Author's note: to make it short, I honestly planned to finish the story during this horrible never-ending hellatus. My muse decided it was a bad idea, however. Also, chapter 15 was supposed to be the last one, but when I reached 9K words and was only around the middle of what I planned to write, it became clear that it wasn't working :) Sorry, guys, you will have to bear with me for a little while longer :)

Thanks again for your patience, understanding and interest, they are really appreciated :)

Hope everyone is excited about the return of the show this week!


Chapter 15

"What?" Elena stiffened. It wasn't like she didn't hear or understand him. No, it was more like she didn't want to believe it, hoping with all her will that it was some sort of a very big mistake. Also, she wished she wasn't that good at reading the faces too, so that there could be this tiny possibility.

"She should've been back long before you had to leave," Alaric said, obviously fighting hard to hold his panic at bay and keep thinking past it. He picked up his phone from the table, found Jenna's number and hit the dial button – all within one second, and yet feeling that the time couldn't crawl any slower. Looked up at Elena then, "Did you try calling her?"

"Yes, sure, but her phone goes straight to the voicemail." She gave her own phone a helpless look. "I was sure she was with you, and didn't think it was a big deal. I mean she's been staying over a lot lately, and I…"

"Damn it!" He disconnected. "Voice mail," breathed out with a mixture of anxiety and annoyance, where anxiety was winning. Think, just think. Maybe she… stopped somewhere, got distracted. Maybe her phone is dead. Ric jerked his head up again. "Try the land line," he urged Elena, grasping at straws. "Call home."

For a moment, Elena's face lit up with hope. Yeah, she was all up for grasping at straws as well. "Right," she mumbled and pressed a combination of numbers hastily, and then all but held her breath listening to the rings of the other end of the line, thinking that her heart might be thudding loud enough for her to miss Jenna picking up. Because she had to pick up, right? Except that… except that she didn't. Elena's shoulders slugged in defeat after a few seconds and she let out a long breath. "It switched to the answering machine," she explained.

Bloody hell!

Alaric tried her mobile again, then tossed his phone to the table and ran his hands through his hair. Okay, stop it! Stop it before you've lost your mind!

"Do you have any idea where she could be?" He asked Elena, trying to think properly.

"I don't know—" she took a breath. "Look, for all I know, she could have left her mobile in the car and can't hear it now, or she could be in the shower. Or…" she trailed off at the sight of his So not convinced expression, his panic obviously contagious.

"Try the home number again," he asked.

She did, and then shook her head in a few painfully long seconds. "Answering machine."

"Okay," Alaric rubbed his eyes as if it could have helped to clear his mind one way or the other. Shower, phone left in the car – all of that sounded too good to be true, too safe, too… impossible. He wanted so much to believe it, if only for a second. So damn much. He locked his eyes on Elena's again. "I'll go there. And hopefully scare the hell out of her if she is indeed in the shower."

"I'll go with you," she straightened up.

"No," he started, a teacher and an adult in him rising a head to remind her that she had other classes to attend. Except that it didn't really matter, did it? Would he be able to stay behind? "Come on," he nodded curtly, grabbed his phone, and then his jacket, and opened the door for Elena.

Oh God, let it be some kind of really, really bad coincidence, he was repeating over and over again in his mind, as if saying it for a million of times was making it actually happen.

"Did Jenna say anything about her plans for today?" Elena asked as they were making their way across the school yard towards Alaric's car at the parking lot for teachers and other school staff. "Maybe she wanted to go somewhere? Do something?"

He gave the question some thorough thinking, trying to recall the events of the morning that started with Jenna stating in a muffled voice that it couldn't have been called morning if the sun wasn't even up yet. Mercifully, he let her hit the snooze once when the alarm set off, but then caught her hand when she reached out to do it for the second time.

"You're so mean," she grumbled sleepily.

"You have no idea," he whispered as he kissed her shoulder, wishing for nothing but to cuddle with her for a few more hours instead of… well, anything else.

After that Jenna had spent some time searching frantically for the pieces of her clothing on the bedroom floor, which Ric found ridiculously adorable, although he kept the comment to himself, not sure she would have appreciated the sentiment when "being so late" – her words, not his – was involved. He, however, couldn't help making a note that she'd never looked better than when she was wearing his shirts anyway. She tried to scold him – she really did – and he appreciated the effort. But then she broke into a smile when he kissed the tip of her nose, which Ric appreciated even more.

He made them both some coffee when Jenna declined his breakfast offer saying she'd grab something at home. And then they'd compensated it by kissing for ten minutes standing by her car when he walked her to it, the "being late" part put on hold for a little while.

But that was it.

"No, not that I remember," Alaric shook his head and slipped into the car. "I figured it was a school day and she had some plans at the university later, but we didn't talk about it." He fought to recall any other details. "We decided she'd call me during lunch, and that I'd come over to your place for movies and dinner tonight. Buckle up," he told Elena as he revved out of his parking spot and sped towards the Gilberts' residence.

It was the adrenaline that cleared his mind all of a sudden making Ric's senses sharpen by the second. Making him actually start thinking straight – or, well, the closest to "straight" he was capable of. Or maybe it was just the fact that the very idea of something bad happening to Jenna was just too big and too unbelievable that he simply couldn't wrap his mind around it, making it slightly less real. He didn't want to believe it, and at this point simply couldn't – if only because he'd probably go crazy if he did.

Yet, he was driving fast, probably much faster than it was allowed – that was something he couldn't help – and the tires of his car squealed against the asphalt when he hit the brakes near Elena's house. Without saying a word, both of them leaped out and rushed towards the porch. Once at the door, she fiddled briefly with the keys, her hands shaking slightly in a hurry.

"Jenna?" Elena called out as soon as they were inside. She waited for the barest of moments for a respond, and then bolted upstairs. "Jenna, are you here?"

