ACT ONE. BLOOD MOON

season 1

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one. the beginning of the end

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BEFORE THE ACCIDENT, IF SOMEONE asked Elena what her greatest fear was, she would've said ducks. A strange fear, she knows, but ever since she was a child, they've sent a bolt of terror straight to her heart and had her barrelling into her father's legs, screaming for him to chase the evil birds away.

It's not a normal fear, Elena knows. Maybe she should've been afraid of spiders, but she merely scoops them up in her hand without blinking and deposits them outside, gently coaxing them to scurry away. Maybe she should've been afraid of snakes, but when her sixth grade class went on a trip to the zoo, they'd had to bribe her away from the reptilian house with the promise of ice cream. But when they went to the gift shop at the end of the trip, she'd spent all her money on a snake stuffie, admiring the verdant sheen of his scales, but it was a poor recreation of the real thing.

( The wild things are drawn to her in a way she could never explain. )

After the accident, if someone asked Elena what her greatest fear was, she would still say ducks, because she can never tell the truth. Because it's water.

Water with its roar as it bashes against the window so fiercely it cracks the glass, so black she can barely see in front of her and so heavy, there is no room for air as it tears down her throat and infects her blood and bone and veins.

In the immediate aftermath of the accident, after she'd been cleared by the hospital and after she shed her tears for her parents' funeral, she would return home and stew in the dirt and filth of her own body simply because she couldn't handle the feel of water against her skin.

The first time she took a shower was a month after the accident and Jeremy had to hold her as she cried.

Elena thinks something inside her died in the water too; that not all of her came back to life, not all of her managed to claw itself out of the car and to the riverbank. She tries to tell herself that she's wrong, that she's fine, that she's reborn as she smiles at herself in the mirror, but she can't deny the hole inside her chest, the hole in which her parents were carved out of, but their claw marks remain.

She feels like a dead girl walking as she treks through the halls of Mystic Falls High, Bonnie beside her and chattering away like nothing's changed ( but everything has ) and feels like she's walking in shoes too tight to fit her.

But then she collides with Stefan Salvatore and everything seems to fit together perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle.

Elena doesn't know his name at that point, but she didn't really need to, not when they clash and Elena's heart skips a beat, time stopping for a moment then restarting again and she is struck with the sensation that the world she was in before meeting him is not the same as the one after him.

She doesn't see how it can be the same—not with how simply and purely divine he is. He's all gold: golden hair, golden skin, a Greek tragedy carved into flesh, something Eurydice-dappled and Orpheus-mottled imprinted into his soul and bone that knocks Elena breathless.

Full, heavenly lips curl into a polite smile. "Excuse me."

"Y-Yeah, sorry," Elena replies after a moment's pause, tongue heavy and useless in her mouth, such a stark contrast to the hellfire she rained upon Jeremy only a minute before—has it really been a minute? It feels like an age—and steps aside to allow Stefan passage. The door swings shut behind him, cutting off the pristine sight of him, but it's far too late. He's already burnt into her consciousness.

( In another life, they would've been perfect; a rusted lock and gleaming key finally finding each other and sliding together in harmony. But this is not that life.

Not that she knows it. )

They have history together. Elena finds herself helpless to how her gaze keeps ducking to him periodically throughout the lesson. He never looks at her, his green stare pinned to Tanner and his mind-numbing lecture with polite indifference, but that doesn't matter.

She's a greedy thief, stealing long, full looks at Stefan, but it never seems to satiate her hunger because she keeps on coming back for more. She knows she should stop, but she simply can't, and she begins to wonder if this is why Jeremy depends on drugs as much as he does—they must be rapturous if they are anything like the sight of Stefan.

Later, Bonnie will tell her that Matt was staring at Elena the entire lesson, but she was far too caught with the feeling of being alive that she had failed to notice the hot knife of betrayal sinking into her back.

( In another life, the blood of backstabbers ran thick and heavy through her veins. It would make sense that she would be numb to their knives. )

CAROLINE FORBES WAS BORN KNOWING that she would die. If anyone asked, and she was truthful, she would say it's the first thing she ever knew. Before she knew how to breathe, before she knew how to move her limbs, and before she knew her mother, she knew she was born to die.

