author's notes: aand the story continues. thanks so much to everyone reading/loving/leaving me comments. i hope everyone enjoys the new chapter, even though the poor Salvatore brothers are suffering.
characters: Elena, Jeremy, Amelia, Joshua (OC), Damon, Stefan, Sheriff Forbes
setting: AU from 1x14 - Fool Me Once onward
disclaimer: fic•tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination
MALUM DISCORDIAE;;
chapter three
It's early evening when Elena gets home. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel, exhaustion rippling through her body when she finally gives herself the time to feel it. She'd been taking care of Stefan all day, trying to cool him down, and while Amelia was calling all her contacts, she'd done the same thing for Damon. She never thought she'd be put in that position.
The worst thing about it all is that she can't talk to her friends at all. Sure, Bonnie knows exactly what Damon and Stefan are, but she'd much rather stay away from them than take care of them while they're sick. And ever since her grandmother died performing a spell to get Katherine back for Damon, Bonnie's been less than willing to be around him. Sick or otherwise.
Elena hasn't once paused to think about what this mysterious illness could mean for her. She doesn't think about how Stefan could die if they don't find out what's wrong with him in time. They can't very well go to a doctor; what would they tell him? That her vampire boyfriend has flu-like symptoms and a mystery rash on his skin?
But what if he dies? What if Damon dies? She shakes her head strongly, hoping to shake off any dark thoughts that will distract her from her current mission. Her brother stops her on the landing when he catches sight of her coming up the stairs. "Elena? Where have you been?" Jeremy asks. "Aunt Jenna's been worried sick." In truth, he'd been worried as well. After what happened at the old Fell's Church – even though he's not really sure of what exactly did happen – he's not sure if Stefan or Damon are in any way to be trusted anymore.
"I was out with Stefan last night," Elena says, but nothing more. She walks into her room and grabs an overnight bag. It should do for now. If helping Stefan out takes longer she'll come back some other time for more stuff.
"What are you doing?" Jeremy is in her door suddenly.
"Grabbing some clothes," she states the obvious, but doesn't stop packing. She takes what she needs from the bathroom, but when she makes it into her room again, her brother is staring at her for more answers. "Stefan's sick, I need to be there for him," she explains, and walks over to her closet.
Jeremy crosses his arms over his chest. "And where's it written that you have to take care of him?"
"Because I'm his girlfriend, and that's what good girlfriends do." She briefly wonders how many girlfriends have been there by their boyfriends deathbeds. The more she thinks about it, the more she realises how she's not cut out for this. She loves Stefan more than anything, but she's lost so much already. Stefan can't die on her too. "Plus, Damon's out too," she says, hoping it will convince her brother to leave her be.
"They probably caught it from Damon's new lady friend," Jeremy jokes. "Did you see how they were all over each other at the Grill?" It'd been rather hard to miss the two of them together.
"Mind out of the gutter, brother." Elena shakes her head, and makes a mental note to grab some food from the kitchen as well. A house with vampires isn't all that stacked with snacks. "I'll call in later," she tells her brother. "Be a good boy," she adds, and ruffles through his hair. She hopes she doesn't convey the gravity of the situation she's in; Jeremy can be spared any unnecessary pain.
"Yeah yeah." Jeremy moves away from his sister's assault, and stares after her as she descends the stairs. There's something in her eyes that tells him something is up, but he can't put his finger on it. It's the same look she had the weeks after their parents' car accident; he doesn't like seeing it again at all.
Amelia's on the phone when she hears Elena coming through the front door again. She ignores Elena's greeting, but something tells her she doesn't particularly mind. Elena wants to get to the bottom of this as much as she does.
"You're sure?" Amelia asks, fingers making circles at her temple. She's never felt more tired in her life, but she's never needed to be busy more than now. She needs to figure out what's wrong with Stefan and Damon before treating herself to any form of rest.
"I am," the man on the other end of the line – Joshua – answers. Amelia releases a shuddery breath, and closes her eyes, feeling defeat wash all over her. It's been a long time since she's felt this powerless. "I'm real sorry about this, Mel," Joshua says, concern audible in his voice. "I know what those boys mean to you."
"It's okay. I'm sure you did everything you could." She puts the phone down without exchanging any last minute pleasantries; she's not in the mood for them, and it's not what she needs right now either.
She's spent the better part of the past twenty-four hours calling everyone she knows, calling in favours she never thought she'd cash in on, but she'd managed to reach the best and brightest. Unfortunately no one could give her the answers she needed. No one had ever heard of anything that could get vampires this sick.