"Jenna!" Alaric marched to the kitchen. His heart was pounding and the silence was pressing on his ears. The fear that he somehow managed to push aside on their way here clenched his stomach. He walked up to the patio door and tried it. It was locked.

Moments later, Elena scattered downstairs. She was breathing hard, her face pale and her expression telling him everything her needed to know. Needed but didn't want to, feel the difference. The house, without a doubt, was empty. Had Jenna been here, she'd come out the moment they stepped inside. The noise the two of them caused would easily wake up even someone comatose. He did shake his head all the same in respond to her silent question, his insides coiling into a knot as the truth was slowly sinking in, what with him fighting it so hard.

Elena's shoulders sagged, and Alaric could practically feel the panic building up in her and spearing slowly to pull him into its suffocating grip as well. As if his own wasn't enough.

She exhaled soundly and looked around the kitchen. "Everything is exactly the way Jer and I left it," she said as her gaze slid along the counters, taking in two coffee mugs left by the sink, the morning news-paper on the kitchen island and a bread basket that none of them bothered to cover with the lid or towel. Whatever hope she had left on the ride had started to fade rapidly. "Doesn't look like she'd been here this morning," she all but chocked out, her eyes locking on Alaric's as she searched for support and reassurance she knew he couldn't offer. "And her car wasn't in the drive way when we arrived," she added if a little belatedly.

"Oh god," Ric scrubbed his hands over his face.

It was the very situation he feared most, the one he hoped he'd never find himself in. Looking at Jenna falling apart was heartbreaking, having to chase her demons away was hard, but this… now that he didn't know what happened to her and where she was… this was a thousand times worse. Christ, she could have been anywhere, as in – anywhere! And it was just as bad as the situation could possibly get, or at least he couldn't imagine it getting any worse than that.

Well, okay, that wasn't entirely true. To be fair, his imagination was pretty vivid at the moment, maybe even to the level Ric didn't want it to be, but it still was bad. Really, really bad.

Yet, it wasn't the time to dwell on it. It had been a while already. Whatever had happened, it happened hours ago and God knew how much trouble she could have been in by now. He needed to find her. He needed to find her fast and make sure she was okay.

And to do that, he had to act.

Alaric found his phone in the pocket of his jacket, searched the phone book and hit the dial button, all under Elena's unblinking stare. She didn't say a word though, only watched him with her huge scared eyes.

"Damon," he all but breathed out with relief when the vampire picked up after the third ring. For a brief moment of panic there, he honestly feared that the phones were completely against him today. Like bad karma, only worse.

"And hello to you, too!" Damon drawled on the other end of the line. Obviously, he wanted to add something else, but Ric cut him off.

"Isobel—is she still living in that house she barged in when she'd arrived?" He asked impatiently.

"Well, yeah, as far as I—"

"Thanks," Alaric shoved the phone to Elena on, "Fill him in," before sprinting out of the house.

"Hey, wait!" She started after him but he was gone before she could blink, the door slamming loudly behind his back making the first floor windows rattle. Moments later she heard his car start, and the tires screeched again when he took off. "Great."

"Is anyone still there?" Damon demanded in annoyed voice that reached Elena's ears at some point. For a brief moment she completely forgot about still holding Alaric's phone in her hand.

"Damon," she said if a little distractedly, her glance swiping the kitchen once again before locking on the front door as she debated following Ric… somehow. "It's me."

"What the hell is going on?" He asked, all charm.

Yeah, good question, Elena thought sourly.

"It's Jenna," she said in the end, and it was enough for tense silence to settle. Her mind browsed feverishly through the options, until she remembered that she came here with Ric and that her car was still at school. After that it took her a moment to make a decision. "Can you pick me up?"


"Why are you doing this, again?" John asked, tired and annoyed by always getting vague half-answers. "You've got the device, it's going to be done at the parade. Why are you still here?"

"Do you want me gone?" Isobel wondered in mock disbelief, as if the assumption was insulting.

He knew it wasn't though. "It's not what I'm asking, and you know it." He put the glass onto the coffee table and got up. "Are you serious about getting Alaric turned?"

"You sound surprised." It was rather a statement than the question.

"It was you who left him," John said, as if she needed to be reminded of that little fact.

"I made a mistake," Isobel shrugged. "It's never too late to make it right. Forever can be lonely if you're alone, and Ric… we'd be good."

John shook his head. "Then why don't you just do it? Why don't you turn him and get it over with?"

"Because I want it to be his decision, not mine. And he'll get there, believe me. It may take time, but sooner or later he'll get there, and he will understand."

"Is that what you've been thinking these past two years?" He all but snickered.

"One of the things," she admitted. "You know what? Forever is so overrated."…

…Yes, he probably did break all traffic rules existing in Mystic Falls on his way across the town and towards the suburbs in the Western part of Mystic Falls to visit the very same house he'd already been to a while ago.

Damon explained the scheme to him once. Even the vampires liked their comfort, sometimes to a ridiculous level. Maybe it was immortality thing, Ric couldn't figure. Well, in that case, the property confiscated by banks for mortgage debts was a perfect solution. First of all, in most cases these were good, new and reasonably luxurious houses equipped with anything a person could possibly need and wish for. Second of all, finding new owner wasn't a fast and easy process. In some cases, paperwork took months, and all this time the property stayed locked and useless. And what was the most important, it was a bit too high maintenance for homeless or squatters that preferred not to get in trouble with it. Vampires, however, found it perfect.

Not that it mattered now, of course. All Alaric could think of was that if Damon was right about Isobel being involved in all of this from the start, and that if she had so much as touched Jenna… okay, he didn't know what exactly he was going to do if only because he couldn't quite think properly. It was still hard to process it, for one reason or the other. But how could she-?

How on earth could he let Jenna out of his sight with all that crap that was going on around her? Stupid, stupid, stupid! God, what was he thinking, again?

