author's notes: whoa, fast update. can't take much credit, my brain rolls these chapters out like hot buns, or something like that. thanks so much for your massively inspiring reviews/comments!

characters: Jeremy, Amelia (OC), Damon, Mayor Lockwood, Stefan, Bonnie, Elena

setting: AU from 1x14 - Fool Me Once onward

disclaimer: fic•tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

MALUM DISCORDIAE;;

chapter five

I live in fear. It consumes me. In the early evening when the sun begins to fade, the fear comes. Because I know that the night brings death.

The words have new meaning now. He's thought about it, really thought about it, and Johnathan Gilbert's journal suddenly makes sense to him. Before it was simply the ramblings of a sick and deranged man, scared of even the faintest shadow in the dark recesses of the room, but now, this was a man who feared the right thing. The vampires. He remembers the drawings the journal held too.

Jeremy had found a copy of the journal in Elena's bedroom, underneath the board in her closet. Elena thinks he doesn't know about it, but he learned about it a long time ago. He hadn't bothered with her journal, that's private, even if he was madly curious about what her journal would say about Stefan, or Damon, or anything else about the weird things that had been happening around here.

He has to think about Vicky suddenly, and her disappearing, leaving him to fend for himself in a world that had been made better by her. When he thinks about it too long there's an unsettling feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach, and before long he has to think about other things, because his head gets crowded with too many painful memories.

There are things that he wants to share with someone, with anyone, but he doesn't know who to trust. He thinks maybe he'll go talk to Mr Saltzman; something tells him his history teacher had known more about this all along. And Alaric doesn't seem the type to protect him from the big bad world like Elena tries to do, and even Aunt Jenna sometimes. He likes to think he's grown stronger than that; he's not a little boy who needs to be coddled and made to believe the world's made up of puppies and rainbows.

He's not sure what had happened that night of the party, the night Anna said goodbye, the very same night in which he'd seen her face change for the second time. It couldn't be a coincidence that he'd ended up unconscious on the ground, waking up to Elena and Stefan hovering above him. Jeremy's almost sure that Anna is a vampire, even if the notion of it still sounded completely ridiculous. But how can he deny what he'd seen? What she had shown him? He'd gone through the papers again, about the missing people, the so-called animal attacks. It all makes sense now, in a strange and sickening way.

He lives in fear now too. Only he's not consumed by it. Instead there's a drive deep inside him to find out more, to be certain, to know. He wants to know if Stefan or Damon have anything to do with it, and if they do, he wants to make sure his sister isn't in any danger. What if they were vampires too? They both walk in the sunlight, but then so had Anna. It's one of the only things he hadn't been able to figure out. Aren't vampires supposed to be creatures of the night?

A hand lands on his shoulder from behind before he has the chance to think about it further. He looks down at the hand, adorned by a ring very close to the one Mr Saltzman owned. "Hey Jer, my man," Damon's voice echoes around him seconds later. He turns his barstool around to find Damon and his new lady-friend standing behind him.

Alaric and Jenna are on the other side of the bar.

"Damon," Jeremy says, and eyes both of them suspiciously. Especially Amelia. He can't help but think she carries with her some sort of ancient beauty, dark red hair, and bright green eyes that aren't for the time being leaving his. There's little else about her he manages to notice right now; her eyes are mesmerizing.

"Say, do you by any chance still have Anna's phone number?" Damon asks, and Jeremy is snapped from his thoughts. Amelia thinks it's curious how he's able to tear himself away from her look; she was just about to compel him.

"Uhm, yeah," Jeremy answers, feeling something elusive pulling tightly in his chest. He'd almost say he recognises it, only he can't place the feeling. Why was Damon asking him about Anna now? What did he want with her? "But it's no use," he adds, hoping Damon doesn't notice how he's analyzing his every word. "She skipped town. I haven't been able to reach her."

Damon leans in. He can't figure why Jeremy is being so difficult. Amelia said she'd compel him if it came to that, so why isn't she? "I'd like to try for myself," he says, and only just manages a smile. Elena's younger brother hesitates a few moments longer, but ends up sighing, and hands Damon his cellphone. "Do you know where she went?" Damon asks while he copies the number into his own cellphone.

"Nope," Jeremy answers, and carefully covers up the papers he'd been reading minutes ago. He notices how Amelia's eyes seem to pick up his every move. Wait, could she be a vampire too? Does that automatically make Damon a vampire? "What do you want with Anna?" he asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

Damon looks at Amelia, and there seems to be an understanding between them that no one else would be able to decipher, even if they tried. Amelia takes a step closer to Jeremy, and looks him deep in the eyes. Jeremy feels the pull of her immediately, so many times stronger this time, and he can only feel himself staring back. "Forget we ever asked you about Anna," Amelia says, voice low and compelling, laden with a power he's never felt before.

