it around in his hands.
Stefan's hands clenched as he jumped to the first conclusion his mind lighted on. "What have you done with her? If you've hurt her–" ::This is bizarre,:: the clinical voice in his head told him. ::These vampires come into your home – and you'll note that there are three of them, obviously well-fed and Powerful – and you're threatening _them_?::
"Us? Hurt _her_? You're mad, man! What makes you think any of us could even _touch_ her?" the loud one – Tristan – shot back with scornful mirth.
"Where's your girlfriend, Stefan?" Leon asked again. "Did she walk out on you? Or did you dump her when you found out about her little secret?" The other vampire looked at him and there was nothing placid or dull about those brown eyes. "I'm surprised she didn't _hug_ you before she left."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Stefan stated, bewildered, angry, defensive.
"We're talking about your girlfriend, the Enemy, the one who will wipe out the vampire race," Tristan said explosively.
Forest green eyes hardened. "You're crazy. Elena can't–"
"But she did," Leon interrupted, his mild tone cutting cleanly through the emphatic exchange. "We all saw her. Even you must have felt the disturbance in the fabric of existence last night; that was _her_. Killing off an Original."
* * *
Salvatore stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Old Ones can't die," he said blankly. Leon mentally rolled his eyes before the Italian vampire shook his head. "You saw her?" he seemed to latch on to that fact. "Where is she?"
::Oh, boy, he's got it bad,:: Leon thought, torn between pity and contempt. ::Clueless, too.::
Scornful laughter from Tristan. "Somewhere _you_ certainly can't go, if you value your health."
"Where is she?" he repeated.
::Now, if I weren't 200-odd-years old and used to ignoring the voice of command,:: Leon began, amused. But he said neutrally, "She's in a closely guarded quarters of one of the most notorious vampire hunters in the Americas."
He half-expected sarcasm for his uninformative comment, but all he got was more obstinacy. "I must know. Give me an address, directions, anything. If you won't tell me, then show me," he insisted. When neither Tristan nor Leon replied, he turned to Makoe. "Please." Leon noticed that the younger Salvatore's manner changed when he looked at Makoe, relaxing and stiffening at the same time.
::Just how he reacts to his brother, no doubt. After all, you can count on family where outsiders would not help you, but with family there's a whole different set of problems,:: Makoe commented coolly.
::Oh, caught that too, did you?::
::Yes. Perhaps I'll cultivate that. For now anyway.::
::Or until he figures out how different you are from his brother,:: Leon agreed.
Leon watched Makoe meet the appeal in the deep green eyes impassively. Tristan was poised to protest. Makoe seemed to be studying Stefan, weighing him in his mind. Finally, he said to his two hunt-mates. "Seeing is believing."
The younger Salvatore – Leon was amused to realize that he thought of Stefan as young although he had in fact lived longer than the rest of them – relaxed as Tristan threw his hands in the air in exasperation. A cold look from Makoe – and possibly a mental blast – made the latter subside into sullen silence.
Leon played along, glancing between his two teammates. "It will be dangerous," he said, seriously.
Looking paler than even a vampire should, Stefan drew himself up. "It doesn't matter."
Leon nodded. "Let's go then." Tristan sulked all the way to the Baron mansion. Makoe seemed relaxed, cruising easily with none of his usual traffic antics. Leon wandered what they would find at the Baron place.
::We didn't bring any weapons,:: he commented to the driver.
::We'll worry about that when it comes. Play it by ear. Who knows?:: and cold gray eyes expressionlessly met velvet brown ones in the rearview mirror. ::Maybe Salvatore will be our ticket in.::
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Author's Note: Please review! Don't you know I'm only in on this for the fame and recognition? (I'm kidding! But responses _are_ deeply cherished and appreciated!)
~ Eighteen ~
Stefan stood with arms crossed, staring out the window. Behind him, the television was discordantly mundane against the anguish that ate at him from within.
Elena had been gone for more than two days. Stefan had spoken to Bonnie about a half hour ago on the telephone. Neither had had much to say – nor wanted to say much.
Two days... and that strange occurrence last night. Weak as he was, Stefan had sensed the ripple of Power that ran through the city like wildfire. It had been followed by an electric, ominous moment, as if existence paused on the brink of upheaval, and then the Power had drained away harmlessly.
Elena's disappearance could not have anything to do with that incident... could it? If so, how? She was neither witch not vampire, and who else would be manipulating Power like that? Unless she was the innocent, sacrificial victim. One hand balled into a tight fist.
::Stop tormenting yourself like this,:: the inner voice scolded, for once faintly sympathetic. Stefan ignored it and went on brooding.
A knock sounded on the door, jarring him out of his thoughts. Dread and hope and surprise warred over his features as Stefan crossed the room to answer the door. Who could it be? Elena would not knock; she had the key. Unless she had lost it...
