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: Forgot to mention before that I've taken to naming each chapter, as seen in the drop down menu on the top right of the screen.
~ Nineteen ~
Crystal sat in her wheelchair, fuming quietly over her invalid state. Most of the cuts and bruises were gone except for the one or two deep wounds. Her immense blood loss had also been rectified. Smashed bones and internal injuries were another matter, however.
She stubbornly, painstakingly wheeled herself over to the gaping hole in the wall where tall French doors had stood before last night. Past the patio, on the once-green lawn, she watched the pathetic ex-vampires doing their 'weapons training'. The girl was there with them, swinging an eight-foot pole clumsily.
Crystal scowled, completely without patience in her black mood. Useless sissies, the lot of them. It was just as well they were human again; whoever thought they ought to predators in the first place? And the girl was little better. Crystal recalled how the worthless frill had just stood there during the fight with Emery. Some Enemy she was. The fact that Crystal would not have wanted the inept girl to interfere and get in her way anyway was conveniently brushed aside.
And still, the former vampires fawned over her, like she was some heavenly being. And that Eiran fellow was the worse of the lot, fussing over her continuously.
She had objected to their presence from the beginning, but Jerrick had insisted, maintaining that they would guard Elena Gilbert with their lives. Admittedly, none of the vampire hunters in her band would; to them, she was merely a convenient vampire magnet. To her too, Crystal admitted. They should have thought of that bogus prophecy idea ages ago. Her frown darkened as she brooded.
"If it bothers you so much, don't look," she was advised dryly. Jerrick appeared beside her, his gaze following the direction of hers.
"Playing your mind tricks on me again?" she asked dangerously, despite the fact that she was in no condition to inflict injuries on others.
"I told you long ago that telepathy is not solely the province of vampires," he commented lightly, wheeling her chair away from the phantom doors and deeper into the room. He positioned her chair facing a divan, which he sank onto. "But, no, I wasn't reading your thoughts, only your expression."
Crystal studied his body language; relaxed but businesslike. She tipped her head in an aggressive manner sending her own silent message.
"I've spoken with Elena. She won't need to be guarded anymore. I thought now might be a good time to do a post mortem," he said offhandedly.
"What happened after my fight with Emery? My people told me that the vampires ran for no apparent reason," she asked, sounding faintly suspicious. Her fingers idly picked at the ends of one bandage.
"There were three other vampires in the attic. When Elena dealt with Emery, they ran. I suppose they spread the word that their supposedly invulnerable leader was no more and that spooked the rest."
"My people didn't hear any communication."
"Telepathy, of course."
::He's a terrible liar,:: Crystal thought derisively. She stared hard at him, but her gaze seemed to slide off him like water off a duck. ::Pity no one calls his bluffs.:: She wondered why that was, but that thought slithered out of her grasp oddly.
She waited for him to say something, but he merely looked at her with polite interest. Her impatient nature finally won. "She did it, eh? She got him?" she asked brusquely, for lack of anything else to say. He simply nodded. "Fine," she said. "So what now?"
"Now, you and the rest of the hunters should concentrate on regaining full strength and recruiting. Given the number of vampires that participated in last night's brawl and lived to tell of it, a second wave will not be long in coming." His relaxed pose never wavered and he sounded rather preoccupied as he told her this. Crystal wondered what was distracting his thoughts. His talk with the girl, perhaps?
"And what about _your_ people?" she asked, meaning the witches and ex-vampires.
"We will help wherever we can for as long as we can." Crystal's lip curled slightly, mirroring her opinion of how useful she thought they were.
"Yes, you've made your thoughts on that matter abundantly clear," Jerrick snapped suddenly in a lightning change of mood that still threw her off guard after their partnership of one year. "I think," he continued with a frost-tinged tone, "That it would be best if you try and keep your prejudices out of your interaction with the other members of our team." Subtle, meaningful emphasis on that last word.
"Reading my expression again, Jerrick?" she asked ominously.
"No, you were thinking very loud and graphically that time," he retorted, but his mood was closer to its former, abstracted state.
"Elena and I will be working together to strengthen her control of that gift of hers, in the meantime," he added, eerie blue eyes fixed absently on something on his right.