He doesn't say anything, not a word, and when Damon already turns to move away he figures that's what he's supposed to do. So it's true, the stories, vampires can get into your head, make you believe things and control your mind. But then why does he feel the same right now? He remembers the entire conversation, them asking about Anna. Why isn't he forgetting?

"You—" Amelia starts, but stops and frowns instead. Her eyes examine his neck, but then move further down before they come to rest on his wristband. She frowns again, and then realisation dawns. She purposely decides not to say anything more about it. If Damon were to know that Jeremy was wearing vervain, he might just kill him. There's no need to bring Damon's wrath down upon Elena's brother.

She knows, Jeremy thinks as Amelia stares up at him for one moment longer, a soft bemused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and turns around slowly. She knows I know she's a vampire. His fear grips him in a place very near his heart, and almost paralyzes him. Does this mean he's in danger? And why did she take such interest in his wristband? Elena had gotten him that wristband. His head reels from all the information its currently processing. He needs to get out of here.

Amelia has already joined Damon's side again by the time she sees Jeremy grabbing his things together and almost running for the door. She can't help but wonder if she just confirmed some kind of suspicion he might already have about her kind. She doesn't know what kind of trouble she's just gotten him into, or herself, but she won't speak a word of it to Damon; that's far too dangerous.

"Mr. Salvatore," a voice shakes Amelia from her nostalgia immediately. She looks up to see a man walking towards her and Damon, short-cropped black hair, nice suit. She takes a breath, and feels Damon's arm sneak around her waist already; it's time to play the part again.

"Mayor Lockwood," Damon says, and pulls Amelia even closer to him. He hopes that seeing him with Amelia will convince the most prominent member of the Founder's Council to leave him be quickly. Part of him realises he's clutching to Amelia to stop himself from going for the Mayor's throat right there and then. The Founder's Council had made him sick; he seems to remember a promise he'd made himself about what he'd do when he figured that out.

"Good to see you back on your feet," the Mayor says, and puts his hands in his pockets. He thinks Amelia's extremely beautiful, too beautiful to be bothering with a flimsy carefree soul like Damon Salvatore. His eyes glide over her body, taking in every inch of her. "I heard you and your brother were sick." The Mayor looks up again.

Damon feels fury striking him rather unexpectedly. He's never stopped a man from looking at Amelia before, because she can take care of herself, but this man is pushing the limits. He feels Amelia's arm sneaking around his back as well, probably because she's noticed his anger. It will do him no good to make a scene in here. His hand creeps under Amelia's shirt.

From the bar, it's not hard for Alaric to see the tattoo running up Amelia's back and disappearing under the fabric of the shirt Damon was currently molesting. He recognises the design immediately. But that's impossible, isn't it?

"Oh yeah," Damon says, and manages a forced smile, his teeth clenched tightly together. He really needs to feed soon; this isn't like him at all. Normally he's much more in control. "That. Little flu bug-thing. All better now."

"And your brother?" the Mayor asks, prying for more information. He'd been relieved when he saw Damon walk into the Mystic Grill bar unscathed. If it had turned out he and Stefan were vampires that would be a cock-up of massive proportion on Sheriff Forbes' account. He could tell she took to Damon Salvatore; he imagines there are few women that don't.

"He'll be better in no time," Damon answers. He's absolutely convinced now they have to cure Stefan. Before it hadn't mattered to him whether his brother lived or died, even though he would have preferred to be the one to do the killing, but right now, they had to erase any form of suspicion. He was cured, but if Stefan died, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was a vampire as well. "I don't think you've met Amelia," Damon hopes to change the subject. "Amelia, Mayor Lockwood," he introduces them.

"So nice to meet you." Amelia shakes Mayor Lockwood's hand; she notices that he can't stop looking at her body. And that for a married man, shame shame. "I'm afraid Stefan and Damon getting sick was my fault," she explains, to make the plan play out in full. After all, she was the unknown factor that had come into Damon and Stefan's life. "I had the flu last week; I must have passed it on to Damon."

For a moment, the Mayor is unconvinced. The lies seem too convenient, too easy and sly, too perfectly coincidental in their construction. But one look into Amelia's eyes, and he's convinced this girl is hardly capable of any lies, let alone to protect Damon Salvatore and risking herself in the process. "Good thing they had you and Ms Gilbert around to take care of them then," he concludes, and leaves them to the rest of their business.