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel as stepped on the gas increasing the speed until his car was practically flying down the interstate road surrounded by fields and woods. His heart was thudding dully against his ribcage as Alaric tried to collect his thoughts together, his essence torn between overwhelming panic mixed with endless fear and growing and boiling rage at himself and whoever could try and stand in his way that very moment.

A few hours! Hell, it had been a few hours already! The thought that it might have very well been too late was pulsing through him causing an almost physical pain, and even though he knew that the helpless fear was the worst kind of fear, he couldn't help it.

His gaze sharpened as he peered intensely at the road ahead of him. If only he could go back in time and kick himself in the ass, and do it right from the start… He hated what-ifs. He hated them so much – if only because they were the most useless thoughts ever, moments in the past that no one could ever go back to and change no matter how hard they tried. After all the years that he'd spent having Isobel as his what-if person, he didn't want to ever go back to thinking about what could have been, blah, blah, blah. But there he was, wondering… what if he didn't let Jenna go? What if he insisted on driving her home? What if….

The memories flashed through his mind. Memories of hearing her laughter. Memories of Jenna cooking breakfast on his kitchen, and of them eating it from one plate sitting crossed-legged in front of each other on the floor in the living room. Memories of fooling around as if they were twelve. Memories that were a distraction and the end of him, they kept him alive and filled him with desperate fear at the same time.

Alaric remembered vaguely that it took him about twenty five minutes to get to the place of Isobel's current residence the previous time. Now it had barely been ten. The tires of his car screeched again when he skidded to a halt practically throwing himself against the dashboard. He couldn't care less though. Half a second later he untangled himself from the safety belt and was out of the car and on his way to the porch, a stake clutched in his hand so tight that he knuckles had gone white – as if this piece of wood was a part of his body.

He crossed the distance to the door in two big swift strides, a part of him ready to break it down if necessary, or claw his way in for that matter. Well, he still didn't have a plan but it wasn't important. He was breathing hard, his heart was pounding like crazy and with the adrenaline coursing through his system, or maybe because of it, Ric was sure he'd most likely be able to destroy the whole place brick by brick if he didn't have any other choice. Yet, when he wiggled the doorknob – out of habit more than actually hoping for anything – it suddenly turned, and the door opened easily.

He paused for a moment, struck by surprise. He could hear the voices coming from somewhere down the hall. It was impossible to make out the words, or even recognize people speaking – in case he knew them at all. He was too far yet, or maybe it was the rush of blood in his ears that made him somewhat deaf. That didn't matter either. He strode in that direction without so much as a second thought, which was endlessly stupid on his part, and a rational part of his mind knew it, but at the same time it was the only thing he could actually do. Mere hesitation seemed like a torturous idea.

Isobel was standing by a huge white piano when he walked in, facing someone who Alaric didn't bother to give a proper look to. She turned to the sound of his footsteps as he didn't bother to make a sneak appearance either, her face surprised.

"Ric?" Her brows went up quizzically. She looked just as calm and composed as she normally did, or at least as she did since she'd become a vampire, for all he knew, but there was a flicker of curiosity of her eyes.

He didn't give much thinking to it though. It felt like his mind shut itself off completely, and he was acting purely on instinct now. He was not a vampire, far from it, and of course he wasn't just as fast and strong as one, but boy, he was fast – for a human. And before any of them knew, Isobel was pinned to the wall with Alaric's arm across her chest holding her there and his stake aimed at her throat, and for a brief moment there he felt twisted satisfaction from knowing that she didn't see it coming. Not that he dwelled on it.

"Where is she?" He asked, somewhat surprised by how steady and firm his voice was.

"Who?" One of Isobel's brows arched elegantly.

"Jenna," he said slowly in a low dangerous voice. "Where is she?"

Her brows went higher. "Now, how would I know?" Her tone remained lazy though, even if it was obvious that her curiosity piqued.

Ric didn't seem to hear her though, if only because it wasn't the answer he wanted and needed to hear. He pressed the tip of the stake slightly deeper into her skin – not hard enough to actually hurt her or do any harm, but enough to make his point clear. He knew that running a stake through her throat wouldn't be fatal, perhaps, but he was fairly sure it would probably hurt like hell. And she knew it, too.

"What did you do to her, Isobel?"

"Hey, buddy, easy there."

Out of the corner of his eye, Alaric noted a blur of a movement to the right from him, and it took him, like, half a second to recognize the voice of John Gilbert. No big surprise here, huh? Although it was just as much as John did. His voice was cautious and half-soothing, as if he was talking to someone mentally deranged, which probably wasn't that far from the truth, but something about Ric kept him from actually coming too close or doing something else. Self-preservation, maybe.

Isobel didn't share the feeling though. "I still don't understand what you're talking about here, Ric." She didn't seem to be merely worried.

Absently, he registered the fact that the first shock was gone but to his astonishment, she didn't so much as moved even though he knew without a doubt that she could easily throw him across the room if she wanted to. She was curious after all, or she was messing with him. Either way, it made a hot-white wave of fury rise inside of him.

"I'm not up to playing your games now, Isobel," he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes searching her face as if he hoped to see if she was lying or not. It was impossible. "I want you to tell me what you did to her."

Outside, Damon hit the brakes of his car and parked it right in front of Alaric's in such way that would keep Ric blocked until he revved back – just in case he'd decide to pull the stunt again and try to escape or do something else equally stupid. Through the windshield, he regarded the house as of measuring the level of danger and other possibilities. It wasn't Isobel who left him slightly worried. It was Ric and whatever mindless crap he could come up with, and he knew there would be no shortage of it. Had it been about Elena, he'd so be there as well.

On her seat beside him, Elena watched the house too, her brows drawn together.

"Stay here," Damon told her gravelly and pinned her to the seat with his gaze.

"But—" she started to protest.

"I'm serious, Elena. I'm going to go in, find this idiot and haul him out there, it would hardly take long." Hell if he didn't mean it.