"More mystic mumbo-jumbo?" she dared to taunt.
"Perhaps," he rose, unperturbed by the jibe. "But all the same, it may save us in the end."
He left before she could think of anything to say to that faintly cliché remark.
* * *
::What about Stefan Salvatore?::
The wooden staff made a satisfying _thunk_ when it hit the practice dummy. Eiran had mentioned that the noncombatants trained with weapons whenever possible. At least they would have rudimentary skills to defend themselves with, if the need arose, he had explained. Elena, sure that the need _would_ arise and soon, had asked to join in. She chose a spear; no close fighting with knives and daggers for her, thank you. She wanted to keep her opponent as far away as possible.
::What about Stefan Salvatore?::
_Thud_
::I don't know. No, I _do_ know. I just don't know what to do with what I do know I have to do,:: Elena thought miserably, wielding the ungainly eight-foot pole. Unfortunately, her new gifts did not include instant fighting skills. The staff was awkward in her hands but she thought she was getting the hang of it. She could know move relatively fast and keep her balance and aim–
She gradually became aware of jeers. She looked about – unwisely. Without careful control, the tip dipped and nearly brained Sheila, one of the Turned.
More derisive laughter.
Elena hefted the staff, struggling slightly before she managed to plant the butt safely on the ground. She flashed an apologetic glance at Sheila, then her eyes were drawn to the source of the scorn.
A group of vampire slayers, some bearing bandages, were standing beyond the training circle. Their derogatory remarks about the skill of the group in general and Elena in particular were loud enough to be clearly understood. Noticing her attention turned on them, their commentary sharpened and increased.
Elena could feel the blood rising in her face, but whether from embarrassment or anger, she was not sure. Around her, the ex-vampires and witches slowed and then stopped their training to exchange uncertain glances. They had always ignored the mocking of the hunters, pretending not to hear.
Angered on their behalf almost as much as on her own, Elena tossed her hair head and raised her chin challengingly.
"Ooohhh, scary! Do you suppose she got Emery with that same look?" one hunter asked his companions in mock terror. His right arm bore a bandage.
"Oh, definitely," agreed another, a bony, snobbish-looking girl. "Or maybe she bashed his head in by accident." That suggestion met with general laughter from the group.
"If you're such experts, why not come here and demonstrate your skill?" Elena called, forcing her voice to stay calm.
An arrogant-looking hunter with one leg in a white cast came to the front. "If it's a demonstration you want, babe, I'll be happy to oblige," he drawled suggestively. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw Eiran stiffen. Hoping he would control his temper, she smiled sweetly, reverting to the old Elena Gilbert, the queen of Robert E. Lee.
She eyed him briefly, then took a deliberate, swaying step forward. "Well, then, what are you doing all the way over there?" she asked meaningfully. And now Eiran's look turned disbelieving and his head swiveled to her. She ignored him.
Amid catcalls and snide remarks contributed by his friends, the cocky hunter hobbled up to her, a self-confident smirk on his face and an anticipatory light in his eyes. She made herself hold his gaze boldly, hoping fervently that her plan would work. Her mind ran through the sequence frantically.
He was in front of her, hands greedily reaching out. She let her smile widen, forced herself to relax when he pulled her to him and lowered his head to roughly capture her lips with his.
Elena's free hand slipped up to his chest while the one holding the staff casually went behind him. She shifted position slightly as if to press herself against him. Eyes wide open where his were blissfully shut, she positioned the pole carefully–
–and slammed her heel into the instep of his good foot.
Instinctively – thankfully – he let go of her and stepped back. Elena's lance encumbered his injured foot and the unwieldy limb could not respond in time for him to recover his balance. For good measure, Elena shoved him hard in the chest.
He sprawled on the ground. She wasted no time pulling the staff from under him. Recklessly, wildly, she spun it two-handed, so that the sharp end pointed to his throat. He froze, unable to get up or roll away.
Tense, surprised silence, then laughter erupted from all the watchers, with a stray cheer or two. Elena spaced her hands apart to steady the lance, hoping that she looked competent and in control. She certainly didn't _feel_ that way.