It was only as she grew older that Caroline realised that this wasn't a universal facet of knowledge, but merely an undeniable truth that would only be applicable to her. Still, she never gave it much thought, accepted it as a fact about herself, like how she had blonde hair and blue eyes, that she was forever second-best, and carried on.

She had more important things to worry about, anyway.

( But she never forgets. It was a destiny, a tragedy, forged a thousand years ago and been ten centuries in the waiting. )

She focuses on other things, like curling her hair just right, and making sure that nobody ever finds out how bad the fighting gets at home, and proving everyone wrong. It's a certain viciousness, a certain determination that's as engrained in her as her genes and it wreaks havoc in the quiet town of Mystic Falls.

It births a rigorous study schedule so she can rub that A* in Biology in Tyler Lockwood's smug fucking face and wrangling any babysitting jobs she can get her hands on so her own clothes that are much better than Hannah Morris', as much as the spoilt brat thinks otherwise.

Caroline Forbes is to be feared.

She is all teeth and claw and fang, raging against the sound of her high-pitched laugh and the sight of her honey-blonde hair and the thoughts they inspire: oh, she's just another ditzy blonde girl, oh, she's not a threat.

But, she is.

She is a beast with a certain precision in how she strikes that rent open arteries wide and bleeding and with the blood decorating her manicured hands, she delights in her massacres.

Then comes Stefan Salvatore.

Unlike her, he is all tenderness and gentleness and cotton. If he has claws, he hides them well, what with his burning, yet soft, gaze as he meets her stare across the English classroom.

She'd been looking for fresh meat, new prey to sink her talons into, but this time the lamb seems to bear its neck willfully, eagerly, to the lion. At first, Caroline's unsure what to make of it and then ( fate whispers in her ears ) she sits down beside him.

They commandeer the back right corner of the classroom, right by the window and as the sunlight streams into the room, Stefan seems to ignite. What was once a rusted bronze is now gleaming golden and Caroline gasps because she thinks she's seeing an angel—

Stefan's eyes duck to Caroline and she instantly looks away, bashful in a way she's never quite felt before. But, Caroline is greedy and her heart yearns for more and she finds herself stealing not-so-subtle glances at Stefan, Ms. Green having to cough sharply multiple times to reclaim Caroline's attention.

She's not guilty. Stefan Salvatore is worth breaking the rules for.

They don't speak one word to one another the entire lesson, but somehow, Caroline feels they lived through entire lifetimes confined in that small classroom, that something more than just looks were shared ( that their souls had lifted from their bodies and twined together, hanging in the air and when they returned to their bodies, they came back bound and twisted ).

The shrill, sharp sound of the bell rings out and Caroline shoves her books back into her bag, takes a moment to rifle through her possessions and subtly fix her hair in the mirror before she snaps it shut and rises to her feet.

The bubble of joy that had shrouded her abruptly pops as she fails to find Stefan amidst the flood of students fleeing the cloying scent of paper and ink and essays. Caroline rolls her shoulders back once more and holds her head up high as she exits the classroom.

And opposite the door, reclined against the lockers, is Stefan, his head bowed and his shoulders falling into him like he could protect himself from the world itself. He must sense her gaze as his eyes snap up and as his stare lands on Caroline, he smiles and fucking hell, if it's not the most beautiful thing Caroline's ever seen.

She smiles back. "Hello."

His grin curls into something bashful and awed and excited. "Hi."

And so this is where it begins.

( The end, I mean. )

THERE'S A RAVEN STARING AT her. Caroline meets its eyes across the grass and the greenery and she knows, even though she can't quite see them, that they are electric-blue and ice-cold. She shudders and distantly, some part of her tells her to look away, but she just can't. There's something magnetic in the gaze of this too-alive raven ( and she's always been drawn to the dangerous things ).

"Care? Hey, Caroline!"

Caroline flinches and blinks. The raven is gone now.

She turns her attention back to a furrow-browed Bonnie, who frowns at her. "You okay? You just zoned out on me."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just my eyes playing tricks on me. Um, what were we talking about?"

Bonnie cuts Caroline a flat stare. "Jesus, Care, haven't you been listening to me at all? Elena's got a new crush."

