Run Away

The first step of anything is always meant to be the hardest. In actual fact, the first step is relatively easy. It's the second that gets you, that brief pause where your confidence starts to waver and seeds of doubt take root and sprout their unwanted heads. When Alaric had let Elena go, he'd made her promise two things: 1) Take as many weapons and bundles of vervain as she could feasibly fit in her car and 2) If she hadn't found Stefan by the end of the summer, she had to come home. It sounded easy enough. Sure, America was a big country but this was Stefan and she knew him like no one else, right? She knew how he thought just like she knew the how she took her coffee -no cream with two sugars- and which floorboards squeaked on the stairs at her house -the fourth and the tenth.

She let herself drive until after two am, unsure where she was heading exactly but deciding that was a problem for Tomorrow's Elena: Right Now Elena needed to close her eyes before she hit a tree, so she pulled in to the first motel she came by. Paying in cash, she made sure to take all her bags into the room -she didn't want to answer any awkward questions such as 'Hey, why have you got a crossbow mixed in with your bunny slippers?'- as she took in the small space, letting out a breath. So, this is what her life looked like now. A rickety bed with a gaudy floral print on the sheets and curtains held together with dust. It was...freeing. Since meeting Stefan, it had been one catastrophe after another, leapfrogging from one danger-filled plan to the next, a never-ending game of Whack-A-Mole bad guys (and girls) who all wanted to upset her life for one reason or another. And she'd survived it all -except that time a week and a half ago, of course- with her chin held high and her morals unfaltering. But you can only live like that for so long, and the weight of the past year was starting to creep up on her, ever since she'd learnt that Stefan was gone, and Klaus with him, resulting in a supernatural time-out for the people of Mystic Falls. She'd spent so long running spinning around that when she finally came to a stop, she finally realized just how much she'd endured, and how much it had changed her.

All the people that now lay dead because of her, all the people that had lost their lives just so that she could keep hers. It didn't feel fair, or right. What weight did her life hold against any other? Why did she get to live when so many didn't? The answer was simple: love. Stefan loved her and so did Damon, and they were vampires, therefore more willing to take a human life than she was. That might not be fair, but it was true. They viewed death differently than she did, had learned to live with it as a constant companion while she would always fight to keep it from her door...except when it hurt someone she cared about. She'd been prepared to die, ready to die with no regrets, and neither of them had respected it, or been able to handle it. It had been her choice, and like so many others they'd refused to let her make it, refused to let her decided what was best for her. And while she was alive because of it...Jenna wasn't. John wasn't.

She hadn't even been able to say goodbye. Her father had died thinking Elena hated him, knowing she hated him, and yet sacrificing himself all the same. She wanted to stay angry at him, and yet that choice had been taken from her as well. What right did she have to be angry when he'd so willingly given his life in place of hers, what did that say about her if she still hurt from his betrayal, and still held it against him even in death? And Jenna: what would she think if all this? Of Elena creeping out into the night and going on this crazy hunt for her boyfriend all on her own, putting her life on the line when all anyone ever did was try and keep it safe? Would she hate her? Or maybe, just maybe, she might respect her for making her one decision for once, being beholden only to herself. She chose to believe so, chose to focus on how much she'd loved her aunt and not their last conversation, full of sorrow and regret.

As she rummaged through her bags for her phone, Elena found her thoughts wandering absently to a line of poetry she'd always liked: 'I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.' She'd come across it in one of Stefan's many poetry books and it had stuck with her, resonated with her. And starting now, she'd be at the helm of that fate.

A yawn cracked through her, tightening her jaw.

Okay, maybe starting tomorrow then.

Putting her phone on her nightstand, a crossbow under the bed and a knife under her opposite pillow, Elena was already asleep by the time her head hit the rough pillowcase, drifting off into oblivion.

It was ten in the morning and Elena was already on her third cup of cheap vending machine coffee, the Styrofoam cup clinging to her sweat-dampened palm as she gripped a map in the other, her uneven scribbles staring up at her, red ink still fresh to the touch. So far, the path the two had made had no pattern or reasoning she could discern, apart from the fact they seemed to be heading south, which left her in a very unhelpful position. Should she try and intercept them, and then draw Stefan out? Or should she wait for them to stop moving around so much and come up with a more concrete plan? How would she even get him away from Klaus in the first place? It's not like he'd let Stefan go without a fight, one she knew she would lose.