All the same, she flashed him another sweet, edged smile. "Oh, yes, very impressive," she mocked loudly enough to be heard by most of their audience. She held the position for another moment before backing a step and setting the butt of the staff firmly at her feet. He stayed still for another couple of seconds then awkwardly got to his feet.
She looked around to see grins lingering on many faces, including quite a few hunters'. One elfin girl with all four limbs in casts and seated in a wheelchair, was still laughing hilariously. Elena wondered what she had suffered from the man to warrant that reaction.
She lifted her chin challengingly again. "Now, is there anyone who would like to give us a couple of tips for real?" she asked, trying to sound as humble as her posture would let her.
The laughter subsided into another tense silence as both groups eyed each other. Elena could almost see the wheels turning in the slayers' heads. Why should they teach these wimps anything? Why let them get an edge over the rest of us? This hopeless lot? Hah!
"Oh, what the heck?" a voice from the hunters' side broke the stalemate. It was the elfin girl. "It's not like there's anything else to do around here right now, anyway." She jerked her head and a companion who appeared unscathed by last night's fighting wheeled her chair forward.
When she was in front of Elena, she stuck out a hand as best she could and, with a wide smile, introduced herself. "Taura Lamberg."
"Elena Gilbert," she returned, taking the slight girl's hand, careful to keep her grasp firm but gentle.
"I know. We all do," Taura assured, tipping her head to indicate the hunters. "Although," and she leaned forward, voice dropping to conspirational level, "Most of them wouldn't admit it if you gave them a million bucks." She sat back again. "This is Mabel," she added, waving her fingers in the direction of her silent companion.
Elena nodded courteously and received an equally polite reply, although the girl's expression didn't change a hair. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw a handful of other hunters approaching the training arena and felt relief.
Then Taura reclaimed Elena's attention. "Oh, that was marvelous! Domick had that one coming a long time; thank you, thank you, thank you," she chortled.
Elena was reminded of Bonnie and felt a sharp pang of nostalgia and homesickness. She blinked quickly, to banish the emotions as Taura raised her voice and called, "Okay, let's get down to business!"
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Author's Note: Forgot to mention before that I've taken to naming each chapter, as seen in the drop down menu on the top right of the screen.
~ Nineteen ~
Crystal sat in her wheelchair, fuming quietly over her invalid state. Most of the cuts and bruises were gone except for the one or two deep wounds. Her immense blood loss had also been rectified. Smashed bones and internal injuries were another matter, however.
She stubbornly, painstakingly wheeled herself over to the gaping hole in the wall where tall French doors had stood before last night. Past the patio, on the once-green lawn, she watched the pathetic ex-vampires doing their 'weapons training'. The girl was there with them, swinging an eight-foot pole clumsily.
Crystal scowled, completely without patience in her black mood. Useless sissies, the lot of them. It was just as well they were human again; whoever thought they ought to predators in the first place? And the girl was little better. Crystal recalled how the worthless frill had just stood there during the fight with Emery. Some Enemy she was. The fact that Crystal would not have wanted the inept girl to interfere and get in her way anyway was conveniently brushed aside.
And still, the former vampires fawned over her, like she was some heavenly being. And that Eiran fellow was the worse of the lot, fussing over her continuously.
She had objected to their presence from the beginning, but Jerrick had insisted, maintaining that they would guard Elena Gilbert with their lives. Admittedly, none of the vampire hunters in her band would; to them, she was merely a convenient vampire magnet. To her too, Crystal admitted. They should have thought of that bogus prophecy idea ages ago. Her frown darkened as she brooded.
"If it bothers you so much, don't look," she was advised dryly. Jerrick appeared beside her, his gaze following the direction of hers.
"Playing your mind tricks on me again?" she asked dangerously, despite the fact that she was in no condition to inflict injuries on others.
"I told you long ago that telepathy is not solely the province of vampires," he commented lightly, wheeling her chair away from the phantom doors and deeper into the room. He positioned her chair facing a divan, which he sank onto. "But, no, I wasn't reading your thoughts, only your expression."
Crystal studied his body language; relaxed but businesslike. She tipped her head in an aggressive manner sending her own silent message.