Caroline's jaw unhinges. "She does? But it's only been a couple months since she broke up with Matt!" And since her parents died, goes unsaid.

Bonnie nods and her eyes glimmer with excitement. "Yeah. I could hardly believe it myself either. She couldn't stop staring at him all through history. I'm surprised Tanner didn't catch her. She wasn't being subtle about it."

Some knot in Caroline's chest eases. Finally, after months, after so many tears and blackness and tissues, finally, things are going right.

Caroline squeals. "This is amazing! Oh God, I have to introduce you to Stefan—"

Bonnie's expression shutters. "Stefan? Stefan Salvatore?"

"Yeah," Caroline replies and even though her smile doesn't die, something awful and foreboding gurgles in her gut, "The new boy? He's so pretty, it should be illegal. But, anyway, I invited him to the Grill tonight, so if we get Elena to invite her crush over too, it could kinda be like a double date? Triple date?"

Bonnie's lips press together thinly. "I dunno, Care. I don't think that's the best idea—"

"Oh, c'mon, Bon. We need this. After everything that's happened, we deserve to have a night out with our new boy toys. C'mon, what d'ya say?"

Caroline perfected the wide-eyed, puppy-soft gaze years ago for moments like these. As steel-cut and iron-twined as Bonnie is, even she is vulnerable to Caroline's gaze.

"Fine," Bonnie groans and Caroline grins in triumph, "Fine. What time? I'll text Elena."

"At five. First round's on me."

"You've got yourself a deal."

IF STEFAN KNEW THAT ELENA Gilbert would be the key to unlocking true happiness, he would've sought her out a long, long time ago. As it is, he runs across her in the midst of the night, when the moon hung heavy and full and the stars pierced the velvet blanket of darkness and the water was pulling her down into the heady arms of death.

She's like a fragile doll in his arms as he scoops her into his embrace and drags her out of the river, leaving her parents to succumb to the black beneath of the pond. Regret, that heavy sense of I should've done this, stings at Stefan's slow, undead heart but he focuses on saving the one member of the Gilbert family he can.

He's gentle as can be when he presses down on her heart, black pondwater frothing at her mouth like poison as she hacks it up in her half-dead state of mind. He briefly debates opening a vein, wonders if the animal blood diluting him would be able to yank her far enough away from the claws of eternal sleep, but then there's the wail of sirens and the harsh blare of lights and Stefan skitters away into the trees.

He visits her in the hospital later that week and while she was fragile in his arms that night, tucked into the hospital bed and riddled with needles like a pincushion, she looks more porcelain. Like one graze of the finger would have her shattering into fine pieces that would be crushed into dust and never to be fixed.

In her place, he mourns for her. He mourns the life this teenage girl should've had but never will, grieves the innocence she will likely forget to and squeezes a delicate finger in a silent, invisible show of support and understanding and hope.

He steps out of the hospital and sees his doom.

His mouth dries up, his eyes go wide and the monster in his bones falls silent. Every single cell, the undead and the dead, are keyed onto the girl at the end of the hallway, hair bound in a ragged ponytail, skin covered by oversized clothes that stink with premature grief and her angelic, blessed face is streaked with tears.

Abruptly, Stefan is plunged back into 1864 and can almost taste the sensation of having his whole life ahead of him, just grazing his fingers. But it was never as exquisite as carding his fingers through her hair.

In one moment and the next, Stefan is gone. He hides away in the Boarding House for the rest of the day, reeling from the sight of her. Yet, it's not her, but it has to be because Stefan would know that mouth anyway, could never forget the shine of those locks, could never peel the memory of those blue eyes from his consciousness.

Two days later, when his gums are aching and fangs are craving, Stefan creeps out of the House to feed his hunger with watery animal blood and rushes off to see her again. He just has to check—just one more time to see if he's really not going insane.

( He wouldn't be surprised if he was. Love does strange things to you. )

He sees her again, still weighed down by sorrow so acute no girl should know this young, but she bears it well. He gets close enough to inhale the scent of humanity and life and sunshine before he whisks away again.

Stefan was convinced he would leave after he checked to ensure that it wasn't really her.

Stefan is a liar.

Every day he tells himself it's the last day. It's simply the next. Stefan whiles away the summer surveying Caroline Forbes—her name, he learns, and oh, what a name it is—and Stefan is too far gone to turn away now.

