So, here is the new chapter of Unleashed. Most of it has been written for a while now. I just had to add some things here and there. Anyway, this story has reached over 100 reviews! I never thought that it would be so liked by you all. Everyone of you have my most sincere thanks.

So, in this, we still have the Scooby-gang acting like themselves, Damon being an ass and a badass Bella, which, by the way, took me by surprise. It has not been betaed, so I not so proudly own all the mistakes. If you find any, please, tell me so I can fix it.

Usually, I don't name the chapters of this story, but this one has an unofficial name, Game on, and is dedicated to salllzy, who keeps on being my soundboard even when I'm sure I'm boring her. Thanks, hun! I love you!

Edited: 31/03/18

Chapter 6

"What's going on?" Elena asked as soon as she heard the awed tone in Stefan's voice. She turned to Alaric, sure that he would have an idea about what was going on, but he seemed to be as puzzled as she felt. She returned her gaze to her vampire protectors and the brunette (and God! She had finally understood why everyone had been so creeped when talking about her. She and Elena did look a lot alike); Stefan's fingers were still running over Isabella's skin and, despite it not being a good time for it, she felt a pang of jealousy run through her. "Stefan?"

The younger Salvatore turned to her, a distracted look on his face. "Yes, Elena?"

Before she could open her mouth, he went back to study whatever it was that had caught both his and Damon's interests – that she couldn't see from where she was standing. She felt frustration bubble up inside of her; she hated not knowing what was happening. "What's going on?" She repeated her earlier question.

Damon looked at her, and she was surprised to see his face void of any emotion. It unsettled her. He returned his gaze back to Isabella and, using the hand that was keeping hold of her arm, he pulled it away from Stefan. He too ran his fingers over the brunette's wrist, and Elena gritted her teeth at the sight. Damon was being uncharacteristically gentle. (Where had all the hostility gone?)

"What's going on, Elena," he chanced a look at her, "is that Isabella dearest should not be alive."

"Story of my fucking life," Isabella said while tearing her arm away from the elder Salvatore's grip and bringing it close to herself. But Elena didn't focus on the way she had slightly curved around it, her posture entirely too defensive. Her brain was still trying to process what Damon had just revealed to them. What the hell?

"Can someone, please, share with the class: what the hell is that supposed to mean?" She heard Alaric demand, completely fed up with the three Salvatores. She watched as he went to pour a drink for himself, then plopped himself in one of the couches facing the two vampires and uncomfortable human. She exchanged glances with Caroline before they both decided to follow the hunter's example and take a seat.

It was clear the Swan wouldn't be saying anything, as she had retrieved her drink in the moment it took for them to move around and was slowly sipping it while scowling at the floor.

Damon and Stefan shared a glance, then also took a seat, one vampire on each side of their human cousin, effectively caging her. Isabella's hold on her glass tightened. Damon, then, casually threw his arm over the backrest and reclined, closing his eyes. Stefan must have taken this as his cue, for he cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

"You see, there are two kinds of vampire in the world," he said and stopped. Elena was vaguely aware of Ric suddenly starting to cough, spilling his drink all over himself in the process; something must have gone down the wrong way when Stefan's words registered in his brain. She was also faintly aware of the fact that Caroline – still on edge from the earlier revelation – was panicking by her side. Not that the Elena could blame her – she was panicking herself. She was already starting to imagine what this could possibly mean to her and her loved ones.

"Blondie, shut up!"

Damon's annoyed voice cut through the haze of fear Elena was starting to immerse herself in and brought her back to the Boarding House's living room in time to see the one blue eye he had opened glaring at the nervous blonde, who had been mumbling about not needing another specie of vampires in her life, successfully coercing her into silence (but not into submission, as was shown by the weak glare she tried to send his way). Elena agreed with her wholeheartedly.

Once there was silence, he settled again.

"As I was saying," Stefan resumed, before things could escalate. "This other kind works the same as us: they feed on blood, they are stronger, faster, and have more developed senses than any human. But they're also different: where we are weakest after transitioning, they are at their strongest; where we get stronger the older we are, they get weaker after their first year and basically freeze in time. There is also their appearance: while we can easily pass for humans, looking the same as when we died, they can't."

Caroline interrupted at this point, curiosity barely contained. "Why not?"

Elena's boyfriend sent the blonde a small smile before answering. "Because they change when they become vampires. Their skins harden and pale, resembling marble, and they are inhumanly beautiful."

Isabella chuckled, bringing attention to her tense form. "The Natives, where I came from, call them Cold Ones. Quite fitting, wouldn't you say so?"

