Hello! If any of you have read Familia Supra Omnia then you're familiar with my style. This is not going to be another FSO - but I am still riding the poly/originals high and this was actually a starter chapter for a book (non-fanfic, an actual to-be-published book) that I worked on a few years ago. I just decided not to keep writing it so I thought, hey, why not convert it and see where it goes?

We do have soul mates because I just can't let go of that damn trope. But no deities and overpowered OCs in this one, loves. Bethany is about as powerless as they come. I have no warnings other than the canon typical stuff and that Bethany has complex post traumatic stress disorder and other issues that come from being poor in a backwater community with addict parents and having to grow up very fast.

This is extremely self indulgent of me, because you can pretty much consider Beth a self-insert who lives in a small town outside of NOLA with no knowledge of the TVD universe.

Ad Meliora

-1-

Bethany

Pain shot through my knee from where I'd hit the door frame. It took all my self control to keep myself from screaming, my belt loop caught on the door handle and my keys launched from my hand. I heard a splash and glanced over to see ripples on the surface of a puddle. Must've rained last night.

"Perfect. Fucking great. Who designed these handles? Why couldn't we just have regular round knobs?" I growled, releasing an angry puff of air. I pulled back and unhooked myself.

I already don't want to work today and I haven't even locked the front door. "If this is how today is gonna be I may as well call in."

I crouched down to the puddle and fished out my keys. If my electric bill wasn't overdue I wouldn't go in today. Nope. I'd be back in my jammies, box of caramel popcorn in my lap with something trashy on the television. Maybe I'd do the dishes that were piled up in the sink.

Probably not.

"Hey, c'mon I'm gonna be late!" My sister, Valerie, called from beside the car; pulling the locked handle impatiently. "I've got a third period test I want to do some last minute reviewing for."

I locked the house and managed to get to the car without another incident. "As if you'd fail it," I said, turning the key more than once to get the engine to fire up. It's a twenty year old junker our Mom got off a guy she used to sell crack to. I wish I could afford to replace it, if only to erase even one stain of our parents legacy.

"I could fail if I don't go over some things again." Val stated in a huff, leg bouncing as we backed out of the drive.

I rolled my eyes. Valerie's a genius, only fifteen and already finishing high school. Fast track to college, several full ride ivy league offers already on the table.

Hard to imagine she's from a family like ours. A dead alcoholic father and an in-and-out of prison meth dealer for a mother.

Then there was me, the high school dropout who works two jobs to keep custody of her sibling and needs government assistance to keep food on the table.

With a family track record like that, Val is fortunate for her brain. It's gonna get her out of this tiny backwoods, drug-addled swamp town.

"Not the point, Beth," Valerie groaned, clutching her stomach, leg bouncing, "I may have a couple college offers but I have to keep my grades up to qualify for a full ride."

I eyed her when we stopped at a light, leg still bouncing but now she was rubbing at her stomach. I reached into the center console and pulled out a box of antacids I kept on hand for Val's high anxiety days, tossing them over to her. She ripped the package open with a muttered thanks.

We pull up to the school and Val swings the door open the second I stopped the car. "Call me if that gets worse, okay? I don't want you getting sick." With luck she was just having some acid reflux and not getting ready for an all out panic attack. "Or develop an ulcer, with the way you worry."

"Yeah, sure," Val rolled her eyes, then smiled, "have fun at work. Make sure you thank Noah for the -"

"Okay, yeah, bye. Have a good day!" I interrupted, seeing Shirley Elder's eyebrow raised from where she stood watching the drop off area. Avoiding the vulturous town gossip I started inching the car along, prompting Valerie to cackle and push the door shut.

I swear I see Shirley Elder's eyes narrow on my retreating car in my rearview as I pull out of the school lot. Fuck, I hate that woman. She's had it out for my family since my Mom slept with Mr. Elder for drug money six years ago. Right before Ma was caught up in the meth lab the law found just outside the French Quarter and sent to prison for the last time. A life sentence.

The woman hand earned that life sentence. The thought of Ma had me grinding my teeth and tapping my thumbs on the wheel as I drove the twisty road that led towards the city of New Orleans. She'd ruined my life. Not that I minded ensuring Valerie lived a good one- safe and mostly worry free, not at all. Just… well; I'd dropped out at eighteen and struggled ever since.