Before he knows it, he's enrolling in Mystic Falls High.

But, for the first time, Caroline's skydrop gaze sees him and every bad thing he's done, every throat he's ripped open, every girl he's made scream—that's all okay, because Caroline is looking at him and Stefan's never felt more alive.

She smiles at him next and Stefan would die a happy man the next second because he's done it. He's made it. Every point in his life has led to this: Caroline Forbes smiling at him like he's a goddamned miracle and that's all he needs.

She invites him to the Grill later that night and oh, he'd be a fool to say no, so he says yes and history is made.

( History was made when a girl and a boy fell in love. But that's a story that's been told a thousand times before. )

The Grill is loud with blood and pulse. It threatens, pricks, and pulls at Stefan's control, the bloodlust surging up the muscle of his throat with a fiery vengeance that imprints the memory of drained corpses behind Stefan's eyelids.

The sight of Caroline's golden curls is enough to burn away the sight.

( The sight of her has always been enough to tame the beast inside, no matter which she name she bears. )

Stefan and Bonnie meet and there's something piercing and shrewd and otherworldly in her eyes. She looks at him like she knows things, and Stefan breathes in her earthy scent with a petrichor tinge and there's an undercurrent of sourness, of an unripe fruit ready to bloom. He resolves to keep an eye on the fledgeling witch.

Caroline drags Stefan to a corner of the Grill and they curl into each other like Ourobourous, their own little world collapsing into each other. They lean closer and closer, skin brushing and eyes colliding and this must be love, because he's only felt like this once before.

Stefan craves things with Caroline and it's more than just the lust for her blood—it's to walk through the school halls with her and cradle her to sleep and to show her the wonders of the world and hand immortality to her on a silver platter.

It's brushing her lips with his.

But he holds back. He has all the time in the world.

( What pretty lies. )

ELENA GILBERT WAS MADE TO love. She's built for it—her heart born so big it can contain so many people at once, sometimes she thinks it might burst, but always, always, she manages to fit just one more person in. And then another and another and another because if there's one thing she's greedy for, it's love.

( It's a craving that goes back generations. )

Perhaps it's why it hurt so much when her parents died; she was made for love, not loss.

But then Stefan Salvatore crashes into her life and Elena is just gone. There's no coming back from him, she's sure, because this is the first time in a long while she's ever felt so alive.

Bonnie invites her to the Grill. Caroline's idea, she says, She's got a new boy toy to torture.

Elena texts yes and even the chill of the night is not enough to dull the fire now burning inside her, her mind surveying the image of Stefan Salvatore, skipping briefly to the words she'd scribbled ecstatically in her diary before she tucked it away in her room.

The world is different. She can taste it in the air, on her tongue.

The alcohol clogs up the atmosphere as she steps into the Grill, the air burdened with the vitality of teenagers who haven't yet learnt to rein in their youth before it burns out. It doesn't take her long to find Bonnie, but she also finds Matt too.

Ah, sweet, simple Matt Donovan.

Perfect first love material, but not much else.

It makes Elena want to cry sometimes, because Matt is perfect, perfect in ways that Elena just can't match. He's too simple, unlike her jagged complexity, too sweet, unlike her sour spite that simmers in her veins, too bright, unlike her heart of a dying star that collapses unto itself.

Matt Donovan was good, but loving him left an awful aftertaste in her mouth.

Elena would always love him, adore him, treasure him, and maybe in another life, they could've toughed it out another couple of years, fooling themselves that young love was meant to last before they eventually accepted that their love was meant to end and that youth was meant to grow old.

Bonnie's dark eyes collide with Elena's and she smiles and waves Elena over. The brunette approaches, but hesitates as Matt's gaze finds hers and his eyes ignite memories of lazy summer nights and sloppy kisses at sunset. Matt jumps sharply out of his seat and emotions flit swiftly over his face with the violence of a knife and Elena's rusted heart twists at the fact that he is no longer an open book for her to read.

"Hi, Matt," Elena says weakly.

"Hi, Elena," Matt replies and he hesitates, mouth opening and tongue curling like he's going to say something more, that he's got a whole confession written out and revised and memorised to be laid at her feet. If he did, he never says it.