"I've spoken with Elena. She won't need to be guarded anymore. I thought now might be a good time to do a post mortem," he said offhandedly.
"What happened after my fight with Emery? My people told me that the vampires ran for no apparent reason," she asked, sounding faintly suspicious. Her fingers idly picked at the ends of one bandage.
"There were three other vampires in the attic. When Elena dealt with Emery, they ran. I suppose they spread the word that their supposedly invulnerable leader was no more and that spooked the rest."
"My people didn't hear any communication."
"Telepathy, of course."
::He's a terrible liar,:: Crystal thought derisively. She stared hard at him, but her gaze seemed to slide off him like water off a duck. ::Pity no one calls his bluffs.:: She wondered why that was, but that thought slithered out of her grasp oddly.
She waited for him to say something, but he merely looked at her with polite interest. Her impatient nature finally won. "She did it, eh? She got him?" she asked brusquely, for lack of anything else to say. He simply nodded. "Fine," she said. "So what now?"
"Now, you and the rest of the hunters should concentrate on regaining full strength and recruiting. Given the number of vampires that participated in last night's brawl and lived to tell of it, a second wave will not be long in coming." His relaxed pose never wavered and he sounded rather preoccupied as he told her this. Crystal wondered what was distracting his thoughts. His talk with the girl, perhaps?
"And what about _your_ people?" she asked, meaning the witches and ex-vampires.
"We will help wherever we can for as long as we can." Crystal's lip curled slightly, mirroring her opinion of how useful she thought they were.
"Yes, you've made your thoughts on that matter abundantly clear," Jerrick snapped suddenly in a lightning change of mood that still threw her off guard after their partnership of one year. "I think," he continued with a frost-tinged tone, "That it would be best if you try and keep your prejudices out of your interaction with the other members of our team." Subtle, meaningful emphasis on that last word.
"Reading my expression again, Jerrick?" she asked ominously.
"No, you were thinking very loud and graphically that time," he retorted, but his mood was closer to its former, abstracted state.
"Elena and I will be working together to strengthen her control of that gift of hers, in the meantime," he added, eerie blue eyes fixed absently on something on his right.
"More mystic mumbo-jumbo?" she dared to taunt.
"Perhaps," he rose, unperturbed by the jibe. "But all the same, it may save us in the end."
He left before she could think of anything to say to that faintly cliché remark.
* * *
::What about Stefan Salvatore?::
The wooden staff made a satisfying _thunk_ when it hit the practice dummy. Eiran had mentioned that the noncombatants trained with weapons whenever possible. At least they would have rudimentary skills to defend themselves with, if the need arose, he had explained. Elena, sure that the need _would_ arise and soon, had asked to join in. She chose a spear; no close fighting with knives and daggers for her, thank you. She wanted to keep her opponent as far away as possible.
::What about Stefan Salvatore?::
_Thud_
::I don't know. No, I _do_ know. I just don't know what to do with what I do know I have to do,:: Elena thought miserably, wielding the ungainly eight-foot pole. Unfortunately, her new gifts did not include instant fighting skills. The staff was awkward in her hands but she thought she was getting the hang of it. She could know move relatively fast and keep her balance and aim–
She gradually became aware of jeers. She looked about – unwisely. Without careful control, the tip dipped and nearly brained Sheila, one of the Turned.
More derisive laughter.
Elena hefted the staff, struggling slightly before she managed to plant the butt safely on the ground. She flashed an apologetic glance at Sheila, then her eyes were drawn to the source of the scorn.
A group of vampire slayers, some bearing bandages, were standing beyond the training circle. Their derogatory remarks about the skill of the group in general and Elena in particular were loud enough to be clearly understood. Noticing her attention turned on them, their commentary sharpened and increased.
Elena could feel the blood rising in her face, but whether from embarrassment or anger, she was not sure. Around her, the ex-vampires and witches slowed and then stopped their training to exchange uncertain glances. They had always ignored the mocking of the hunters, pretending not to hear.
Angered on their behalf almost as much as on her own, Elena tossed her hair head and raised her chin challengingly.
"Ooohhh, scary! Do you suppose she got Emery with that same look?" one hunter asked his companions in mock terror. His right arm bore a bandage.