"Ugh, why couldn't you two have just gone to Disneyland if you wanted to have fun?" Elena groaned, draining the last of her coffee, studying the faint traces of purple left by the vervain she'd put in there. It was stupid. Elena knew it was stupid to do this on her own, to think she could handle it. She was seventeen years old! She couldn't even plan a sleepover without Caroline's help; what hope was there for her being able to outsmart an Original vampire-werwolf hybrid who was likely well-versed in going unnoticed, with over a thousand years more life experience than her?

Maybe that worked in her favour, though. She was young and reckless and was willing to try anything, willing to risk everything. Elena was in this for the long haul and she had no intention of returning to home empty-handed.

"Come on, Elena," the brunette murmured to herself, her voice echoing in the empty room. "Everything you need to know is right here." Most of their recent hits had been within a five hundred miles radius of Mystic Falls. That had to mean something. Klaus had money, probably -it would be weird if he didn't, right, after all this time, and Elijah had mentioned something about being English Lord's when they'd met Katherine- so they could have been anywhere. The two could have been sunning themselves on some private island or taking a trip to see the Northern Lights, but they were still in the general area, seeing to go to a town for a day or two then move on to the next one. Elena had gone on enough midnight snack runs to know the signs of someone looking for something. The only question that remained was therefore, what was it?

Yet answering that wouldn't help her find Stefan right now. Elena traced the pen marks with the tip of her index finger, noting the last one veered off ever so slightly south. A fork in the road. A deviation from the pattern. They were about to change routine...

...and she'd be there to intercept them. Now that she had a direction, she decided to get a more detailed map of that particular area, as well as a chocolate bar to take of the edge of the hunger she could feel forming in her stomach. God, when was the last time she'd had a proper meal she hadn't just thrown together out of necessity? Had it been when Jenna got out of the hospital after Katherine compelled her to stab herself? Before? She couldn't remember, and that didn't sit well with her. It didn't sit well at all. After making another trip to the vending machine, Elena planned out her route for the next few days as she munched away at the caramel gooeyness, trying to work out how much gas she might need and other such details. Hunger now satiated for the moment, the next thing in order was a shower; they always helped calm her mind.

The water for the shower turned on with a teeth-rattling groan, spraying her face with icy cold water until she yelped and twisted at the rusty metal. A quick survey of the soaps on offer made her infinitely grateful for the toiletries Caroline had convinced her where necessary, and soon the tension was easing from her shoulders after each pass of the warm spray. Washing her hair as well -she didn't know the next time she'd get the chance- Elena wrapped herself in a towel, her hair in another, and proceeded to drag out some clothes from her duffel, cursing when they all spilled out in a tangled heap. Why hadn't she let someone else pack her bags for her, like Bonnie; she could have used magic and made it all neat and tidy. Deciding to just grab the first things she came across -an old Timberwolves tee and sleep shorts- she dried her hair off as best she could with the towel the size of a large handkerchief before crawling into bed for a quick power nap, knowing she'd most likely be driving through the night again and should get some rest whenever possible.

She must have needed the sleep more than she thought, for when her eyes opened again Elena glanced at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock on the side table and saw they read 8:14 pm. She suddenly felt restless, and jumpy, adrenaline crawling under her skin like crabs scuttling across a beach, making her just as snappy, or likely to snap. Sure, she could turn on the TV or buy a paper or something to pass the time before she hit the road again, but neither one of those options held much appeal. She was young, and free for the first time in forever, and what did teenagers without adult supervision like to do: party.

But that would entail leaving, and Elena was, understandably, reluctant to abandon the safety of the motel, but a part of her wanted something normal, wanted to go out and explore a little. Besides, this was a motel, and a 'Do not enter' key on the doorknob wasn't exactly enough to stop a vampire, or something else, from getting her if they wanted to. No one knew who she was here, no one knew her past or who's face she shared. She'd just be another body in the crowd, another being living their life and enjoying the time they had. What was stopping her from doing the same?

Absolutely nothing.

Kicking the covers away, Elena repeated the process yet again of finding something to wear, settling on a white three-quarter length sleeved blouse and a pair of dark jeans. A pair of ankle boots completed the ensemble, as well as the knife at her back and a think stake down the side of her right shoe, it's point a comforting weight pressing on the arch of her foot with each step. While it was too hot for the leather jacket she slipped over the top, it gave her a sense of security and hid the handle of her knife from view and provided her with a space to put her keys since her jean's pockets were too small and she didn't want to be fiddling about for them in her bag in case she needed to make a quick getaway. Fifteen minutes later she was basking in the last of the day's sunlight, long shadows at her feet as she crossed the sidewalk, her purse bouncing in time with her steps, as easy and weightless as her breaths.