Matt walks off after muttering goodbye to Bonnie and Elena watches him go with a fragment of left-over love that was more than just friendship. Bonnie's hand sliding around her wrist and tugging her into the seat breaks Elena out of her trance.

"So, about your new crush," Bonnie says and Elena smiles automatically, the butterflies pricking at the underside of her skin as her mouth opens but Bonnie cuts her off, "No, Elena, wait. He's over there . . . with Caroline."

It takes Elena a moment to process Bonnie's words, because she says them like they mean the difference between love and grief. Elena's head turns towards Caroline and Stefan tucked away in the corner and those few short moments between looking at Bonnie and looking at Caroline feels like the clock ticking towards doomsday.

And all at once, Elena understands what Bonnie means. It's not Stefan and Caroline. It's Stefan and Caroline.

Oh.

( In the silence, a heart breaks. )

Caroline is smiling and laughing and she looks freer than Elena's ever seen her. Stefan too, is alive, seeming to sparkle under the dim lighting of the Grill with a holy sheen. They curl into each other like they fit together.

They look like they're in love.

Look at me, look at me, look at me, Elena's young, cracked heart screams into the void, smile at me, smile at me, smile at me.

Stefan is deaf to her cries, his attention firmly rooted onto an animated Caroline and her sunlight-starlight grace and air.

Elena finds herself dizzy. This was not how it was meant to go. It disgusts her to admit this, but she is so, so used to being the one boys look at, boys smile at, boys choose.

( Caroline is always second-best and she would be a liar if she said she never noticed. )

Now, Elena's thrown to the sidelines and it pours a certain kind of pain through her veins when she realises only a moment later that she was never a part of the competition. It was always Caroline.

And it should be Caroline. Caroline deserves this.

( Elena just wishes it wasn't at her own expense. )

BONNIE BENNETT IS MANY THINGS. A daughter, a mischief-maker, an heiress to a legacy she has yet to discover—abandoned.

But perhaps most of all, Bonnie Bennett is a friend, and when she spies Elena standing before the raging bonfire, the light of the flames dancing over the lines of her gaunt face, she's moving before she even realises what she's doing.

"Hey," Bonnie says and her eyes are sharp as they survey how Elena flinches just so, the numbed look on her face swiftly switching to a smile, scooping up Bonnie's proffered cup of cheap beer, "Are you okay?"

Are you okay that Stefan's in love with Caroline? Are you okay that your heart is broken?

Elena's eyes roll and her shields come up. "I'm fine, Bon. Seriously. You can stop worrying."

Bonnie's lips twist and tries to disguise the sympathy that is pouring off in her waves—sympathy that would incite Elena's claws that she hides well. "If you say so. Have you seen Care? I lost her a couple minutes ago."

Risky question, but it has to be said. It's old instincts to know where her friends ( sisters ) are at all times, to know and protect and defend. But she also hopes that it may push Elena to reveal something more than I'm fine.

"Probably with Stefan." Elena's voice is steady, her eyes once again drifting to the bonfire as she sips from her drink. "He's obsessed with her."

Blank, cool, firm. No hint of heartbreak, envy, bitterness.

It's like Elena doesn't care, but Bonnie's been friends with her for long enough now to know how much of a good liar she is.

"Well, Care's taste in men seems to have improved," Bonnie comments and peers at Elena critically over the rim of her red plastic cup, "Stefan seems better than the rest of her exes."

There's a fond twist to Elena's lips as her eyes glaze over with memories of Caroline sobbing into a tub of ice cream and Bonnie and Elena bent over their multiple revenge plans. Back when they didn't know better and water wasn't so black.

"Maybe. I don't know," Elena says, "But, you're the psychic one. Why don't you tell me where Care is?"

The trees start to whisper. "Wow. I forgot. Okay, so give me a sec. Grams says I have to concentrate."

"Wait. You need a crystal ball," Elena interrupts, fumbling for a beer bottle and the smile on her face knocks Bonnie breathless. It feels like four months ago, when their hearts were whole and the future was bright instead of bleak, "Ta da."

Bonnie chuckles and reaches out, hand curling around the bottle and the world tips on its axis.

It's not a memory, it's not a vision, it's not a prophecy.