She opened her mouth again, threw another quick look at the house over her shoulder. Even reached for the seatbelt to unbuckle it for a moment. But then closed it, and sagged against the back of the seat, folding her arms on the chest and having the exact same expression she always had when she knew he was right but didn't want to accept or admit it. Satisfied, he nodded curtly and slipped out.

"I have no idea what you are talking about!" Isobel rolled her eyes, implying that the very idea was utterly ridiculous. "Why would I want to do anything with your Barbie girlfriend?"

And her matter-of-fact tone was exactly what triggered the outburst of his anger.

"Don't lie to me!" Ric yelled, slamming her into the wall.

It took Damon less than ten seconds to get to them.

"Whoa, Ric," his eyes grew wide when he took in the whole scene. For a moment, his gaze darted disinterestedly towards John but then fixed on Alaric and Isobel almost momentarily again. None of them so much as acknowledged his presence though, both a little too busy to pay attention. "You don't want to ruin this carpet do you?" Yes, that went out against his will, he couldn't help it, really. It was just too tempting.

Ric shot him the quickest of looks but that was it.

"If I wanted her dead, she'd be dead!" Isobel retorted coolly at last and pushed him away effortlessly, and he staggered, fighting to keep his balance, as he kept trying to burn her with his glare.

"My point exactly!" He snapped. "I want you to tell me the truth!"

"I am telling the truth! Like I already told you before that I have nothing to do with this mess around Jenna!"

"Why should I believe you?" Ric asked bitterly, his eyes narrowed, and his voice thick with resentment. "Ever since you came back—" He cut off. "Why did you have to come back at all?"

"I told you already," she noted meaningfully, "and this place is getting too crowded for a conversation like that, don't you think?"

"Where is she?" He repeated, barely holding himself from yelling again.

"I don't know!" She repeated for the umpteenth time. "You don't have to believe me if you don't want to. But then again, why wouldn't you?" She inclined her head slightly to her shoulder.

Ric's fist clenched, his jaw tightened. They were not getting anywhere, and he felt trapped and useless.

"If it was you—"

"Then what?" She tipped her chin and all but snickered. "What's the big deal with the girl, anyway?"

He came close to her again, without getting violent this time, even though his fingers flexed on the stake. One move, just one wrong move— His eyes traveled around her features before fixing on hers again. "I love her, Isobel," Ric said in a firm low voice. "You sure should remember what it means," the words were coated with sarcasm. "If you touched her—"

"I didn't," she cut him off. "For starters, I wouldn't bother."

Alaric ignored her completely. "If you so much as put your finger on her," he went on, "I will hunt you down and drive a stake through her heart, no questions this time." And god help him if he wasn't serious.

Thick silence hung in the air for a very long moment, none of them even moving. It was like a stare game, and whoever was to break the eye contact first would lose.

In the end, Damon stepped forward. "I think that should be our exit, Ric," he said, his voice a little too light for the situation.

Alaric didn't look his way. He gave Isobel another long glare and then marched out of the room, and then out of the house, stake clasped in hand, without so much as sparing Damon or John another glance, feeling like a total wreck and failure.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," Damon drawled following him with his gaze. "Fancy meeting you here, John," added on a beam and then left as well.

"I guess it was a no," he heard John noting in a I knew it voice behind his back, but didn't get what he'd meant.

He caught up with Ric on the porch and grabbed him by the arm making Alaric stop, his eyes piercing him like two ice daggers and his lips pursed tight.

"What the hell was that?" Damon demanded furiously.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Elena pushed her passenger door open and climbed out of the car. She didn't make a single move in their direction though, just stood there and watched them intensely, not sure what to make out of the scene.

Ric shook the vampire's hand off of his elbow and returned the glare. "Jenna is gone," he forced out. The words tasted foul and wrong on his tongue, and he all but cringed when they came out of his mouth.

"Well, I got that! But I still don't see how being reckless and suicidal is going to help!"

"She could have known something!" Alaric pointed at the door behind his back, then circled around Damon and headed for his car, more out of need to keep moving one way or another than actually knowing what exactly he was going to do. Stopped when he reached it, and turned. "Hell, I still think she does!"

"And you decided to stomp into the battle swinging a sword above your head?" Damon followed him. "Sorry, stake."

"Damn it!" Ric whirled around and smacked the hood with his fist hard enough to make a visible dent. He leaned against in propping himself heavily on his hands as he took one deep breath after another, his head spinning and his mind reeling. For a long moment he concentrated on the faint grey color of the hood, as if his thoughts decided to take a break. Slowly, he straightened up after a little while. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Think?" Damon offered helpfully.

Ric snickered humorlessly. "Right," he shook his head and then looked down the driveway before turning to Damon again. "And when we the last time you were thinking before doing something mindless?"

"Well, your wifey the dearest could have tried to rip my head off, Ric," Damon responded, sounding oddly serious. "Whereas with you, she could have easily done that. See the difference." The vampire ran his hand through his hair. Gave Elena a quick look and then shook his head when her gaze flickered towards Alaric for a moment. Yeah, she had already filled him in on the fun parts of the morning, making Ric's behavior justified and expectable. But even though he could understand him, they all needed to calm down now and start thinking instead of trying to get themselves killed. Even if it was easier, it wasn't quite effective. "This, out there, is not your wife. She could have made a lunch out of you if you posed too much threat with that sharp toy of yours." He nodded towards the stake.

Ric met his eyes again. "If she did anything to Jenna—"

"She said she didn't, and if you don't know any specific way to drag another answer out of her, we have to work with it." Damon cut him off. "Now shake off your hero complex and let's get back to business. Your girlfriend wouldn't appreciate it." Alaric flinched at the wording. "Come on," Damon patted him on the back, "We've got a damsel in distress to save."

"She could be anywhere, Damon." For the first time in the last hour Alaric actually let his fear slip, not bothering to mask it.

