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_
Date posted: 20 December 2002
~ Twenty Eight ~
Three days had passed since the fracas with Samar over his drinking animal blood. The last delivery of blood bags the day before had included some basic supplies such as clothing and toiletries. The vampires had been bemused to find that Jerrick had apparently sent someone to their respective homes to collect the items.
So far, Stefan had managed to avoid the volatile girl and her equally unstable brother. When he spent time with anyone at all, it was usually with the peaceful Leon as they browsed the books in companionable silence. Although they had far from exhausted the supply of reading material, the lack of activity was taking its toll on the vampire. Stefan paced his tiny bedroom restlessly, then decided to wander about outside. He passed the main room, which was empty, filled only with the monotonous ticking of the clock. Aimlessly, he ventured down the opposite passageway.
The enforced idleness gave him ample time to think, something he was not altogether comfortable with, since he usually found himself dwelling on Elena or Damon.
For the most part, he wondered what his brother would think of the entire situation Stefan had managed to get himself into. Stefan would hazard a guess that Damon's reaction would be mocking at the very least, more likely scathing.
He had also wondered, once, what Damon would do if he found out that Elena was destroying all vampires. Would his ruthless brother kill the girl they had once fought over so bitterly?
As for Elena, Stefan was still at a loss as to what to think. On one hand, according to Samar, she had been trying to protect him – a bittersweet revelation – and that she was not even aware that he was being held prisoner, much less responsible for it. Yet, how much was her care worth if she was out to get all his kind?
At least he could think of her without feeling sick with pain now. That was progress, of a sort, he supposed.
He heard a thud, then a crash and a strange clang of metal. Curious, he followed the sound to its source and paused just outside an open door at the far end of the corridor, presented with an unexpected, yet unsurprising sight.
The contents of the room had been moved elsewhere or pushed up against the walls, leaving the middle empty. A number of items were scattered on the floor or among the stacked-up furniture, from kitchen implements to broken chair legs and pillows.
In the midst of this mess, Makoe and Samar were fighting. It wasn't the formalized sparring of a training arena, nor was it an enraged bashing; this was somewhere in between. Samar shouted in rage or triumph more than once, although Makoe showed a marked lack of reaction. It was a peculiar situation where they would use anything within reach as a weapon, or fight barehanded as the situation warranted. Hearing Makoe's calm voice, Stefan realized that he was giving the girl pointers as they went along. Stefan watched, entranced.
Abruptly Makoe called a halt, catching Samar's hand as it descended to deal a devastating blow with a skillet. She returned his bland look innocently, convincing Stefan that she had purposely ignored her instructor's order to stop.
To his surprise, Makoe turned and motioned him into the room. Warily, he did so and stopped a few steps from the door.
"You've been practicing with me so far," the compact vampire told his student. "Now, maybe you ought to try a different opponent," he gestured at Stefan who stood frozen. He could not gracefully back out but neither did he relish the idea of fighting Samar.
From the expression on her face, the feeling was mutual. She stared at him penetratingly. Then alarmingly, she grinned and took a battle-ready stance. Stefan glanced uncertainly at Makoe to find him now perched on top of a table, one leg folded beneath him, the other drawn up to his chest and propping up a negligent arm.
The next instant, he had to sidestep to avoid an on-rushing Samar. She pulled up short and faced him again. Without the advantage of surprise, or at least distraction on his part, she stalked up to him. As before, he did not retreat until she was a bare step in front of him.
When he didn't make any move, Samar experimentally shoved him. He stepped back and waited. Rolling her eyes, she turned to her – their? – instructor with a look of hopeless exasperation on her face.
"There are still men in the world who will refuse to cross swords with a girl. If he won't attack you, use it to your advantage," Makoe prompted her.
Now her expression changed to one of glee. She hefted the skillet and ran at him with a yell meant to put fear in his heart. Stefan _was_ alarmed, but that was mostly because he was caught in an untenable position. His upbringing forbade his striking a female regardless of age or ability.
::I'd fight, if I were you,:: came the calm advise. ::It is not only in love and flirtation that girls want a man to respond to them.::
Aloud, he said, "Stefan, you should be making use of your superior reach." Without his conscious will, one hand snapped out and snatched the makeshift club out of Samar's hand and another planted itself squarely in the middle of her forehead. She flailed briefly, her shorter limbs unable to reach him.
As he would deflect a blow, Stefan sidestepped again and let Samar charge past him. He stared at his own hands, and then at Makoe. He half-expected to see a devilish grin on the other vampire's face, but Makoe's expression was unemotional as he nodded. "That was one way of making greater reach work for you," he said. His tone hinted that it was not quite what he had meant about using the advantage, but he was giving Stefan points for effectiveness, if not style. Nothing in his manner indicated that he had just taken over Stefan's body without permission.