As Elena read the signs dotted about she learned she'd landed somewhere outside Richmond, far enough away that no vampire would recognize her yet still retaining the Virginia charm of her home town. She soon found herself at a small park, full of kids being dragged off by parents much to their chagrin. Claiming an empty swing, Elena let her feet drag in the sand as she gradually picked up momentum, swinging higher and higher. A heady laugh escaped her, bright and carefree and maybe bordering on manic to anyone who heard it, anyone who didn't know what the last year of her life had been like, where moments such as these, pure and innocent and simple, and been few and far between and inevitably ruined by someone or something supernatural. Tightening her hold on the metal chain, Elena pulled out her phone from her bag and snapped a picture of the view when her swing crested it's next peak, marvelling at the streaks of pink and indigo sweeping across the sky. Now thoroughly relaxed, she let herself simply sit there for several moments, nothing but the breeze and the sound of her own breathing fill the silence.

Before her parent's accident, Elena hadn't really noticed how much she breathed. It's not something people usually think about, is it, since your body does it so naturally. But afterwards, every breath seemed to hold a new sense of importance to her, that she somehow had to earn each one since she'd been the one to live, and her parents hadn't. That she had to prove she'd been worth saving and wouldn't waste the life she had. And Elena had tried. She'd tried so hard, tried to keep everything together, keep Jeremy afloat, keep Jenna safe from vampires, keep Stefan and Damon from ripping each other's throat out over her, keep her friends alive and happy. Keep herself physically fine so she could die at the proper moment. Right then, though, Elena Gilbert didn't have to try and do anything. She didn't have anyone to please, anyone to prove herself to, no expectations to uphold. It was just her on the swing, moving back and forth, watching the world go by and for once feeling a part of it, rather than outside of it, looking in on a normalcy she could never again experience.

I should have taken a vacation sooner, Elena thought as she got up from the swing, setting the chain to rights, the tinkling of metal filling her ears. She picked away across the park, over the empty plastic bottles and Styrofoam cups and crisp packets -most of which she picked up, her inner Caroline nagging about nature and squirrels and foxes getting their necks stuck in things on their hunt for food- until she reached the gate, swinging out on squeaky hinges. The park just happened to be near a bookstore, so Elena decided to stick her head in, instantly drawn to the sight of neatly ordered spined like a moth to a flame. She couldn't help it; it was the writer in her. Making a beeline for the YA section, internally cringing at the sight of Stephanie Meyer's name -she would pick Buffy or Anne Rice over her any day- she let her fingers trail over the bright covers, tempted by the latest Cassandra Clare book.

She couldn't remember the last book she'd sat down and read, not for school but simply because she wanted to curl up with a good story. Her fingers hovered over the paper, unsure. Was it selfish, to take the time to read something while Stefan could be out there, God knew where, suffering and alone and in pain and needing her? Or would he tell her to never abandon the things that she loved, the things that made her who she was, that a few hours wouldn't kill her, or him, in the grand scheme of life?

And it had a really pretty cover. And it was set in London. And it was historical. And..she was already looking at the price and getting out the money to pay for it. They had a section for journals, Elena noted, and she quickly found one she liked in a warm honey-brown, the feel of the supple leather under the pads of her fingers conjuring memories of long nights and persistent thoughts, most of which had pertained to the man she was now so desperate to find. Paying in cash, Elena slipped out of the shop, purchases stuffed in her bag. She was just beginning to toy with the idea of going back to her motel when a girl bumped into her, sending a stack of what looked like party flyers fluttering everywhere, an army of paper butterflies desperate to be loosed.

"Hey, are you okay?" Elena asked, helping the girl to her feet. She was younger than her, barely even sixteen, she'd say, with long blonde hair to her waist, a scarf tied around her neck and a dreamy expression clouding her eyes.

"I think so," the girl murmured, brushing off the fabric of her skirt. "I wasn't looking where I was going. Silly me."

Those eyes. There was something about those eyes, she'd seen that look before, confused and dazed and almost high, and who wore a scarf in this heat unless they were hiding hickeys or...

The teen made to move past her, but Elena stilled her with a hand on her elbow. She knew that look; it would be criminal if she didn't. Her boyfriend was a vampire, after all, and she'd seen both him and Damon compel enough people to recognize the affects, and she doubted the scarf was to hide some kisses.

"Can I have one of these?" Elena inquired, gesturing to the neon green paper in her hand.

"Sure." The girl handed it over without a second thought, exclaiming brightly, "See you there!" before she practically skipped down the street.