"Yeah, but it's not here, and also that's exactly why you should cut down on being stupid."


The first thing that Jenna realized upon waking up was that her head became at least ten time bigger than it was the last time she'd checked, whenever it was. Also, it was throbbing in that amazing way that was normally making one want to cut it off and end the torture. And that, without a doubt, was her biggest wish right now.

Her mind was hazed and unfocused as she fruitlessly tried to figure out what it was all about. For a moment there she guessed it felt like some sort of a very severe hangover. Except that it didn't make any sense. Well, to be honest, at this point nothing did. What mattered though was her eagerness to kill for some ice and aspirin, and maybe a few more hours of sleep. Oh, boy, she hadn't felt like this ever since that party…

Jenna's train of thought took a turn and disappeared in the mind fog, leaving the memory unfinished. Whatever. She'd think about it later, like when she'd be capable of thinking again, if she survived this hell of a headache, of course. At this point Jenna was starting to believe that death would have been a merciful outcome.

She moaned quietly, but even that sound started fireworks in her head, as if her brain exploded or something. God, whatever she'd been through, it must have been fun, she thought grimly and tried to move, which was challenging, what with that suspicion that somewhere along the way not so long time ago she was run over by the bus, and a few times perhaps. It felt like every single inch of her body hurt, even the places she didn't know could hurt.

Yeah, the very idea of moving was horrifying at this point, and for a little while Jenna simply concentrated on taking one cautious breath after another waiting for the pain to fade. But the more time was passing by, the more obvious it was getting that her limbs were starting to go numb because of her uncomfortable position, which basically left her with no choice.

With her mind concentrated solely on here and now – because thinking about five minutes ago or five minutes later was too much of an effort – Jenna reached for her head, if only to make sure that it wasn't actually the side of a suitcase.

It was only then that she finally registered uncharacteristical cold and odd smell – a mix of dust, old wood and stale air, as if she was in the room that had been locked for a decade or two. Of course no one bothered to warm it up for her comfort. And then it suddenly downed on her – all the memories of the morning events and how she might have ended up here, wherever here was.

She had left Alaric's – after demonstrating him vividly just how much she was going to miss him – a little before seven, wishing she wouldn't have to go. On her way home she stopped by the bakery to get some fresh croissant since they always were out of them, and both Jeremy and Elena loved them better than toasts. The sun wasn't up yet and the air was chilly. With surprising clarity she remembered the way the wind played with her hair, pulling and tossing it, as she walked these twenty feet from her car to the store.

Inside, Jenna took her time to choose the pastry, grabbed a bottle of orange juice and headed out. Vaguely, she recalled someone touching her shoulder and asking if she knew what time it was. She didn't remember turning though, and then everything had gone black – before she woke up here.

Oh God…

Slowly, Jenna opened her eyes, which wasn't such a good idea. Even that smallest of movements made her cringe. She tried to turn her head then, which momentarily made opening her eyes the highlight of her day. Sharp pain formed somewhere at the nape of her neck and then shot through her entire body. She heard another soft moan, and this time it took her a while to figure out that it actually came from her.

What the hell happened to me?

The idea of having fun at the party wasn't working anymore.

Nausea caused by the pain rolled heavily in her stomach, and all Jenna really wanted was to curl into a ball and stay like that until all of this was over. Sadly, it wasn't an option, and that was why she pushed herself up into a sitting position, doing her best to ignore the fact that the room started to spin and sway around her. They got to her. Whoever it was, they got to her at last. She had to get out of there. Oh, why did her head hurt so much?

She blinked a few times waiting for reality to come into proper focus. The room she found herself in was big but mostly empty, save for a few dark shapes here and there that she assumed were pieces of furniture. The ceiling was high and lost somewhere in the shadows, although she still could see an old chandelier that missed half of its decoration thingies and was coated thickly with dust. The windows were rather big but glassless and boarded from the outside making the sun streaking through holes and cracks between the boards the only source of light. It was barely enough to give her any idea about her surroundings.

The place was run down and abandoned, that she had no problem figuring out, and it didn't look familiar at any rate, which didn't surprise Jenna a bit. What really surprised and discouraged her, however, was the fact that her other hand was cuffed to the cot she was currently sitting on.

"You didn't expect it to be easy, did you?" She breathed out wiggling her wrist without any success. Well, the cuffs were slightly loose. She was no expert but she'd say they weren't her size. Although, much to her dismay, it was impossible to free her wrist without the key. Of course. "Damn it," Jenna muttered, twisting and turning her hand with no result.

She looked around herself again then. Now that her eyes adjusted to semi darkness, the shapes she spotted before turned into a table, a couple of arm-chairs and a stand-lamp, all looking like they had just came from a couple of centuries ago. Her cot, on the other hand, was plain and anything but antique. It had a metal carcass and together with the hand-cuffs it was making her life ten times more exciting.

Yeah, something it definitely not right with my life, she thought ruefully.

Needless to say that she didn't find her bag anywhere in close proximity, or something else remotely useful. Unless, of course she chose to gnaw on the cot carcass or chew her arm off. None looked appealing.

Jenna sighed.

The whole place seemed to be quiet, and even though her senses still were a little fuzzy, she didn't hear anything but her own breath as she struggled with her bind, and chirping of the birds outside. She had no idea how long she'd been out, knowing that any of her guessed would probably be wrong in any case. Long enough for the sun to go up, but with the windows boarded, it could mean from half an hour to five.

She wondered if anyone was looking for her, but if whoever brought her here had any brain – and she was pretty sure they did – it wouldn't be an easy task to find her. She doubted they'd left any breadcrumbs, not after all she had a pleasure to experience. For all she knew, she could have very well been somewhere on Alaska.

Oh, stop with the pessimism already!