By the time they make it outside, the night's air cool on their skins, Damon is almost seething with anger, the hardship of the past few days and hunger making it difficult for him to control himself at all.

"Let's go grab a bite," Amelia says, arm still around Damon as his is around her body. She likes it like this, when it's just the two of them, even though she knows that tonight's events will lead them down a path they've not walked before. A path that will lead them to Katherine, Damon's one true love. Amelia knows she'll never be able to compete with her.

Damon looks at her in surprise. "Really?" he asks.

Her eyes give him all the answer he needs. She'll give him this now, for as long as she still feels like he belongs to her. Maybe just for tonight. "Make the phone call first," she says, and smiles up at him. "But we're not killing anyone," she adds, raising a finger at him to underline her point. "It's just a bite."

Damon wants to protest, but when he meets with the determination in Amelia's eyes, he just sighs. He can give her this much.

He takes his cellphone from his pocket, and dials Anna's number. At the fifth ring, she finally picks up. "Anna, it's Damon," he says, and hears an intake of breath at the other end of the line. But he doesn't give Anna the chance to say anything. "Don't talk, just listen. Way I see it from our last encounter, you owe me one. So you're going to find Katherine for me as soon as you can possibly muster, and send her this way."

There's a moment's hesitation on Anna's end. "What if I don't?" she asks.

"Then I'll have no choice but to come after mommy dearest," Damon says, not a trace of hesitation in his voice. "I want to bet she's not at full strength yet, after festering down in that tomb so long. Get Katherine here, and we're even." He hangs up. Amelia is staring at him when he turns. "What?" he asks. "You're worried she won't find Katherine?"

"I'm worried she'll take too long," Amelia answers. She doesn't know how much longer Stefan will be able to fight this thing before either his body gives up, or his mind. Elena being by his side probably makes it easier for him to fight, but that strength won't last. This poison will kill him if they don't find Katherine in time.

"That'll be her problem then," Damon shrugs.

"How can you be so—" Amelia shakes her head, falling short of finding the right word. She knows about the animosity that exists between Stefan and Damon, hell, she even understands it, but how can he be – or seem – so apathetic? so unfeeling? It could have easily been the other way around, and if it had been, Stefan would undoubtedly be doing everything in his power to help his brother. Why can't Damon see that? Or is it that he just can't admit that to himself?

"Callous?" Damon offers, suddenly reminded of the word Elena had used earlier that morning.

"Not the word I was planning on using," Amelia answers, sighs, and starts walking. For a second she thinks about how she should just come out and say it, but she knows speeches like that don't reach Damon's heart the way it would others. And in any case, she's not his mother. It's not up to her – especially not after all this time – to be teaching him important life lessons.

"You have brothers or sisters?" Damon asks her suddenly, his footsteps as inaudible as hers. She looks at him briefly, meaning to ask him why he's so interested all of a sudden, but she knows there's little use arguing with him about this.

"I did," Amelia answers, but doesn't meet Damon's gaze again. She remembers her two brothers playing out in the fields, and her younger sister chasing them through the tall grass. Amelia can feel Damon's eyes on her. She breaths in sharply. "They died before I turned." Several years before in fact. Their deaths was one of the reasons she was out there on that battle field. "All of them. And I watched them die." Killed, by the same monsters that ended up killing her. Humans, not vampires.

She doesn't mind talking about this, and she can't blame Damon for being curious. She never talks about her past much, mostly because she's become a constant in history that's impossible to erase. She's played little part in the major events, but she feels part of them nonetheless.

"Were you ever married?" Damon asks next, and she looks up at him in question. Why all these questions now? "Just curious," he answers her unspoken query. He can't say he's never wondered about it before. She's older than him, and there must have been countless of men in that time.

Amelia's hand closes over the silver heart on her necklace. "I was married." His name was Conrad. "And I had children." Three, because it seemed right after losing so much. Two girls, one boy, named after his father. And then it all comes floating back to her, the memories made history, her lineage, all the descendants that she outlived. "I had grandchildren, and great grandchildren." But they died, they all die.

"Exactly how old are you?" Damon sniggers, but only meets with dead silence. He looks at Amelia sideways, who's staring blankly out in front of her. He feels guilty for a moment, because whatever past she's remembering must be horrible. It must be horrible to have lived in a time where you could watch your siblings die, to become a vampire and be hunted, to watch your own children die of old age. But thinking about that only makes him more curious. "Come on. I don't see what's the big deal anyway."