"Any news?" Elena's voice sounds from behind her suddenly.
Amelia wishes she had better news. "No," she answers, and turns around. "I'm sorry." For all her years and experience, it seems this is one thing she won't be able to defeat. She hates this feeling, of being unable to do anything to help those most dear to her. She'd felt it a few times in her human life, sparsely in her vampire life, but it hit her hard every time. It tore her in half.
Elena leaves her silently, back upstairs to watch over Stefan.
Amelia knows there's little else left for her to do but go up and take care of Damon.
She reaches Damon's room, but he's no longer in the bed. A frown creases between her eyebrows, until she hears the water in the bathroom running. "Damon?" she asks, and walks to the bathroom. What's he doing? Taking a shower? Part of her refuses to think that he's feeling better, because that's granting herself too much hope in too hopeless a time.
When she walks into the bathroom, Damon is laying in the bathtub, the showerhead raining water down on him. "What in hell are you doing?" she asks.
"I'm so hot," Damon exasperates, his eyes closed. Amelia sighs and walks over to the shower, leaning in to turn off the water; she notices it's ice-cold. "If I wasn't already dead I'd say I was dying," Damon says, his voice raspy.
"Come here," Amelia says, and makes him sit up in the tub. She unbuttons his shirt, and throws it aside once he's struggled out of it. A wave of tears hits her when she sees Damon's rash has only spread further across his collarbone. She's not one to cry in any situation, but this strikes her deep down where her heart should be beating.
She doesn't want to think about what it would mean to lose Damon, or to lose Stefan. She might not have created both of them, but she regards both of them as family. Losing them now would mean going back to a time where she knows she's alone, without family or anywhere to go, no one to take care of, even if Damon and her are something else entirely. A time where she might as well be dead.
Damon groans in complaint when Amelia towels his hair dry, and makes him get out of the bathtub. Minutes later he's in the bed again, and Amelia's tugging off his wet pants. "I'm not really sure I'm in the mood for that right now," Damon mumbles, his face half-buried in the pillows.
Amelia rolls her eyes, and takes off Damon's pants. How he even finds the strength to joke around is beyond her. She makes sure he's under the covers before leaning in. "Don't flatter yourself," she whispers in his ear. Damon only just manages a smile before she pecks him on the cheek.
"If I ever find out who did this to me, I'll drain them," Damon says.
Amelia thinks that if he ever does, she'll probably help.
The next morning Amelia brings Stefan a cup of blood, not warmed up too hot this time. Elena hadn't said it in so many words, but Amelia could tell she didn't feel comfortable doing this for Stefan, despite her love for him. So she walks into Stefan's room while Elena is in the bathroom getting dressed.
Stefan has all the trouble in the world sitting up, but somehow manages to put his lips to the mug Amelia offers him. He coughs after taking only one sip, sprinkling tiny drops of blood over the white sheets. "Sorry," he chokes out, and moves to lie back, but Amelia puts a hand at the back of his neck, keeping him in place.
"You can rest once this is finished," Amelia pushes. She hates to do this so forcibly, but Stefan needs what strength he can get. Seeing Stefan and Damon like this is one of the most horrible things she's been subjected to in her lifetime, and she's seen quite the horrors.
The voices from the bedroom barely register to Elena. She looks at herself in the mirror, her eyes shining with fresh tears, tears she hasn't allowed Stefan to see. She never thought she'd have to watch him waste away, see him becoming less and less, needing someone to take care of him. He's supposed to do that for her, bring her chicken soup when she has a cold. This is all wrong.
"It seems to be hitting Stefan harder," Elena says once she's out of the bathroom, Amelia on the bed beside Stefan, feeding him the last of the blood. Elena thinks Amelia looks tired, but maybe that's just because she's tired herself. "Why do you think that is?" she asks. Damon and Stefan were both bed-ridden, but Stefan had been out longer, and he looked more sick than his brother.
"Could be because of his diet," Amelia answers, running a hand through her hair as she gets up and gives Elena her spot back on the bed. "Maybe he ingested something more. I'm not sure." She sits down on Stefan's desk.
Elena grabs a washcloth from a bowl of water on the dresser by Stefan's bed, and dabs it across his forehead. Stefan stirs on the bed, but doesn't open his eyes. "Have you ever heard of anything infecting vampires?" Elena asks, feeling tears stinging her eyes again. She'd hoped to keep from crying in front of Amelia, but she can't help herself. Stefan is getting worse by the minute.