Stefan nodded at that, a pensive look in his face. "Yes, it is. We call them Daywalkers. Also, it's rumored that they are an off-breed from us."

"Now that, I know, is a lie," she finished her drink.

Stefan's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"The Volturi," Elena saw as his eyes sharpened at the name. And even Damon had opened his eyes and was focusing on Isabella now. "For those of you who don't already know, they are the royalty of the vampire world." She paused and tilted her head, face acquiring a pensive mien. "That vampire world," she corrected herself. "In this one you have the Originals…"

The Originals? Like Elijah and Klaus? Elena wanted to ask. Were there more of them out there?

"Anyway, the Volturi have been around for at least three millennia." Elena felt her breath catching in her throat. A three thousand years old vampire? How strong would they be? "And there were others before them, of course. Unfortunately for you, I don't know anything about them."

Damon scoffed. "It doesn't matter their age, we are still stronger," he remarked in a self-assured tone, and Elena was reminded of what Stefan had just said. She took comfort in the thought those vampires would not be getting any stronger with age. She sighed in relief…

"Strength may mean nothing when faced with an experienced foe."

… And then found herself mentally cringing for her naïve thoughts, because Isabella was definitely right.

Before Damon could try and say anything to that, Stefan continued with his explanation. "Also, they have red eyes, which become darker the thirstier they get until it becomes black."

"About that," the Swan said while standing and going to pour herself another drink. "Their eyes are only red if they feed from humans."

"What do you mean?" Damon asked her with narrowed eyes.

"Their eyes turn gold if they feed from animals long enough," she answered and, surprisingly enough, retook her seat.

At that, Elena felt a hint of smugness bubble up inside of her; she knew it was possible for a vampire to survive on animal blood, to fight their instincts. Now, she only had to convince Damon too. Before she could open her mouth to ask the brunette about it, the blue-eyed vampire spoke.

"You knew vampires who fed on animals?" The disgust was apparent on both his face and voice.

"What's wrong with not feeding on humans?" Elena snapped, unable to control herself. Not after this proof that Stefan was doing the right thing. "Not everyone needs to be a murderer like you!" She told him and immediately regretted it at the flash of pain that appeared on his face. She ignored the weird look that Isabella was sending her, grabbed Caroline's hand and opened her mouth. "Damon, I'm—"

"Need I remind you, Damon, that you happen to be related to a vampire who feeds on animals?" The brunette interrupted her in mid-sentence, voice sharp. The Gilbert closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Damn it, she was going to apologize to him! Besides, how did Isabella know Stefan's feeding preferences?

She heard the blue-eyed vampire scoff. "Stefan's a lost cause."

Elena opened her eyes and was just about to say something she would probably regret again, but he continued. "What? Don't tell me you dated one of them too?" He was mocking Isabella again, she realized. She was once again reminded that Damon lashed out when hurt.

Elena was waiting for a vehement rebuttal from the brunette, but nothing came. Wait, did that mean that…

"No way!" Apparently, Damon had come to the same conclusion as Elena had, and he was openly laughing at the brunette, who was gripping her glass so tightly her knuckles had turned white. But even though he was clearly getting to her, her face remained impassive.

She shrugged. "We all make mistakes," she stated with an even voice, as if commenting on the weather. And it was clear to see that it was exactly how she saw it.

"Informative as this has been," Alaric said, putting an end to Damon's antics, "it still doesn't explain why you think Isabella here should be six feet under," he commented, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"We do not think, Ric, we know. It's a fact. She should be dead."

"What my brother is trying to explain, Ric, is: once those vampires bite you, you only have two choices: die or turn. There is no third option." Stefan paused and turned to Isabella. "At least, there shouldn't be."

"Then how?" Caroline asked in a subdued voice that did nothing to hide her curiosity.

"That, Blondie, is the one-million-dollar question."

Elena looked at Isabella, then, sitting there on the couch, looking at her drink as if it had all the answers in the world, inside a house that should belong to her family. A place, Elena knew, where she had shared happy memories with both Zach and that friend of hers – Angela, if she remembered correctly. But now, here she was: first, being interrogated by a group of strangers, two of them her many times great great-uncles, in a place that was supposed to be her home; and, now, clearly being mocked. She wondered if the memories she had of this living room were being replaced by this very moment. The thought made Elena sick.

"I think that's enough questions," she said, drawing all eyes to her. Even Isabella had raised hers and was looking at her, her brown orbs filled with a multitude of emotions.