"Come on," Jenna pleaded in a small voice tugging at her hand again, and wincing at how the metal was digging into her flesh. Had it been any lighter, she was sure she'd see some nasty bruises – her only achievement so far.

"Oh, I see you're up."

The sound made Jenna snap her head up, which sent another wave of dizziness and nausea down her body. Instinctively, she jerked backwards until her back was pressed against the wall and peered into the semi-darkness. She couldn't see her person yet, only the black outline that hadn't been there last time she'd checked. The voice belonged to a female and sounded slightly familiar to her ears, but she couldn't concentrate properly yet to try and figure out who it could belong to.

The only thing that Jenna knew for sure was that she wasn't alone anymore, and that it was bad news.


They ended up at the Gilberts' house eventually, which proved to be beyond torturous for Alaric in about five minutes, or less. The clock was ticking slowly on the wall, his mind was on fire and all he was capable of was dialing Jenna's number over and over and over again and checking his phone for the new messages, like, every ten seconds. Not because he was actually expecting to hear from her – that was way too optimistic even for him – but more out of need to do something however useless that something was.

Damon settled on the couch in the living room with a bunch of family journals, both Salvatore that they picked at the boarding house and Gilbert ones. He was stiff and tense, but unlike Ric, he kept his eyes on the yellowish pages covered with neat handwriting made in faded ink. Not that they hadn't been through all of them numerous of times but—

Elena camped out at the kitchen table with Damon's "work folder" – the one that contained all the stuff he and Alaric collected on missing people, found bodies, attacks and anything weird that had happened in the area lately, going scrupulously through every page.

They had been through all possible theories but got nowhere so far, which wasn't exactly making Ric feel any better. He felt like a caged animal as he paced back and forth in the living room, thinking and re-thinking and trying to see what he hadn't seen before. Each and every passing second was agonizingly slow.

"You are going to make a hole in the carpet," Damon noted at some point without even looking up.

Ric gave him a glare and swallowed a string of comments. He made two more steps and stopped. "We can't keep sitting here and doing nothing!"

"As opposed to coursing aimlessly around Mystic Falls? She's not going to pop up and jump at you from behind a tree, and you know it."

Alaric scolded him again. Yes, it was true. Yes, he knew that they couldn't do a thing without knowing where to start. Yet, waiting was making just staying there so much harder, and somehow "coursing aimlessly around Mystic Falls" stopped being that bad of an idea quite a while ago. It had already been past lunch time, and yet they were nowhere close to having any clue about what to do next. It was making him want to climb walls or give punches, or both.

The sound of the door open and close in the hall made them all but jump and whirl around, a wave of hope washing through each of them – as if Jenna could just come in as ask in her light bubbly voice of hers what all the grim faces were about, and then laugh at the stupidity of the situation and say something plain and simple as an explanation of not being reachable. After that she'd probably give some hard times to Alaric for starting the panic and making all this fuss in the first place, and he… he'd just hold her.

It wasn't Jenna, of course.

"What's going on?" Jeremy asked cautiously as soon as he spotted them, his eyes shifting from one to another. It took him not more than two seconds to read their faces to know that something was seriously off, his smile dropped momentarily. "What?" He asked again when no one said a word, his voice wary.

Elena exchanged a "It was inevitable, right?" look with Damon.

"You better sit, Jer," she said uncertainly turning to her brother, obviously dragging time.

"What is it?" He demanded, not masking his concern and looking at all of them in turns again.

"Sit," she repeated, and then filled him in when he flopped down onto the chair in front of her.

"But why are you here?" Jeremy exclaimed when she finished. He jumped up. "Why don't you—"

"What?" Damon asked in a lazy voice but not without challenge.

Jeremy faltered. "Well, I don't know—"

"That's the problem," Alaric stepped in, sounding endlessly-tired and world-weary, and not looking any better, too. "We don't have an idea, either."

Jeremy sagged back down onto his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, his mind reeling between options and possibilities, none of which was decent enough to be useful, or even make much sense to begin with.

"But we could—" he started again, his voice desperate, but trailed off and looked helplessly at Elena. Not that she could offer any reassurance…

A few more hours had passed by. November sun started to go down and the shadows kept growing longer. At some point Jeremy claimed some of Elena's papers, out of wish to keep focused one way or another rather than actually hoping to find anything useful in them, and his lips moved soundlessly as he read the pages. Belatedly, Elena remembered to start a pot of coffee, which was more a habit than anything else, but no one so much as touched it. She did pour a mug for herself, but it grew cold and she didn't even notice.

Several times Damon talked to Sheriff Forbes in case they were in the dark about something. He did not mention Jenna once but his question about any bodies drained of blood that had been found recently made them all catch their breathes until he shook his head, all the while feeding Liz some crap lest she suspects anything. Well, it didn't make much sense since Jenna wasn't some random tourist and if there was any information about her, the police would have contacted the family immediately. But they had to try in any case.

And all this time the phones were dead.

"What?" Alaric asked after a while when he noticed Damon frown at something.

"Mm?" The vampire looked up distractedly, then down at the journal again, took his time to snap back to here and now and then shook his head. "No, nothing here," he tossed the journal aside letting it land on the cushions. Got up and stretched. "It's whole load of…" He trailed off and cleared his throat.

"Welcome to my world," Ric muttered darkly. By this time his worry transformed to unbearable pain to dull numbness, which probably was the way his mind chose to cope with the situation before he actually fell apart. "Do you think John could have anything to do with it?"

Both Elena and Jeremy looked up and peered at him, puzzled, and it was only then that it occurred to him that some facts of Jenna's past were not quite a public knowledge, making him cringe inwardly.

"Never mind, just thinking out loud," he mumble, waving it off.

"Hey, you said it's something personal," Elena said all of a sudden, catching Alaric's eyes. "But Jenna had barely been here in the last eight years."

They all turned to her.

Ric stiffen, and Damon also went completely rigid beside him, both looking like the dogs that seemed to catch the track of a fox, except that none had any idea where the said fox go.