"Oh, definitely," agreed another, a bony, snobbish-looking girl. "Or maybe she bashed his head in by accident." That suggestion met with general laughter from the group.
"If you're such experts, why not come here and demonstrate your skill?" Elena called, forcing her voice to stay calm.
An arrogant-looking hunter with one leg in a white cast came to the front. "If it's a demonstration you want, babe, I'll be happy to oblige," he drawled suggestively. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw Eiran stiffen. Hoping he would control his temper, she smiled sweetly, reverting to the old Elena Gilbert, the queen of Robert E. Lee.
She eyed him briefly, then took a deliberate, swaying step forward. "Well, then, what are you doing all the way over there?" she asked meaningfully. And now Eiran's look turned disbelieving and his head swiveled to her. She ignored him.
Amid catcalls and snide remarks contributed by his friends, the cocky hunter hobbled up to her, a self-confident smirk on his face and an anticipatory light in his eyes. She made herself hold his gaze boldly, hoping fervently that her plan would work. Her mind ran through the sequence frantically.
He was in front of her, hands greedily reaching out. She let her smile widen, forced herself to relax when he pulled her to him and lowered his head to roughly capture her lips with his.
Elena's free hand slipped up to his chest while the one holding the staff casually went behind him. She shifted position slightly as if to press herself against him. Eyes wide open where his were blissfully shut, she positioned the pole carefully–
–and slammed her heel into the instep of his good foot.
Instinctively – thankfully – he let go of her and stepped back. Elena's lance encumbered his injured foot and the unwieldy limb could not respond in time for him to recover his balance. For good measure, Elena shoved him hard in the chest.
He sprawled on the ground. She wasted no time pulling the staff from under him. Recklessly, wildly, she spun it two-handed, so that the sharp end pointed to his throat. He froze, unable to get up or roll away.
Tense, surprised silence, then laughter erupted from all the watchers, with a stray cheer or two. Elena spaced her hands apart to steady the lance, hoping that she looked competent and in control. She certainly didn't _feel_ that way.
All the same, she flashed him another sweet, edged smile. "Oh, yes, very impressive," she mocked loudly enough to be heard by most of their audience. She held the position for another moment before backing a step and setting the butt of the staff firmly at her feet. He stayed still for another couple of seconds then awkwardly got to his feet.
She looked around to see grins lingering on many faces, including quite a few hunters'. One elfin girl with all four limbs in casts and seated in a wheelchair, was still laughing hilariously. Elena wondered what she had suffered from the man to warrant that reaction.
She lifted her chin challengingly again. "Now, is there anyone who would like to give us a couple of tips for real?" she asked, trying to sound as humble as her posture would let her.
The laughter subsided into another tense silence as both groups eyed each other. Elena could almost see the wheels turning in the slayers' heads. Why should they teach these wimps anything? Why let them get an edge over the rest of us? This hopeless lot? Hah!
"Oh, what the heck?" a voice from the hunters' side broke the stalemate. It was the elfin girl. "It's not like there's anything else to do around here right now, anyway." She jerked her head and a companion who appeared unscathed by last night's fighting wheeled her chair forward.
When she was in front of Elena, she stuck out a hand as best she could and, with a wide smile, introduced herself. "Taura Lamberg."
"Elena Gilbert," she returned, taking the slight girl's hand, careful to keep her grasp firm but gentle.
"I know. We all do," Taura assured, tipping her head to indicate the hunters. "Although," and she leaned forward, voice dropping to conspirational level, "Most of them wouldn't admit it if you gave them a million bucks." She sat back again. "This is Mabel," she added, waving her fingers in the direction of her silent companion.
Elena nodded courteously and received an equally polite reply, although the girl's expression didn't change a hair. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw a handful of other hunters approaching the training arena and felt relief.
Then Taura reclaimed Elena's attention. "Oh, that was marvelous! Domick had that one coming a long time; thank you, thank you, thank you," she chortled.
Elena was reminded of Bonnie and felt a sharp pang of nostalgia and homesickness. She blinked quickly, to banish the emotions as Taura raised her voice and called, "Okay, let's get down to business!"