"Not quite, Elena. I still haven't asked her about Elijah," Damon said, and she knew he meant to carry on with the interrogation, but she interrupted him.

"Then you should have focused on that instead of saying she should be dead."

Isabella studied her, as if trying to figure her out. Damon, on the other hand, was clearly frustrated with her.

"What the hell are you complaining about?" He asked through clenched teeth, leaning forward in his seat. "You got to learn about a new supernatural creature, didn't you?"

She had to give him this. But no matter how interesting it had been or how curious she was now, what right did they have to ask Isabella about her personal life?

"Elena, she's in cahoots with Elijah," Damon said. "You remember him, don't you? The big, bad Original who wants to use you as a sacrifice."

She bit her lips. She had already broken her deal with the Original. What would the consequences be if they did any harm to someone that was clearly close to him? Did Damon even think if it? Probably not. He and Stefan had the habit of forgetting about the consequences until they came back to bite them all in the ass.

Elena was just about to say exactly that to him, but Isabella spoke before she could open her mouth.

"You know, I don't know if I should be amused or disgusted by this little scene." She turned to the brunette, who was regarding them with her head tilted to the side. "You see," she went to explain. "I've seen it before, and I want no part in it."

"You don't know us. You have absolutely no right to judge," she snapped, offended. Here Elena was, trying to help her, and this was the thanks she received?

Strangely, Elena's outburst brought a smile to her face. Isabella leaned forward. "Then let me guess."

Even though her smile was bright, Elena couldn't help but realize, suddenly apprehensive, that it didn't reach her brown orbs. What could she possibly know?

:::

"You are the young, naïve girl who had never known about what goes bumping in the night before meeting your vampire boyfriend. You were a good student with parents who loved you unconditionally," Isabella started, staring straight into Elena's brown eyes. "Then you met your vampire, and he opened your eyes to a new word; one that, though you'd rather forget it exists sometimes, you can't imagine yourself not being a part of. At least, not anymore."

Elena recoiled, as if slapped, and it brought her absolutely no joy.

"You would do anything… go to any lengths to protect those you call family. From having your friends cover for you to lying straight to their face." Isabella remembered her dad's face the day she had told him that vicious lie just so he would remain safe from James and Victoria. Just let me go, Charlie. It didn't work out, okay? I really, really hate Forks! Thinking about it – the way he had looked as if she had crushed his heart – still brought tears to her eyes. "Anything… as long as they are safe."

She ignored the effect her words were having on the other brunette; ignored the tears that were gathering in her eyes. "You have a friend that is the sweetest person you'll ever meet. They always offer you their undying support and you always manage to drag them into your messes. And even though you always feel guilty about it, they never turn their back on you, and you will never be able to thank them enough for just being there." As soon as Angela had realized Isabella was approachable again, she had seized the opportunity. She would be forever grateful for everything her friend had ever done for her. She held back a smile at the thought that Angela would certainly cry if she were here to hear her words. Isabella felt like crying. Especially after having her wounds prodded.

"You have two friends that you consider sisters. One of them is a beautiful blonde concerned with her image that everyone thinks is a shallow and self-centered bitch. But she is, in truth, one of the most loyal people you know and to whom family means everything." The only difference was that Elena's Barbie was truly a sweetheart, which made it easier to be her friend. Isabella's was truly a bitch. She chanced a look at Caroline and saw that, though startled, she was quite touched by her words. She met the blonde's eyes and held it for a moment, then refocused on Elena (all the while pretending she didn't see the small smile that formed on the surprised blonde's lips).

"The other is someone who knows you inside out, usually supports your decisions and has the gift of foresight." Yes, she had been told about the Bennetts.

Fucking visions! Though incredibly useful when you're in a tight spot, their subjectivity made them inconsistent and faulty; hence nomads crashing the baseball game, Isabella meeting deranged vampires – which always resulted in another visit to the hospital – and birthday parties. The utter dependence that came from knowing the results of your decisions went without saying.

"There is the confederate soldier who used to be a real sweetheart, but nowadays is the evil guy that no one trusts, not even his family." At this, she refused to turn her gaze away from Elena and see Damon's reaction, though she could feel it when he tensed. Why she had even brought up his old status as a soldier? Well, she still remembered the shock that had run through her when, while leafing through that one History book, she had found a photo of Jasper. A human Jasper… who was not a Hale. Nope, Jasper fucking Whitlock had been the youngest major in the Confederate Army. How awesome was that?