"I hate this road," I mumble, slowing down to about twenty miles per hour to take the dead man's turn.

The locals have called it dead man's turn since before my parent's time; not original but at least two people would die driving this every year and I was determined not to be one of them. It was a ninety degree angle around a rocky hill with a seventy foot drop on the other side.

To make matters worse a small section of the road had corroded away a couple years back and nobody got around to fixing it. The road in this area was basically a one lane open to two lanes of traffic.

Anxiety ebbed away as I made the turn safely. I let out a breath and picked up speed.

Several seconds later something blurred in front of my car. I didn't have any time to brake before the whole vehicle jolted and I hit some guy that came stumbling out of the woods.

I threw the car in park, pushed the hazards on and nearly fell over myself trying to get out of the car. I ran around to the front, heart beating frantically.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead," I chanted, glancing around when I didn't see the man sprawled out bleeding anywhere. I stopped short. "What the fuck?"

My bumper was smashed, some blood was dripping off the grill but no man in sight.

"Sir?" I called out. Careful to check for oncoming traffic and listen for a car coming around the curve, I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked to the other side of the road.

Steeling myself with a couple deep breaths, I leaned over to check the drop. It was a long way down, he wouldn't survive if I hit him and he flew over the guardrail just to plummet down. "Sir?" I repeated.

There was nothing there, no movement, no noise. Just leaves that had fallen as we entered October and trees - a lot of fucking trees.

A whispered voice in the wind; "Found you."

I jumped and whirled around. "Sir? Hello, are you alright?"

This is how horror movies start, isn't it? I'm just a sitting duck waiting to get fucking murked by a guy in a mask with a knife or something.

An old truck came sputtering around the turn and slowed to a stop. Mr. Hoskins, the old man that'd owned the general store for decades. Gave me a discount on food a time or two when I first got custody of Valerie after Ma's sentencing. A kinder man you couldn't find if you tried, I'm probably related to him distantly.

That's the way of it in small town Louisiana.

He rolled his window down, white hair perfectly styled like a man born in another time and glanced at my car then at me.

He ran a hand over his beard. "Y'alright, Miss Bethany? Need me to call the law?"

"I don't know sir, probably? I gotta call Marge and tell her I'll be late to work but we're not close enough to the city for service." I rubbed at my arm, feeling scrutinized. I was gonna be sore when the adrenaline wore off. "I thought I hit a person but I don't see anyone, not even down the hill. And there's blood on the grill?"

"Mighta been a huge wild turkey. I'll hook ya up to my truck and take you to Gail Henley's shop. Looks like you'll be needing work done on the car." The elderly man shifted gears and tilted his head pointedly, telling me to get in the truck.

No wild turkey can get tall enough to be mistaken for a man, but I let that drop. I opened the ancient truck door, the sound of metal squealing was a little cathartic as I swung into the truck. Mr. Hoskins pulled ahead of my car and backed up a bit. "Should I call anyway, just in case?"

"I'd say so, when you get to Gail's. Call the old crone first, though, I've known her all my life and that woman is not one to leave in the dark." The gruff way he said it had me cracking a small smile, despite how my legs had started to tremble. "Stay put, honey bee, I'll hook the car and we'll getcha going."

Mr. Hoskins jumped out of the truck and grabbed the hooks out of the back of his truck like he's done this hundreds of times. He made pretty quick work of hooking my car up. I glanced around once more before he came back, just another glance to be sure.

Another whisper on the wind caused the hairs on my arms to raise. A ghost of a touch dragged down my arm from where it rested on the window and I yanked it back, heart hammering in my chest.

I looked back to the spot, spooked out of my mind, and still saw nothing.

Hauling a car into a little town like this was probably illegal, but in a place like Blackwood Hills with a population of 4200 people, the police won't bother with something this small. Especially not when it's someone as well loved as Mr. Hoskins.

Mr. Hoskins dropped me off and headed back towards his store, asking only for me to let him know if I needed anything else later on, or to send the Sheriff his way if needed.

I got off the phone with my boss, Marge, just as Gail Henley let out a low whistle and raised an eyebrow in my direction. "You sure hit sometin' alright, still driveable though."