"What do you mean?" Jeremy asked.

Elena hesitated, choosing the words, as if the idea hadn't completely formed yet. "Well, she hadn't been that long here, only a few months. And she was mainly hanging out with us."

"So much for a social life," Damon commented but was completely ignored.

"I know she still has some friends from high school that still live here," she moved on meanwhile, "But it's not like they are close, you know. Not after all this time."

"Are you saying it could have something to do with her past?" Alaric asked when her words finally clicked.

She shrugged. "If it's not about your personal stuff, guys, and, well… Isobel, then I don't see why anyone would want to do it to her unless it's an old grudge or something like that." She paused. "Well, it could be some obsessed psycho with nothing logical about him, but—"

Her gaze shifted from Alaric to Damon to Alaric before the two of them looked at each other, practically seeing the light bulbs come to light above their heads.

Oh boy, it was… it was so damn simple that Alaric kicked himself mentally for not thinking about it before! His mind was working feverishly now. If Elena was right – and suddenly the possibility of it was not so crazy – then… then they'd been wasting time and should now be looking somewhere else.

"But she was just a teenager in high school back then," he said all the same, a hint of a doubt refusing to accept the fact yet. Too simple, Ric thought. Too obvious. And yet…

Damon snickered. "Oh please! You work in high school, you know how it is!"

Alaric pursed his lips thoughtfully while processing the new information, and then the idea occurred to him. God, it was grasping at straws, and it was almost desperate but—

"Do you know if Jenna has a year book or something like that?" He asked Elena.

How? How was it even possible that he never thought about it before?

"I'm—I'm not sure," she jumped up hastily. "But most of her stuff is here—let me check!"

She was back in about three minutes carrying a huge book in thick massive cover decorated with a bunch of school photos that Alaric vaguely recalled seeing on the shelf in Jenna's bedroom. It caught his attention once, but then he was distracted by something a little more interesting…

Elena flopped the book down, took her seat again and opened it.

"What are we looking for?" She asked Alaric who came up to her and peered at the first page over her shoulder.

"I have no idea," he said honestly.

Jeremy moved to sit beside her when Elena started to turn the pages slowly, their gazes sliding along the rows of black-and-white photos – the worst photo of my life type for the majority of the year book owners.

Jenna's was on the third page. She was easy to recognize, and Ric felt his lips curve into a small half smile, even despite the bittersweet sadness in his chest. She wore her hair differently, of course, but he spotted her immediately and without so much as a look at the name below the picture. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with rebellious challenge, which was probably exactly what made her be so familiar with everything detention-related, he thought not without amusement. Naturally, it faded slightly now, but definitely wasn't gone for good – much to his relief. Everything about high-school Jenna screamed trouble and judging by this photo she, without a doubt, was proud of it.

The photo of Logan Fell on the next page, however, was like a bucket of ice-cold water that washed away Ric's sentimental feelings. His brows drew closer momentarily but he held back the annoyance that was ready to spill out knowing that it was meaningless and useless.

"Do you recognize anyone?" He asked Elena instead.

She shook her head. "No." There was no point in mentioning Logan since he didn't pose any danger anymore. She turned over the page and her features softened momentarily. "That's mom," she said with a sad smile pointing at the picture made at some project exposition or something like that.

Miranda's arm was around Jenna's shoulder as they both beamed into the camera standing before… well, before something blurred and confusing. Not that it mattered. They looked… glowing and happy, causing a pang of bitterness in Elena' heart. She took her time to study the photo before turning the page again. Scanned another bunch of pictures made at different events mostly before something caught her eyes and made her freeze and straighten up in her seat. Her eyes glued to a group photo of the football team and cheerleaders' squad standing at the football field near the bleachers, she let her finger trace the line of the names under it.

Alaric stiffened momentarily. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure yet," she mumbled if a little distractedly, looking slightly confused. "But you see here?" She pointed at one of the names. "Melissa Curtis."

Now he was confused, too. Just like the rest of them, come to think of it. Both Damon and Jeremy watched her expectedly. None so much as opened their mouths though.

"So?" Ric prodded. "Do you know her?"

Elena bit her lower lip. "No, but… the name looks familiar." Her frown deepened. "I'm sure I've heard or seen it somewhere recently."

"Maybe on one of the previous pages?" Jeremy supposed.

"No," Alaric shook his head. "She's not there." He studied the girl in red-and-white uniform smiling at him from the image, her dark hair pulled up into a pony-tail and a pair of pompons clutched in her hand. "How is it possible?"

"She was smart enough to miss the photo day?" Damon shrugged.

"She was a cheerleader," Elena explained, ignoring him. "Which means she could have been younger and her class probably had its own year book. But the team photo was a must, and…" she trailed off, thoughtful.

"Okay, so, what is about this chick, again?" Damon leaned between her and Jeremy to study the page.

"Well, nothing, but—" Elena stuttered.

"Is there anything about her?" Alaric asked, not sure what to make of all of that yet.

Elena went back to the student information pages and checked them, twice. "No."

"Wait a sec," Jeremy bolted up and ran upstairs to come back half a minute later with his laptop. "Let's see what we have on her."

He typed her name into the search browser and scrolled down a bunch of pages. Curious, Elena leaned closer to him. He changed the search words, added school name, and then a victorious smile crossed his lips.

"Okay, so…" He leaned closer to the screen. "Born, graduated…" Jeremy mumbled under his breath. "Usual stuff." He scrolled down. "Went to the North Caroline University, has a degree in Psychology… Came back to Mystic Falls after graduation… Well, that's it."

"Is that all there is?" Alaric asked, disappointed.

"She wasn't a celebrity or anything," Jeremy shrugged.

"They've got pretty much ever for a non-celebrity," Damon noted as he came up to stand behind Elena's back. "Shouldn't it be, like, confidential information or something?"