It's a promise that Bonnie sees, consisting of fire and stars and time.

She gasps and stumbles back, hand falling from the glass of the bottle and instantly, that ancient thing in her blood recedes and curls back into a ball, burrowing back into its cave that it's carved in her soul. Her fear remains.

Elena notices and steps forwards slightly, concern written plainly over her features. "What?"

Bonnie swallows, tongue heavy in her mouth, weighed down by something old and great and terrible. "When I touched you . . . I saw a . . . I saw a wolf."

An echo of a howl rings in Bonnie's ears.

Even Elena seems nervous, like she can hear the howl too. "What?"

"A wolf," Bonnie repeats and chills crawl down her spine, "There was . . . I think it was a forest. And there was a wolf just standing between the trees. It's eyes . . . I'm drunk! It's the drinking. There's nothing psychic about it. Yeah? Okay, I'm gonna get a refill."

Bonnie walks away from the fire and tries to bury the secrets crawling up her throat. And to forget the wolf.

THE NIGHT IS DARK AND LOVELY and the fire burns brightly in the clearing, the flames licking at the sky like they could touch it. With a firm hand pressed to her back, Stefan leads Caroline away from the fire and into the woods and the quiet manages to fool her into believing they are locked away into their own little world.

"My mom would kill me if she knew I was walking around with you," Caroline comments, a teasing smile twisting at her lips, "I mean, you are the talk of the town."

"Am I?"

"Mmm—mysterious new guy and dark, brooding stare. Mom hates that."

Stefan chuckles and it sounds like a hymn. "Sue me, I guess. It comes with the genes."

"The mysterious Salvatore genes? I have to know more. Any siblings?"

There's a wry curl to Stefan's lips as they stroll under the fairy lights garlanding the bridge. "None that I talk to anymore, at least."

Caroline gasps. "So there are more Salvatores out there? We have to meet one day."

Stefan shakes his head. "No, not really. My brother's . . . not the best person to be around."

"What do you mean?"

Stefan stews in silence for a few heartbeats, his gaze running up and down Caroline in a way that makes her shiver. "You're sad."

The blunt observation renders Caroline speechless for a few seconds. "Sad? I'm not sad."

Stefan shrugs and it's all she needs to know that he doesn't quite believe her. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I like to think I can recognise sadness in others."

Caroline cuts him a stare. "Might wanna get your glasses checked out, then. You're due for an upgrade."

Stefan looks at Caroline like he knows—knows the truth and he also looks at her like he'll wait for her to come to him, to spill her secrets until they're pouring out of her and she'll feel lighter than she has in years.

But tonight is not that time.

Tonight is a time for new discoveries.

"What's your story?" Caroline asks and Stefan's eyes become glazed as he reminisces about a life that seems much longer than seventeen.

"Well, it's not much. I was born here in Mystic Falls, like you, but my family was military, so we moved around a lot."

Caroline giggles. "God, I could never imagine that. It would drive mom crazy in the first couple months. What about your parents?"

Stefan's smile is a sad one. "They, uh, passed away."

Guilt blooms like wildflowers in Caroline's ribcage. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry—"

"Caroline," Stefan cuts her off and the sound of her name in his mouth sounds like heaven, "It's okay, really. I wasn't close with my parents anyway."

"Still, though . . ."

"If you wanna make it up to me, maybe you can tell me your story." Stefan's green, green eyes hold a teasing glow.

Caroline's lips twist and she pretends to ponder. "Well, if it's the only way to get you to forgive me, then sure. I was born and raised here. My parents divorced when I was ten and Dad ran like hell and never looked back. Me, Elena and Bonnie have been friends since the first grade. That's it, really. Nothing interesting."

"I beg to differ," Stefan hums and it's thrilling to be caught under his gaze, "You, Caroline Forbes, are far more interesting than you give yourself credit for."

Just those words and Caroline's clinging to the edge. It won't take much to have her toppling right off the cliff and into the abyss.

With burning cheeks, Caroline's gaze ducks down and her eyes land on the lapis lazuli shining dimly in the light. In an attempt to stave off the inevitable ( it always is with these two ), she asks, "I like your ring. Where'd you get it?"