"He's the one that always screws up, but…" she paused, thinking about her party. The one she hadn't wanted. "But when push comes to shove, he's the one that ends up saving the day." Isabella would never forget how Jasper had been the one to comfort her in that hotel room. You are worth it, he had said. He, along with the others, had been the one making sure that James was killed while Edward had been having a breakdown right in front of her when he should have been with his siblings tearing that motherfucker to shreds. It would have been a lot safer for her. If he had really wanted her human, he could have asked Carlisle to suck the venom while he helped his siblings.

Even if Carlisle had to stop the bleeding (after getting your ass kicked by a vampire, you tend to bleed a lot), he was a fucking vampire, with superhuman precision and speed. He could have stopped her bleeding and sucked the venom out if he had wanted to. It would have been the wisest choice to make; Carlisle had the utmost control, after all. But no. Apparently, it had been Edward's decision. She mentally sneered. No. It had been hers. Hers and hers alone.

Though nowadays she was happy – passed ecstatic, really – that they hadn't let her turn.

She had asked Carlisle later, when she had been sure that they were alone, how had they gotten Edward to stop drinking her blood; his commentaries about how it had called to him so strongly – his personal brand of heroin – running through her mind at the time. The blond had admitted that Jasper had to use his abilities to calm Edward down enough so he would come out of his bloodlust induced haze and let her wrist go. It had spooked her for days, even if she hadn't let it show.

(At the time, her utter dependence on him had really overcome her common sense. Also, love had made her stupid.)

She took a deep breath. "Your boyfriend," she went on, "is a vampire who hates his nature so strongly that he goes to extreme lengths to try and bury it while pretending he is human. He loves you so much that, even though he thinks he'll never be good enough for you, he just can't stay away. He has an overprotective streak so wide that it sometimes suffocates you, even though you feel guilty for it, because you know he only wants you to be safe." Once again, she refused to turn her gaze away from Elena, even though she could feel his eyes boring a hole into her. She didn't want to look at Stefan and see his reaction to her words.

And they even have the same hairstyle. The stray thought was enough to send a smidgen of amusement through her.

The difference was that, unlike Edward, Stefan cared enough about Elena to tell the truth.

Anyway, was she forgetting anyone? Now that she thought about it, she hadn't mentioned Jake. And she knew there was a high chance of there being werewolves around. It was Mystic Falls, after all. "And I will go on a wild tangent and say that you have a wolf friend." The Volturi crossed her mind, then. "And… well, we both know that some of the oldest vampires around want you dead, so…" she finished her little résumé with a shrug.

The silence was deafening. The tension brought up by her words was thick. Isabella looked around her. "So, did I guess it right?" She asked with the fakest smile she could muster.

The faces that surrounded her were full of disbelief, suspicious, wariness and some others that she didn't particularly care to interpret in her drunken state – even though she was not as drunk as she had made them believe. She was still quite capable of stringing more than two thoughts together and analyzing the mess she now found herself in.

But she did blame her drunkenness for being so verbal and open about herself.

She looked up from the glass of bourbon in her hand (she had dropped her gaze while considering her not so sober state) to the not so happy crowd around her. She couldn't believe how spot on she had, apparently, been. And isn't that all kinds of sad? She pitied Elena for having a life that so mirrored her own.

She nodded to herself, making her decision. She drank the rest of her alcohol, leaned over – and ignored – Stefan's tense form so she could drop the glass on the closest surface, stood and made her way to the door. Time to go.

Unfortunately, her plans were interrupted by Damon, who zoomed past her and was now standing in her way.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice was cold now, just like his eyes. Would you look at that! They were back to hostility!

Well, unfortunately for him, Isabella had no time to waste. As it was, she had already spent more time around them than she had wanted to. She tried to bypass him. He grabbed her arm and waited (there was no doubt in her mind that he would only consider to let her go if she answered his question). She tried to tug it away but stopped when he growled, his vampire visage coming to the surface. This was why she had been hoping to never meet him and his brother, she thought, sulking.

Why won't he let me go? She pursed her lips in aggravation and looked around to see if someone would intervene on her behalf. It didn't look like it. In fact, Saltzman and Forbes were trying to comfort a shaken Elena, and Stefan, while observing her and his brother, had his arms around his girlfriend and looked like he didn't have any intentions of letting her go anytime soon. It didn't look like rescuing was coming from that direction. (Isabella would never admit how hurt a part of her was that Stefan wouldn't even try to protect her from Damon.)