"Looks like there was a reunion a couple of years ago," she explained looking up at him and then at Alaric across the table. "They got some info on everyone who showed up and updated the school web-site."

"It's still pretty much nothing," Ric pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long exasperated sighed. Fixed his eyes on Elena. "Not without you telling us what is it about her."

"Hey, wait a second, guys," Jeremy called them, growing serious and tense by the second. "Check this out."

"What?" Alaric circled the table so that he could see the screen, too.

"Here, look – Melissa Curtis was spotted at the Charity Ball, and later at the Historical Society Brunch accompanying New reporter of Mystic Falls Logan Fell," he read out loud.

They all looked at each other.

"Bingo," Damon drawled.

"You think that's it?" Elena asked after reading the text quickly, and a short gossip article in some local paper that went below.

"Probably," Damon admitted. "When did this happen?" He addressed Jeremy.

"A couple of years ago."

"Can you find anything else about her?" Alaric asked the boy.

"Yeah, maybe. Give me a few minutes."

Ric straightened up. He turned and walked up to the kitchen island, stopped when he reached it as if he forgot suddenly why did he even decide to go there. Restlessly, he ran his fingers through his hair, wanting it believe so much that this was it, and yet scared of hoping because if it was nothing and they were back to square one—

"You really think it's her?" Elena asked again, studying the picture in the year book. "You think she's the one doing all of this?" The question was rhetoric though, she obviously didn't expect anyone to respond.

"It's the closes we've been to… anything," Alaric said all the same, his voice tired and his eyes full of desperation when their gazes locked.

She wanted to add something, to agree or disagree he didn't know, but didn't so much as opened her mouth in the end. When being desperate and grasping at straws, anything was better than nothing, and they all knew it.

"I think I got something," Jeremy said at last making them all turn. "Her family used to have a house right outside the town, one of the founder's mansions or something like that." He typed in something else, opened another page. "The Historical Society made a big fuss about it back in the 50s when the original owner decided to sell it to, well, not historical people. Here's the address."

He scribbled something on the piece of paper and handed it to Alaric. Damon snatched it from him, however, before Ric had time to reach for it.

"Brilliant!" The vampire beamed. "Come on, let's check it out."

Oh, thank god, was the first thought that crossed Ric's mind. And he didn't even know if it was about the hope to finally have a lead on Jenna's whereabouts or the fact that they were going to leave the house at last. He was so going to scream if he had to spend another hour there, sitting and doing nothing, only thinking against his will about some horrible things that could be happening to her meanwhile.

"Yes, let's go." Both Jeremy and Elena go up hastily.

"Oh, no, not you!" Damon reacted immediately.

"What?" Elena snapped and then looked at Ric with disbelief, searching for support perhaps. "But—but it's Jenna!"

"Exactly," Alaric shook his head. "You should stay here. If it's nothing, it wouldn't change anything. If she is there—" he swallowed, realizing for the first time that there was a tiny chance to actually find Jenna. "If she is there, we will have to be thinking about getting her out, not about keeping the two of you safe."

"We can take care of ourselves," Jeremy protested stubbornly.

"Yeah, right," Damon snorted. "Funny." He looked from Elena to Jeremy and back to Elena. "You two stay here."

"But—" she started.

They all span around when the patio door opened, surprised, hoping. Well, it all vanished when Stefan stepped inside.

"Hey—" he trailed off, his smile dropping by the second.

"Where have you been?" Elena made a step towards him. "I called you."

"Yeah, I—" Stefan began, but then observed them all once again, his brows coming together. "What's going on here?"

"Oh, great!" Damon all but beamed. "You are on babysitting duty, little brother." Stefan blinked, making Damon roll his eyes. "Just make sure these two don't leave the house, okay?"

After that, he turned on his heels and headed for the front door after Alaric, who seemed to be basically dying to leave, impatient and antsy.

"Damon, what's going on?" Stefan called after him but didn't get any kind of acknowledgement.

It was Elena's voice that stopped him in the doorway.

"Damon." He turned, his hand on the doorjamb. Her gaze shifted between him and Alaric who was already outside on the porch. He turned as well though. "Be careful."


Okay then, she was god knows where in the obviously abandoned house with someone psychotic and not really sane perhaps. Someone who might very well turn out to be a vampire. Yeah, and she was cuffed to a pretty solid construction, too. Just to make it more fun. On the scale from one to ten in terms of being screwed up she was probably hitting fifteen. At this rate her chances for survival were somewhere way below zero. No, screwed up wasn't even covering it, not even close.

Jenna swallowed hard, wishing with all her might that she'd just merge into the wall. Her heart was pounding somewhere in her throat, threatening to suffocate her any moment, and her whole body was shaking. It could have been cold of course, but her bet was on adrenaline caused by fear. It was only then that she noticed all of a sudden that the light had started to fade gradually, plunging the already darkened room into deeper shadows. Was the sun going down already? Hell, how long had she been out?

"Who are you? What do you want?" She asked, fighting hard to keep her voice firm. It trembled slightly though, betraying her. And her head… oh, her head hurt so bad.

The woman snickered coldly. She stayed in the darkness where the last rays of sun couldn't reach her. She was wearing heels, apparently. Jenna could easily define the sound on the hard-wood floor that echoed in the corners. Darkness was her advantage, her chance to see and study Jenna properly without revealing herself, making Jenna feel exposed and vulnerable, making her physically feel that glance sliding up and down her, as if measuring her one way or the other.

That was probably how the cats looked at mice while playing with them before killing them – with a mixture of lazy amusement and cold calculation. The thought made her press her back into the cold wall even harder.

"Does it even matter," the stranger spoke all of a sudden, surprising Jenna and making her blood run cold, "if you are going to die?"

To be continued…


A/n: well, thanks for reading! Typos and other mistakes are all mine, of course, don't be harsh ;)

And remember that reviews are making me happy :)