Stefan's hand moves abruptly and there's something almost guilty about it as the silver metal of the ring ducks into shadows. "Oh, it's nothing. Just an old family heirloom."

Caroline's lips pinch; she knows there's a story that Stefan's not quite willing to talk about, but she pushes down the beast inside that demands answers. It's fine.

She has all the time in the world.

"JEREMY! JEREMY. WHERE THE HELL are you going?"

The dry leaves crunch under Elena's stumbling footsteps as she treads through the dark of the forest, chasing after her wayward brother, the stench of drugs pouring off him in waves as he tumbles through the trunks. His head whips around with single-minded focus.

"I don't wanna hear it," Jeremy growls, spinning back to glare at his sister for a moment. He spins back, but his walk is cut short as he topples to the ground, colliding with something heavy.

Elena's heart freezes in her chest as Jeremy's voice rings out again, too much like the little boy that she used to protect from schoolyard bullies. "Vicki? No."

She stumbles to a stop behind her brother, mouth drying and limbs shaking as she registers the sight of Vicki Donovan, the girl who young, naive, gullible Elena once believed would be her sister-in-law. Death shrouds Vicki's face like dew and blood mars her neck.

"Oh, my God, it's Vicki."

Elena breathes out in a shuddering gasp, "Oh, my God."

( Whatever shred of innocence she once had now dies.

Such a sad sight to see. )

Jeremy, almost like he's lost in a haze, reaches out to touch Vicki's neck, shaking fingers fumbling as they slide over her skin, seeking clumsily for her pulse. At the touch of Jeremy's fingers, Vicki wakes with a harsh, violent gasp. Her lips press together, tongue curling in her mouth to say something, but the word is lost as Vicki's eyes roll back and she sinks into consciousness ( and perhaps death ).

"Vicki? Vicki! Wake up!"

The sound of Jeremy's tortured pleas pushes Elena into action, hand shooting out to grasp her brother's shoulder. At this moment, the pain of the past couple days melt away. All that loss, all that heartbreak, and teenage angst disappears, drowned under the wave of adrenaline.

"Jeremy, c'mon. You need to pick her up—we need to get an ambulance."

Jeremy nods, eyes wide and frightened and his face a stark white under the light of the moon as he scoops Vicki into his arms and climbs to legs that tremble like a newborn fawn.

"Somebody help!" Elena shrieks through the night, "Help!"

As soon as they step into the clearing, the party stops, but the fire keeps burning. Everyone stares wide-eyed, disbelieving as Jeremy and Elena spill into the scene, Vicki cradled delicately in Jeremy's arms.

"Vicki? Vicki. What the hell?"

Matt's voice is as much of a balm as it is an anguish as he tears through the crowd towards his twin sister, standing over her like some too-young guardian angel.

"What happened?"

"Call an ambulance!" Matt barks, ignoring Tyler as Vicki is deposited gently onto a bench, her lifeblood dribbling onto the worn wood.

"Everybody back up. Give her space!"

Elena's deaf to it all, eyes riveted on Vicki and there's water roaring in her ears. She ignores it—she has to. It's the only way she survives.

Her hands grapple onto Vicki's head, yanking at her hair to reveal the wound torn into the soft flesh of her neck. "Something bit her. She's losing a lot of blood."

"Vicki. Vicki, c'mon, open your eyes. Look at me." She doesn't think she's ever heard Matt so devastated, so desperate. Not even she ripped his heart to pieces like this.

CORVUS. HE'S REMINDED OF THE word as the crow caws and flies into his room, perching on a plank of wood like it's home. His mouth dries.

He turns, looking out of the window and into the night. Into the eyes of the devil himself.

"Damon."

The devil smiles. "Hello, brother."

Stefan swallows, mind racing, heart thundering. "Crow's a bit much, don't you think?"

Damon snorts and steps into the room. Stefan doesn't want to think about how his brother managed to get invited in. "Wait till you see what I can do with the fog."

Stefan knows exactly what Damon did with the fog. Tore out a girl's throat with it. Damon's always had a thing for the theatrics. It's one of the only things that has stayed consistent with his elder brother throughout the past century and a half. One of the only things he recognises in his older brother that he would've done anything for—that would've done anything for his little brother.

"When you'd get here?"