"The only substance that hurts us physically is vervain," Amelia answers, casting down her eyes. Part of her wishes she could share in Elena's sorrow, another part of her wants to give her privacy. "But this is a completely different reaction. They're actually— sick." And there's absolutely nothing she can do but watch them get worse. She has no idea what this is, and she's seen her fair share of illness. She has no idea what to do.
The doorbell rings.
"It's the sheriff," Amelia says, recognising the woman's scent coming from downstairs. "I'll get it." She gets up and looks at Stefan. He's shaking on the bed, mumbling incomprehensible words to himself. "Try to keep him quiet," she tells Elena, who just nods.
Before descending the steps, she goes and checks on Damon; he's laying face-down on the bed, just like she left him, shaking but asleep. She closes the door to his room carefully, hoping he keeps quiet while she talks to the sheriff.
"Sheriff Forbes," Amelia says when she opens the door. "What can I do for you?"
"Is Damon home?" the sheriff asks. She'd hoped not to see the young woman she'd met at the Grill again, but it seems she's now taken up temporary residence in the Salvatore home. She looks like she's hardly slept at all since last time they spoke.
"He's out of town for the day," Amelia answers, aware that it sounds more than a little suspicious, but she doesn't know what other lie to use. The sheriff doesn't seem to pick up on the lie in any case. "Is there something I can help you with?" Amelia adds.
"No, I'll come back when—" the sheriff takes a half-turn away from the door. She wonders if Amelia is speaking the truth; Elena Gilbert's car is in the driveway, and she doesn't see these two hanging out like best friends just yet. But then, Elena's probably upstairs with Stefan.
"Are you here for the vervain?" Amelia asks, remembering that Damon had told the sheriff about it. At the time it had been a ploy to learn more about the death of the young girl two nights ago. Right now it just seemed inconvenient to have her around. Still, Amelia figures it might get her mind of things. At the word vervain the sheriff stares at her curiously. "Damon and I don't have secrets," Amelia says. Not a lie. "Please, come in."
Amelia can tell the other woman is tired when she leads her into the living room. She leaves the room for a few minutes to grab the box with the vervain. "Here you go," Amelia says when she hands the little wooden box over. Sheriff Forbes opens the box. "I put it in the bracelets, and some necklaces. It doesn't stand out so much," Amelia adds.
"I see you got yours too," the sheriff nods towards her silver necklace. The irony of the situation would be laughable if Amelia couldn't hear Stefan and Damon shaking in their beds upstairs.
"I wanted you to know, that if there's anything I can do—" Amelia starts, because she admires the way Damon had weaselled his way into the sheriff's confidence. There's no reason she couldn't do the same. "I just feel like there's all this evil around me, and I'm powerless. There has to be more I can do. This just doesn't seem enough." She points at the box with the vervain.
A glint of victory touches the sheriff's eyes that puzzles Amelia. "Maybe not for long," the sheriff says.
Amelia frowns. "What do you mean?"
"We found a way to poison them." The word hits Amelia like a slap to the face. Poison. Of course. "It's vervain-based," the sheriff explains. "It was invented by Johnathan Gilbert but never used back then. We've put it in the town's water supply."
Amelia feels a fist tightening around her heart, anger grabbing hold of her. She stops breathing, hoping to maintain some kind of control, but it takes her all the strength in the world. "And it kills them?" Amelia asks carefully, trying not to show any emotion.
"It should," the sheriff nods, but frowns. The young woman in front of her seems not too pleased with this news at all, and—can she hear voices coming from upstairs? The sheriff shakes her head—it must be Stefan and Elena. "Way I understand it, it should affect them like the flu affects us."
Amelia's eyes snap up and focus tightly on the sheriff's face. "Does that mean there's a cure?"
The question bellows through the house expectantly, echoing in Damon's and Stefan's ears upstairs, landing back as an unbridgeable distance between Amelia and Sheriff Forbes.
Elena finds Amelia in the kitchen after she's heard the sheriff's car leave the driveway. She thought Amelia would have found her way back upstairs, but when she reaches the kitchen she realises why Amelia has remained downstairs. She's clutching a hand at the kitchen counter strongly, and she's shaking. Elena is not sure whether she's shaking because she's crying, or because she's angry.
"Amelia?" Elena asks, taking a careful step closer. "Are you alright?"