Seeing that she was not paying attention to him, and knowing her eyes had strayed to the doppelgänger, Damon pulled her to him and moved so he could shove her against the closest wall. His face inches away from her, fangs exposed.

That caught their attention.

"Damon!" That was Elena. "What are you doing?"

Ah, someone was coming to the rescue!

Yes, she was being sarcastic. But in her defense, she was drunk, annoyed with all the drama, and now sporting a sore back. Also, self-preservation went on vacation when she was drunk. So, she stared straight into those ice-blue eyes that were annoying her so much and donned her bitchiest attitude. "Where the fuck do you think I'm going?" Being so close to him, it was easy to catch his astonished look when he realized she was not reacting as he had expected, with fear. "I'm going back to my hotel room and making my fucking bags so I can get in the car, drive to the closest airport and get the first flight out of this fucking state. Hopefully, when I land I'll have at least three states between me and you," she spat. He recoiled, wide-eyed and surprised by the venom in her voice, his face relaxing and losing the vampire visage.

She didn't know if she would follow through with her threat. She still had Elijah to consider, after all. Isabella would be damned if she let this group of self-righteous assholes interfere in the Original's self-imposed mission. She might not agree with his views, but he was the one who knew the hybrid best, so she would trust him to know what he was doing. And despite being just a human tangled in the affairs of supernatural creatures, she would do her best to help. It was her nature, after all.

"Now, let me go!"

"No, I don't think I will," he said, recovering swiftly from his surprise, and got back into her space, then looked deep into her eyes. "You're gonna tell me everything you know about Elijah."

Isabella watched as his pupils contracted – it was impossible to miss it, seeing how close they were to one another – and her fury sky-rocketed, all traces of drunkenness leaving her. How dare him try to compel her?! Nothing – absolutely nothing! – pissed her off more than someone trying to control her. She had had enough of that with Edward and Alice. But before she could open her mouth to say something she would probably regret – and slap him for all she was worth – someone spoke.

"You know," the voice was feminine, "I don't think that is gonna work."

Both she and Damon turned to the entrance, where it had come from. Leaning against the wall, looking like she had nothing better to do other than watch the drama that was unfolding in front of her, was someone who could pass for Elena's twin. Though Isabella was able to catch subtle differences that would help her tell one from the other: her eyes were a shade darker than Elena's, same as her hair, which was also thicker. Then there were the clothes and make-up; the newcomer was certainly bolder and more stylish than the Gilbert girl appeared to be.

Honestly, Isabella found it kind of creepy how she kept on finding women who could pass for her family members.

"You're still here?" Damon ground out, even more annoyed than when he was facing her, if his scowl was any indication.

Her lookalike made her way to where the older Salvatore was still holding Isabella and pushed him aside, easily breaking his hold on her. "Sorry about him," she said with a small, charming smile on her lips. And if Isabella didn't know who she was, she would have probably fallen for it. "It seems that he's forgotten how one should treat a lady." She extended her hand. "I'm—"

"Katerina Petrova," Isabella cut her in mid-sentence, making the doppelgänger's smile vanish. "I've heard about you."

"Funny," the vampire said, tilting her head. "I've never heard about you."

She just shrugged and smiled at the older woman, who narrowed her dark eyes at her attitude before turning to Damon. "If you were trying to gather information on Elijah from her that must mean that she is quite close to him, right?" It was Isabella's turn to narrow her eyes. She did not like where this was going. "We should use her."

That was all she needed to hear to know she had to act. Nope. Not happening. Taking advantage of the fact that Katerina was still distracted with Damon, Isabella grabbed the pencil she had used to pin her hair and stuck it in the doppelgänger's neck, eliciting a scream from her. And while the doppelgänger was trying to rip the pencil away, Isabella took a hold of her head and twisted. She heard as the bones broke – internally cringing at the sound – and the vampire dropped.

She bent down to grab her bloody pencil. Inconspicuous weapon retrieved, she ignored her stunned audience, turned on her heels and left the house.

She was a few meters away when she scrambled inside her purse for her cell phone and, with shaking hands, called Elijah. "Hey, can you come and pick me up? "

:::

When Isabella left the office where Zach's lawyer worked, the next day. She felt trepidation coursing through her, but pushed it aside through sheer determination. She couldn't allow herself to falter; not after what she had just done. She just had to remind herself of the events of the last days to feel all her doubts going away, pushed aside by righteous fury. Damon – and all the others, really – had just pissed off the wrong person.

She felt a smirk forming on her lips.

Game on.

That's it. Thanks for reading. And, if I'm not able to write anything else until the end of the year, then Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.