"I can't even go one day, can I?" the brunette mused as she scanned the flyer's content, the name of some band she didn't know and a promise of crazy fun for those looking for something 'different,' an offer she had no desire to explore.

She had two options: 1) Go back to her motel, throw her bags in the car and pretend she'd never met that girl.

Or

2) Be really stupid and go to a party that with only a steak, a knife and a vervain grenade she'd thrown in her bag.

Elena had seen so many people die, people who didn't deserve it, innocent of everything but being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who would she be if she turned a blind eye now?

She wouldn't be her.

No matter where you are in the world, it seemed teen parties followed an unwritten formula: music that made your ears bleed, alcohol that would make your insides bleed, and enough hip thrusting and gyrating to make you wish you'd joined a convent.

Fine, maybe she was exaggerating a little...

A guy threw up beside her, wiping his mouth and grabbing another drink all within the span of ten seconds.

...she stood corrected.

The party had been easy enough to find, laughter and noise spilling out as frequently as the people that staggered out of it, some looking much paler than others, leaving her with no doubts about was going on inside the building as she parked her car down the end of the block.

Now weaving her way through the dimly lit, crowded interior, Elena perched on a stool at the bar, bobbing her head to the beat, all the while looking like a partying teenager while in actual fact she was surveying the room for anyone packing a little extra in the age department. Of course, not all vampires looked alike, not all of them bowed down to the stereotypes of pop culture, but there seemed to be some traits, from the predatory set of their eyes to their preternatural stillness that they all seemed to naturally possess, as if they were a rock amongst the stream of humanity, ever unchanging and resolute. She doubted Damon would be happy with such a comparison if he ever heard it, but that didn't make it any less true.

"Another drink, mister!"

Elena cocked her head at the sound of the familiar voice, observing the girl was still wearing the same clothes she'd worn two hours ago, only now sporting a whole lot more eye makeup and a fresh stain seeping into the fabric of her scarf, blooming like a poppy.

Her hand was soon in her bag, pulling out a vial of vervain.

"Hey, I know you! We met earlier! I'm so glad you came!" the girl cheered as the bartender passed her a cocktail, pink liquid sloshing over the side as she grasped it with shaking fingers, wrapping her arm around Elena's shoulders like they were the best of friends.

"I'm glad I came, too." I'm glad I found you before someone else did and made a meal out of you.

"Do you wanna dance? Drink? Something...else?" The blonde raised a brow, giggling like she'd told the world's funniest joke. Elena certainly wasn't laughing, though, but she had to keep up appearances.

"Sure," she replied, "let's get me a drink."

Within a blink, Elena tipped the vervain into the glass, watching as it dissolved and became lost within the midst of swirling glacé cherries. Miming taking a sip of her own drink, she let herself be pulled onto the dance floor, instantly assaulted by the press of bodies, the smell of a thousand perfumes and sprays, underlined by the sharp tang of alcohol and sweat. A veritable vamp buffet, but Elena had no intention of letting anyone else be on the menu.

The music grew louder, drums and electric guitar and thumping bass, the kind of thing she'd heard leaking out from under her brother's closed doors for many a year now, a glaring contrast to her Taylor Swift and Cristina Aguilera and Katy Perry albums. Hands reached out, grasping her waist, and Elena quickly shook them off, keeping her brown eyes trained on the young blonde girl carving a path through the dance floor like a knife through butter, and she soon realized it wasn't because she was a good dancer: someone was dragging her.

After many a pillow fight she'd learnt how effective elbows were as a deterrent, and she put hers to good use, ignoring the muttered protests and curses of those in her way. Bursting out the back door like a cork freed from a bottle, Elena heaved a breath, lungs grateful for the nighttime breeze filling them, before her gaze latched on to the sight before her, an unknown vampire pinning the girl against a wall, looking deep into her eyes, telling her not to scream. But she did. She screamed, and kicked, and flailed, much to the vampire's surprise, and something inside Elena snapped at the sight, her feet eating up the pavement as she cried out, "Let her go!" palming her stake and angling it behind her back.

The vampire turned his head, fangs glinting in the evening light, iris's flooded with blood. "Katherine?"

"Oh my God, Katherine's here?"

That was when Elena realized she wasn't alone, that there was five other vampires at the end of the alley, leaning up against the brick, fangs out and ready to play, and that she was completely and utterly screwed.

Author's Note: Yay, chapter two! If anyone's curious, the Cassandra Clare book Elena is talking about is Clockwork Angel, since it came out that year and I'm a super, duper MEGA fan. Will Herondale for LIFE!

Off to edit chapter three!

All my love, Temperance Cain