The Italian vampire had no chance to make an issue out of it as Samar returned to exact retribution for the previously suffered indignity.
Two hours later, Stefan had endured his share of humiliation, from tripping over a previously discarded cushion and sprawling gracelessly on the floor to being pummeled breathless to bleeding on – and being bled on by – the diminutive girl. Makoe had ruthlessly taken him over a few times initially – but never giving any outward hint of what he had done – when Stefan had refused to strike out at Samar, but eventually, Stefan had determined to react on his own. At least he would then have some measure of control.
The stocky vampire had mostly called advice or biting comments during the bout but near the end, he had waded into the mêlée and taken them both on. Even with unfair odds, the short vampire had beaten them soundly.
Now the three of them eyed each other, forming a curious triangle. He and Samar looked rather ragged due to the damage their clothes had sustained in the course of battle. Makoe, Stefan noticed a little sourly, was barely out of breath while the other two were panting visibly.
::Don't blame me that you're out of shape,:: the unsympathetic comment sounded in his head. One corner of Stefan's mouth twitched. He was a little unused to such easy telepathy, particularly from someone he was unfamiliar with. Then again, he had had little to do with other vampires up till now, bar his brother.
On a positive note, the last two hours had apparently allowed Samar to get her dislike for him out of her system. She didn't regard him fondly by any means but she looked less inclined to stake him given half the chance. Not that she hadn't tried in the beginning.
::It appears that you would benefit from a little practice. And the hell-cat could use a new playmate. You might as well join us for our little sessions from now on,:: Makoe went on. ::There's little else to do around here for entertainment.::
::Thank you for the offer,:: he returned a trifle dryly, not sure if he would actually take it up. He had a feeling, from the knowing look Makoe shot him, that he would have little choice when the time came. He ought to be irritated at the presumption but it was too small a matter to get worked up over. And besides, he was worn out.
Later, lying on his bed with his hands tucked under his head and stoically ignoring the various bruises and pulled muscles his body complained of, Stefan realized that he felt vaguely good for the first time in almost a week.
Author's Note: Hope you had fun with that. I know I did! But before anyone comments on the martial theme of the last few chapters, I don't know what got into me either! I _can_ say, however, that the next chapter will not be about fighting. Thanks for reading!
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Date posted: 20 December 2002
~ Twenty Eight ~
Three days had passed since the fracas with Samar over his drinking animal blood. The last delivery of blood bags the day before had included some basic supplies such as clothing and toiletries. The vampires had been bemused to find that Jerrick had apparently sent someone to their respective homes to collect the items.
So far, Stefan had managed to avoid the volatile girl and her equally unstable brother. When he spent time with anyone at all, it was usually with the peaceful Leon as they browsed the books in companionable silence. Although they had far from exhausted the supply of reading material, the lack of activity was taking its toll on the vampire. Stefan paced his tiny bedroom restlessly, then decided to wander about outside. He passed the main room, which was empty, filled only with the monotonous ticking of the clock. Aimlessly, he ventured down the opposite passageway.
The enforced idleness gave him ample time to think, something he was not altogether comfortable with, since he usually found himself dwelling on Elena or Damon.
For the most part, he wondered what his brother would think of the entire situation Stefan had managed to get himself into. Stefan would hazard a guess that Damon's reaction would be mocking at the very least, more likely scathing.
He had also wondered, once, what Damon would do if he found out that Elena was destroying all vampires. Would his ruthless brother kill the girl they had once fought over so bitterly?
As for Elena, Stefan was still at a loss as to what to think. On one hand, according to Samar, she had been trying to protect him – a bittersweet revelation – and that she was not even aware that he was being held prisoner, much less responsible for it. Yet, how much was her care worth if she was out to get all his kind?
At least he could think of her without feeling sick with pain now. That was progress, of a sort, he supposed.
He heard a thud, then a crash and a strange clang of metal. Curious, he followed the sound to its source and paused just outside an open door at the far end of the corridor, presented with an unexpected, yet unsurprising sight.
The contents of the room had been moved elsewhere or pushed up against the walls, leaving the middle empty. A number of items were scattered on the floor or among the stacked-up furniture, from kitchen implements to broken chair legs and pillows.
In the midst of this mess, Makoe and Samar were fighting. It wasn't the formalized sparring of a training arena, nor was it an enraged bashing; this was somewhere in between. Samar shouted in rage or triumph more than once, although Makoe showed a marked lack of reaction. It was a peculiar situation where they would use anything within reach as a weapon, or fight barehanded as the situation warranted. Hearing Makoe's calm voice, Stefan realized that he was giving the girl pointers as they went along. Stefan watched, entranced.