"Because in my days there were still rules, Damon." Amelia stops abruptly in her tracks, and looks at him strongly. Rules she had desperately tried to teach Damon and Stefan as well. At least Stefan had listened. "You didn't turn humans after they were compelled, you didn't leave your creations alone for at least a few years. And most importantly, you avoided detection at all costs."

"Is that why we're out tonight?" Damon asks, ignoring Amelia's point entirely. "To avoid detection?"

"We're here to avoid suspicion," Amelia answers, realising that once again Damon isn't really listening. "What would the Founder's Council think if they found out you and Stefan had been sick?" They'd be quick to put two and two together and organize a lynching mob to come kill them. It wouldn't take them long to implicate her either. Or worse, Elena. "Since they still think there's no cure, you've now made sure they don't think you're a vampire."

"Me? A vampire?" Damon feigns insult. "An upstanding citizen of Mystic Falls?"

He's dying. Every cell in his body is on fire, his skin, his head, all burning up. His skin is clinging to the sheets, his mouth is dry, his throat parched, and his eyes feel like he hasn't used them in ages. But he holds on to the pain tightly, because it's the only thing reminding him that he's still alive, and that he has something left to fight for. And of course, there's Elena. There's always Elena.

Bonnie warned him that her spell would probably only make him hold on longer, but he knows that's not what it's doing at all. He'd been feeling it for hours before Bonnie arrived; the darkness, beckoning him closer, seducing him into letting go. That's not what worries him now; fighting the darkness is easy if it means seeing Elena for a moment longer. It's the strain his illness is putting on her that pains him beyond belief. He doesn't want her to see him suffer like this; he knows she's been through enough in the past already. Giving into the darkness had never been so tempting.

"What did Bonnie—" he tries to finish the sentence, but his body fails him, his breath catching in his throat, the coughing that ensues shaking the bed. His head throbs, his brain feeling too big to be contained, his eyes swimming in their sockets. Everything hurts.

"She bought you more time," Elena answers, and places her hand on his forehead. It's no use trying to break his fever, she knows this. Stefan is sweaty and sticky and no matter what Elena tries to cool him down – she's even tried ice cubes – nothing seems to be working. "Amelia and Damon will be back with the cure, and you'll be fine," her voice breaks three words in, and tears fill up her eyes, cascading down her cheeks seconds later.

She can't believe this is actually happening. If it hadn't been for Bonnie's spell he might already be dead. She wishes for Amelia and Damon to hurry; she doesn't even care that they'll bring Katherine with her. She just needs Stefan back.

"You mean Katherine," Stefan chokes out, and forces his eyes open painfully. He looks at Elena, and strains to lift his arm to her face. Elena takes hold of his hand as it comes to rest on her cheek, wiping at her hot tears. "I don't want her in the same room as you," Stefan says softly. He doesn't know what Katherine will do once she sees how much she resembles Elena. He fears what she might do.

Elena shakes her head. "I won't lose you, Stefan," she says, voice almost gone from all the crying she's been trying to hold back. How can he talk like this? Doesn't he know she would give her life for him? Can't he see that?

Downstairs, someone rings the doorbell.

Elena's heart jumps in her chest, not out of fear, but at the thought that it might be Amelia and Damon. It drops twice as deep once she realises they wouldn't need to ring the bell. "I'll go see who it is." Elena swallows hard, taking in a breath that doesn't reach her lungs, and wipes her tears away. "Can you watch him for me?" she turns her head, and looks at Bonnie, who's seated at the foot of the bed.

Bonnie nods soundlessly, and watches Elena walking out of the room.

"Bonnie," Stefan calls, voice under a whisper. Bonnie walks over and sits down by his side. He grabs her hand almost immediately, and squeezes it, giving it all the strength he has left. "You have to protect her," he forces the words out gravely, trying to bring Bonnie's face into focus. "Listen!" he hisses, fearing that Bonnie is slipping away from him. "If Katherine..." His body gives up; he feels his skin flushing hot one last time, and then the darkness takes hold of him.

"Stefan," Bonnie calls softly, but her voice doesn't even seem to register. A dreadful memory flashes in front of her eyes, of her Grams lying in bed, just like Stefan is now. No. "Stefan!" she calls out loudly, and shakes him by his shoulders. No response. "ELENA!" she shouts, and gets up from the bed, rushing downstairs as fast as she possibly can.

She halts on top of the landing, staring down at the entrance of the house. "El—" she starts, but can hardly believe her eyes when she lays eyes on the scene in front of her.

Elena's standing on the right of the hallway, inside the door, staring wide-eyed into her living reflection.

Katherine.

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