Heaving a sigh of relief I gave her a grateful smile. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, seriously. I really don't have the insurance coverage for a rental, let alone the money."

Giving me an understanding nod, she continued. "This is gonna cost, little miss. I'll give you a discount on the labor, and help ya by setting up a payment option like we did for that starter last year, alright? We'll take care of ya." She patted my shoulder affectionately. Gail was good friends with my Dad, before Dad became good friends with the bottle. "Let me get in on my computer and make some calls. See what I can find. I'd say on the high end it'll be a good two to three thousand."

I grimaced and nodded. "Thanks, Miss. Henley." Two or three grand I can just pull out of my ass, I guess.

"Like I said, you can drive it. Just don't make no trips to the city until we get her right as rain, alright?"

"Yes ma'am," I nodded and tried not to grit my teeth. I had a gig in the quarter coming up this weekend and I really needed the money to get a couple extra groceries and the water bill taken care of. We were behind two months and old Miss Leanne down at the water plant gave me an extension because I was so pathetic when I begged for it.

No amount of pride couldn't be sacrificed as long as Val had clean water to drink at home.

Gail disappeared into her office and I pulled open the ancient, screeching door to the old boat and dropped myself into the driver's side, banging my head against the wheel. Fucking ridiculous. The town should've scraped some kind of money out of their corrupt accounts to find a way to expand that turn. The mountain could be blasted into with dynamite. Shut it down a couple days, blow that bitch up, level it out and call it good. Dumb fucking redneck assh-

"I've got good news sugar," Gail appeared right next to me and I jumped, she laughed, "it's only gonna cost ya thirteen hundred. I ordered the parts, it'll be in by Thursday. I'll getcha fixed up by Saturday afternoon, sound good?"

"Gail, if your wife wouldn't kill me for it I would kiss you." I breathed, holding my hand out for her to shake. "You're the best."

"Remember that when I come callin for your grandma's sweet potato pie recipe you hold so dear." Gail pointed at me with a false stink eye as I laughed, she smiled and took my hand. "Now go on, get outta here before ol' Marge comes at me with a rollin' pin for keeping ya."

As Gail disappeared into her office again, I felt something prickle at the back of my awareness. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood, chills ran down my spine.

"Yeah, not addressing that." I said under my breath and shoved the keys into the ignition and fired up the boat. "Not gonna fuck with that."

Now that I was in town it didn't take long to get to Blackwood's Bistro. I pulled around back into the designated parking for employees and threw it in park, grabbing a dirty apron from the back. I didn't bother locking the car, nobody wanted that piece of scrap metal, as I darted into the back door of the shop.

Marge was a stocky two hundred and fifty pounds of pure southern temper and cheap red lipstick stuck to her decaying teeth. The second she saw me she put one hand on her hip and raised her impossibly arched brow. "Well now look what the cat dragged in."

"Sorry," I mumbled, barely sorry at all. But I had to act like it because I couldn't lose this job and keep Val out of the state's custody.

Marge pursed her lips. "Not a good first impression on your new bosses."

"What? You said you'd never sell - no price was high enough." I asked with a confused frown, tossing my keys onto the table designated for employees and wrapping my apron around me . I was working to tie it shut as I finally noticed the shiny black dress shoes that stood off to my right.

"Evidently there was a price." The shiny shoe'd person spoke just as I got my apron tied on. I looked up and shoved my hand out before I really registered what was happening.

"Guess so, well good morning, sorry about being a whole mess today. I'm-"

"Bethany Graves."

I took his hand and my brain finally caught up with what was going on and that I was now shaking the hand of my brand new fancy clothed boss who was honestly the best looking man I'd probably seen in my entire life. The fact that he had a voice like honey and wine notwithstanding, I was doing my best not to melt under his gorgeous brown eyed scrutiny.

Suddenly I registered that I'd parked next to a Lincoln. Must belong to this super hot rich guy.

And I parked my hunk of junk next to his and came in an hour and a half late to work.

Not a good first impression indeed. Thanks for the fucking warning, Marge. "And the name of my new boss?" I ask as though I'm not having a huge internal crisis.

His austere expression cracked into a soft smile. "I'm Elijah. Elijah Mikaelson."

...More about why Elijah now owns a bistro in chapter two. Let me know what you think.