Abruptly Makoe called a halt, catching Samar's hand as it descended to deal a devastating blow with a skillet. She returned his bland look innocently, convincing Stefan that she had purposely ignored her instructor's order to stop.
To his surprise, Makoe turned and motioned him into the room. Warily, he did so and stopped a few steps from the door.
"You've been practicing with me so far," the compact vampire told his student. "Now, maybe you ought to try a different opponent," he gestured at Stefan who stood frozen. He could not gracefully back out but neither did he relish the idea of fighting Samar.
From the expression on her face, the feeling was mutual. She stared at him penetratingly. Then alarmingly, she grinned and took a battle-ready stance. Stefan glanced uncertainly at Makoe to find him now perched on top of a table, one leg folded beneath him, the other drawn up to his chest and propping up a negligent arm.
The next instant, he had to sidestep to avoid an on-rushing Samar. She pulled up short and faced him again. Without the advantage of surprise, or at least distraction on his part, she stalked up to him. As before, he did not retreat until she was a bare step in front of him.
When he didn't make any move, Samar experimentally shoved him. He stepped back and waited. Rolling her eyes, she turned to her – their? – instructor with a look of hopeless exasperation on her face.
"There are still men in the world who will refuse to cross swords with a girl. If he won't attack you, use it to your advantage," Makoe prompted her.
Now her expression changed to one of glee. She hefted the skillet and ran at him with a yell meant to put fear in his heart. Stefan _was_ alarmed, but that was mostly because he was caught in an untenable position. His upbringing forbade his striking a female regardless of age or ability.
::I'd fight, if I were you,:: came the calm advise. ::It is not only in love and flirtation that girls want a man to respond to them.::
Aloud, he said, "Stefan, you should be making use of your superior reach." Without his conscious will, one hand snapped out and snatched the makeshift club out of Samar's hand and another planted itself squarely in the middle of her forehead. She flailed briefly, her shorter limbs unable to reach him.
As he would deflect a blow, Stefan sidestepped again and let Samar charge past him. He stared at his own hands, and then at Makoe. He half-expected to see a devilish grin on the other vampire's face, but Makoe's expression was unemotional as he nodded. "That was one way of making greater reach work for you," he said. His tone hinted that it was not quite what he had meant about using the advantage, but he was giving Stefan points for effectiveness, if not style. Nothing in his manner indicated that he had just taken over Stefan's body without permission.
The Italian vampire had no chance to make an issue out of it as Samar returned to exact retribution for the previously suffered indignity.
Two hours later, Stefan had endured his share of humiliation, from tripping over a previously discarded cushion and sprawling gracelessly on the floor to being pummeled breathless to bleeding on – and being bled on by – the diminutive girl. Makoe had ruthlessly taken him over a few times initially – but never giving any outward hint of what he had done – when Stefan had refused to strike out at Samar, but eventually, Stefan had determined to react on his own. At least he would then have some measure of control.
The stocky vampire had mostly called advice or biting comments during the bout but near the end, he had waded into the mêlée and taken them both on. Even with unfair odds, the short vampire had beaten them soundly.
Now the three of them eyed each other, forming a curious triangle. He and Samar looked rather ragged due to the damage their clothes had sustained in the course of battle. Makoe, Stefan noticed a little sourly, was barely out of breath while the other two were panting visibly.
::Don't blame me that you're out of shape,:: the unsympathetic comment sounded in his head. One corner of Stefan's mouth twitched. He was a little unused to such easy telepathy, particularly from someone he was unfamiliar with. Then again, he had had little to do with other vampires up till now, bar his brother.
On a positive note, the last two hours had apparently allowed Samar to get her dislike for him out of her system. She didn't regard him fondly by any means but she looked less inclined to stake him given half the chance. Not that she hadn't tried in the beginning.
::It appears that you would benefit from a little practice. And the hell-cat could use a new playmate. You might as well join us for our little sessions from now on,:: Makoe went on. ::There's little else to do around here for entertainment.::
::Thank you for the offer,:: he returned a trifle dryly, not sure if he would actually take it up. He had a feeling, from the knowing look Makoe shot him, that he would have little choice when the time came. He ought to be irritated at the presumption but it was too small a matter to get worked up over. And besides, he was worn out.
Later, lying on his bed with his hands tucked under his head and stoically ignoring the various bruises and pulled muscles his body complained of, Stefan realized that he felt vaguely good for the first time in almost a week.
Author's Note: Hope you had fun with that. I know I did! But before anyone comments on the martial theme of the last few chapters, I don't know what got into me either! I _can_ say, however, that the next chapter will not be about fighting. Thanks for reading!