Damon wanders around the room, treading over the floor like he owns it. "Well, I couldn't miss your first day of school. Your hair's different. I like it."

It's a compliment, but somehow, Damon makes it seem like an insult.

"It's been fifteen years, Damon."

"Thank God. I couldn't take another day of the nineties. That horrible grunge look? Did not suit you. Remember, Stefan, it's important to stay away from fads."

"Why are you here?" Stefan demands and his instincts—damned, monstrous instincts—bay for blood and death and carnage. All for her.

Damon turns and Stefan doesn't like the conniving look on his face. "I missed my little brother."

"You hate small towns," Stefan argues, "It's boring. There's nothing for you to do."

Damon scoffs, "I've managed to keep myself busy."

"Y'know, you left that girl alive tonight. That's very clumsy of you."

Damon sucks air between his teeth. "That could be a problem . . . for you."

"Why are you here now?"

"I could ask you the same question. However, I'm fairly certain your answer can be summed up all into one little word: Caroline."

Damon says her name and Stefan snarls, the veins wriggling under his skin and his eyes blackening, fangs gleaming under the lights. His own personal monster roars in the cavern of his chest, bound to golden locks and a sunny smile.

( Bound by blood and forces as arcane than the stars. )

Damon giggles. "As soon as I saw her, I knew exactly who you were here for. You're very predictable, little brother. I'd work on that if I were you."

"Stay away from Caroline."

Damon doesn't even blink. "She took my breath away. Caroline, I mean. She's a dead ringer for Dorothy . . . is it working, Stefan? Being around Caroline? Being in her world? Does it make you feel alive?"

"She's not Dorothy," Stefan snarls.

"Well, let's hope not. We both know how that ends." In love gone wrong and poisoned blood and chains and whips and death. "Tell me something: when's the last time you had something stronger than a squirrel?"

Stefan scoffs and tries to pretend his gums don't hurt at even the mention of human blood. "I know what you're doing, Damon. It's not gonna work."

Stefan tries to move away, to end this conversation before it goes too far, but Damon grabs his arm and yanks him right back. Twists the knife in deeper. "Yeah? Don't you crave a little?"

"Stop it."

A shove. Too much like when they were boys and yet not enough. "Let's do it—together. I saw a couple girls out there. Or just—let's just cut to the chase. Let's just go straight for Caroline."

Stefan shoves back this time, his fangs piercing the skin of his lip as they shoot free, baying for blood and death all in the name of a golden-haired girl. "Stop it!"

"Imagine what her blood tastes like. I can."

Too much. "I said stop!"

Stefan flies at Damon and they both go vaulting out of the room, tumbling out of the window and into the courtyard below it. Stefan rolls and takes the aches and pains that come with flying out of the second story, snarling and hands clawing for Damon. Who's no longer there.

"I was impressed." Stefan's head snaps to Damon, who reclines against the bushes with his arms crossed and wearing a smug smirk. "I give it a six. You missed on style, but I was pleasantly surprised."

Stefan snarls and Damon scoffs. "Very good with that whole face thing. Seriously, really sells it."

Stefan lunges.

And misses. As violent as the beast inside is, it's watered down by a diet of animal blood and is no match for the scorching human blood that pounds through Damon's veins. Too quick for a normal human to register, Damon grabs Stefan by the scruff of his jacket and sends him flying across the courtyard.

Stefan skids across the cobblestones with a groan, but before he can recuperate, Damon pins him down, growling into Stefan's face with a visage more monstrous than Stefan could ever hope to achieve.

"You should know better to think you're stronger than me. You lost that fight when you stopped feeding on people. I wouldn't try it again."

Then, the monster disappears, receding from Damon's flesh and he leaps to his feet, easy, cruel smile twisting at his lips. "So long, brother. I have a feeling that I'll be sticking around. Can't wait to meet that girl of yours."

hi.

so i reread my entire work and i realised i didn't like what i was doing, so i decided to scrap it and rewrite it. the first three chapters are already uploaded on ao3 and im planning to stick to a schedule of one chapter every one to two weeks, but i make no promises as i have a very busy schedule so we'll see what happens.

im currently editing the next 2 chapters so i'm hoping to have them up in the next couple days.

enjoy :)