Three vampires stood in the hallway. The first was the one from the café – the one who had known Damon. The second was as lean as the first, but longer and didn't seem to stay quite still, giving the odd impression of a jellyfish in water. And the third –
_Damon?_ Stefan blinked. The third vampire was very like his brother – the same straight glossy black hair, a cold, menacing aura, and classic good looks.
They didn't wait for an invitation, but walked right in, much to Stefan's amazement and annoyance. He was too well mannered to slam the door.
His three unexpected guests fanned out in the living room. "What can I do for you?" Stefan asked, forcing an even tone. ::Maybe they have news...::
::Too right!:: the mental voice cracked whip-like in his head, obviously in answer to his silent thought.
"This place is no longer the dwelling of a human, so we need no invitation to enter," the tall vampire snapped, answering his unspoken question. He was standing in the middle of the room, fists on his hips. His verbal voice sounded much like his mental one. They all stared at each other for a moment.
"Who are you?" Stefan burst out.
"Tristan D'Angelo," the speaker said. "These are Leon Morris and Aodhan Makoe," he went on, indicating first the one Stefan had encountered before, who had draped himself onto the couch, then the other, slighter vampire. _He_ was leaning with arms crossed against the wall beside the window. There was a sense of distance about him, as if he was not touched by the proceedings. Again, Stefan was reminded of Damon.
"Where's your pretty little human girlfriend, Stefan?" Leon asked idly. He didn't look at his unwilling host, but picked up the book Stefan had left faced-down on the coffee table and turned it around in his hands.
Stefan's hands clenched as he jumped to the first conclusion his mind lighted on. "What have you done with her? If you've hurt her–" ::This is bizarre,:: the clinical voice in his head told him. ::These vampires come into your home – and you'll note that there are three of them, obviously well-fed and Powerful – and you're threatening _them_?::
"Us? Hurt _her_? You're mad, man! What makes you think any of us could even _touch_ her?" the loud one – Tristan – shot back with scornful mirth.
"Where's your girlfriend, Stefan?" Leon asked again. "Did she walk out on you? Or did you dump her when you found out about her little secret?" The other vampire looked at him and there was nothing placid or dull about those brown eyes. "I'm surprised she didn't _hug_ you before she left."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Stefan stated, bewildered, angry, defensive.
"We're talking about your girlfriend, the Enemy, the one who will wipe out the vampire race," Tristan said explosively.
Forest green eyes hardened. "You're crazy. Elena can't–"
"But she did," Leon interrupted, his mild tone cutting cleanly through the emphatic exchange. "We all saw her. Even you must have felt the disturbance in the fabric of existence last night; that was _her_. Killing off an Original."
* * *
Salvatore stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Old Ones can't die," he said blankly. Leon mentally rolled his eyes before the Italian vampire shook his head. "You saw her?" he seemed to latch on to that fact. "Where is she?"
::Oh, boy, he's got it bad,:: Leon thought, torn between pity and contempt. ::Clueless, too.::
Scornful laughter from Tristan. "Somewhere _you_ certainly can't go, if you value your health."
"Where is she?" he repeated.
::Now, if I weren't 200-odd-years old and used to ignoring the voice of command,:: Leon began, amused. But he said neutrally, "She's in a closely guarded quarters of one of the most notorious vampire hunters in the Americas."
He half-expected sarcasm for his uninformative comment, but all he got was more obstinacy. "I must know. Give me an address, directions, anything. If you won't tell me, then show me," he insisted. When neither Tristan nor Leon replied, he turned to Makoe. "Please." Leon noticed that the younger Salvatore's manner changed when he looked at Makoe, relaxing and stiffening at the same time.
::Just how he reacts to his brother, no doubt. After all, you can count on family where outsiders would not help you, but with family there's a whole different set of problems,:: Makoe commented coolly.
::Oh, caught that too, did you?::
::Yes. Perhaps I'll cultivate that. For now anyway.::
::Or until he figures out how different you are from his brother,:: Leon agreed.
Leon watched Makoe meet the appeal in the deep green eyes impassively. Tristan was poised to protest. Makoe seemed to be studying Stefan, weighing him in his mind. Finally, he said to his two hunt-mates. "Seeing is believing."
The younger Salvatore – Leon was amused to realize that he thought of Stefan as young although he had in fact lived longer than the rest of them – relaxed as Tristan threw his hands in the air in exasperation. A cold look from Makoe – and possibly a mental blast – made the latter subside into sullen silence.
Leon played along, glancing between his two teammates. "It will be dangerous," he said, seriously.
Looking paler than even a vampire should, Stefan drew himself up. "It doesn't matter."
Leon nodded. "Let's go then." Tristan sulked all the way to the Baron mansion. Makoe seemed relaxed, cruising easily with none of his usual traffic antics. Leon wandered what they would find at the Baron place.
::We didn't bring any weapons,:: he commented to the driver.
::We'll worry about that when it comes. Play it by ear. Who knows?:: and cold gray eyes expressionlessly met velvet brown ones in the rearview mirror. ::Maybe Salvatore will be our ticket in.::