"There's no cure," Amelia shakes her head, wiping at her face before Elena gets the chance to see her tears. Elena doesn't know what it means. Will Stefan die? Will she have to watch him die? She's not sure she's strong enough for that. "The sheriff laughed about it, thought it was hilarious," Amelia chuckles lightly. "And I can't even blame her for wanting any of us dead."
Elena frowns. "What do you mean?" She carefully places a hand on Amelia's shoulder. The older vampire doesn't scare her anymore, but she doesn't know how to comfort her. She's in complete distress inside, but she can't even being to imagine how Amelia must be feeling.
"I'm old enough to realise my own existence is ridiculous, Elena. We're unnatural," Amelia says, realising all too well that she's not making much sense. "People call us animals or demons and most of us are. But we don't need to kill to feed anymore. Not this day and age." Upstairs, Stefan suddenly cries out in pain. It shakes Amelia from her thoughts instantly. "Listen to me, all self-pity while—" her voice trails off. "Grab a mug," she says to Elena resolutely.
Elena moves to one of the overhead cupboards quickly, and takes what she needs. "What are you going to do?" she asks when she hands Amelia the cup.
"The only thing I can think of doing." Amelia raises an arm, and bites down in her wrist. The first few drops of blood hit the ceramic mug in small pellets. Elena's eyes go wide at the sight of it; what exactly is Amelia planning?
A few minutes later the mug is half-full.
"Take this to Stefan and make sure he drinks it all," she tells Elena.
"You think this will help?" Elena asks, staring down at the cup in her hands. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, even though she's madly curious to know what the meaning of it all is.
"Vampire blood has healing properties," Amelia explains. It's not a cure, but it's the only thing she has left to give. Vervain affects her as well, still, but it doesn't hit her as hard as younger vampires. "Maybe it'll give them the boost they need to fight this thing." And if it doesn't, well, then she'll have to watch those she loves die. Again.
She follows Elena upstairs, but where Elena leaves to ascend the second staircase to Stefan's room, she heads straight to Damon's bedroom. She looks at him for a moment, hearing Elena trying to get Stefan to drink upstairs. All the hope she has left in this world is invested in that cup, and in the blood still running through her veins. It's her last hope.
"Damon," Amelia says softly, and turns Damon over in the bed.
"No," he complains, and keeps his eyes closed. His head is pounding, his body unnaturally hot and sweaty, but Amelia's hand on his forehead comes as momentary reprieve to his suffering. It doesn't last long; his skin warms hers in a matter of seconds.
Next thing he knows a drop of something deliciously alluring touches his lips. It's curious how it appeals to him now that he's this sick, but still his tongue ventures out and licks his lips. Another drop of Amelia's blood trickles down from her wrist, onto Damon's tongue. Part of him wants to protest, because it feels wrong to feed on anything when the rest of his body is still protesting, but his lips close over the wound on Amelia's wrist before he knows it.
He drinks.
Deep.
Sheriff Forbes leaves the Salvatore mansion with a strange feeling in her gut. Why would Damon have asked her to stop by if he wasn't going to be home? Why was Elena's car in the driveway, and why had she not seen her in the house?
Something tells her Amelia wasn't at all alone in the house, yet she hadn't seen Elena or proof of anyone else's presence. Amelia herself came across as extremely intimidating; she seemed only calm and composed on the outside, but the sheriff couldn't help but wonder what anger lay beneath, right underneath the surface.
Still, Amelia had gotten her more vervain. There was no reason she wasn't to be trusted.
She's only just reached her car again when she gets a call over the radio, telling her that another body had been found. On her drive there her heart rate picks up considerably, and she hopes to God she's not about to find the body of the young girl still missing.
"Some kids found him," the deputy on scene tells her the moment she gets out of her squad car, walking her over to where the body is. When she reaches the scene, her breath catches in her throat. It's not the body of a young girl; what she finds laying in the bushes is the burned body of a vampire, half-covered by branches. "It looks like he tried to shield himself off from the sun, but didn't finish in time."
The sheriff crouches down by the body, her eyes sweeping over the burnt skin. "Or he was buried," she concludes, because there's no reason why a vampire would be this far out during the day; there's no shelter for miles around. It makes more sense that he was dumped here some time during the night. "Which is very disconcerting." If he tried to cover himself up that's all good and well, but if he was buried, that means there are more vampires out there.
"At least we know the poison's working."
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