author's notes: neeeeew chapter, that in essence just wrote itself, i can take little credit for it. hope you all like it! in happy happy news (which i am rather excited about) this story has reached 100 reviews! yay! *throws confetti* so every one of you that comments will get another shiny preview!

setting: right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

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

MALUM DISCORDIAE (apple of discord)

chapter 14: set me free

She doesn't know how much longer her body will be able to sustain this, this state in which she drifted between consciousness and sleep, between undead and the ghost she'll become if this persists any longer. Her wounds have healed for the most part; the one in her shoulder had healed fast after she'd drank Alaric's and Jeremy's blood, but healing Jeremy had taken its toll. She can still feel the hole in her chest, aching, burning, but right now it's hard to tell where the pain starts and where it stops exactly. Jonathan hadn't been by all day, and the blood he'd injected her with had already burned through her system. Right now, everything is blurring around her; the room looks hazy, voices are mere echoes. Only her body seems outspokenly present, its outlines charcoal black, insides aflame.

"So where's John?" Amelia asks, raising her head halfway, head drumming.

"He's out looking for Jeremy," Sheriff Forbes answers, and there's a tinge of concern that cuts through her. Amelia isn't looking good at all. In any other context she'd be glad to be rid of a creature like Amelia, a dangerous devilish thing that had no business in this town, or this world for that matter. But John had told them they needed Amelia's skills to find the other vampires in town, the ones that wanted revenge, the ones a great deal more dangerous than Amelia, if she can believe John.

Amelia doesn't immediately know what to respond. There's something in her that grows anxious fast. Damon, her mind echoes, because if Jeremy is missing she fears it could very well be Damon's doing. He always struck before thinking through his actions when he was angry, and she can imagine this is the sort of anger that fuels a man indefinitely. Especially a man like Damon. "Pity," Amelia huffs, hoping her anxiety doesn't sound through too strong. "It's not like him to miss out on all the fun." If John truly fears for Jeremy's life, she can understand his absence, but it's so very difficult to forgive him for it. Amelia pulls at the ropes around her arms, vervain digging further in her skin and underlying veins. She's had it with this; a man like Jonathan should show more respect for one as old as her. For one he shares kinship with.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the sheriff frowns, not at all liking the implication in Amelia's tone. Does she mean that John has done this before, or that he knows her somehow from before? No, the sheriff decides, Amelia's just trying to create confusion; she's dying and she's grabbing on to every lifeline she can find.

There's a short knock at the door before the sheriff can say anything more, and one of her deputies joins them in the room. Amelia finds it amusing that not one of them ever dares to meet her eyes. "Sheriff Forbes," the young man says, "Damon Salvatore is here to see you."

Damon, the word echoes, screams, pounds in her head, but Amelia tries her best not to react to the name too violently. What is he doing here? Why now? She hopes sincerely he's not here to do anything reckless, like try and break her out himself. Yes, she'd give about anything to get out of this room, to feed properly, to sink her teeth in Damon's veins and be filled with blood stronger than any human's. But she's also doing this so that John doesn't expose Damon or Stefan. Damon must know that if he's exposed, it won't take them long to find Stefan either. He can't do that to his brother just to save her. But she knows he's well capable of it.

"Great," Sheriff Forbes sighs. She's not sure she can deal with Damon right now. She herself had felt utterly betrayed when she'd found out that Amelia was a vampire; she doesn't want to think about how Damon would react. Most of the time, he struck her as the kind of man with a very short fuse. "What does he want?"

"He wants to see... her," the deputy answers, keeping his eyes downcast, only carefully glancing at Amelia when he knows she's not looking back. She's used to that.

"By all means," Amelia manages a grin, mouth watering at the thought of sinking her teeth into something as delicious as Damon. She would just about give her right arm to taste a few drops of Damon's blood, strong and virile, more his than hers, but her blood flowed through him nonetheless. Her arms strain against the ropes holding her in place involuntarily, her body beckoning her towards Damon, towards her salvation, towards her love. "It's been a while since I've had something ripe and juicy," Amelia jokes, but her chin drops to her chest, a painful shudder reverberating through her body. She whimpers, and says no more.

The sheriff doesn't grant her the satisfaction of an answer either. She walks out the door, pushing past her deputy, glancing back over her shoulder to see him lock the door and stand guard outside. She goes down to the town hall lobby, where Damon is pacing back and forth frantically, denied access by two other of her deputies. He stops moving as soon as he sees her. "Damon, you shouldn't be here," she says, sending her deputies out of the room with two short nods.

"I want to see her," Damon says, hand in his side, but one finger pointing strongly at her. He disregards any personal space between them, and looms tall over her. "Now," he insists, and part of him, a huge big too human chunk of him aches for the sheriff to grant him access, needs to go inside and see Amelia, confirm with his own two eyes that she really is alive and he has a second chance with her. In truth, he knows he's had too many chances with her already, each of them wasted by his own selfishness, his foolish love for Katherine, and their combined pride.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Sheriff Forbes shakes her head, noticing how Damon is almost shaking right where he's standing. He's hurting, he's in distress, and she really can't afford him facing off with Amelia in this state. Who knows what he might do. "You're too close to this, Damon," she adds, Damon's eyes focusing on her face darkly, rather than remaining nervously downcast.

"Too close?" Damon sneers, his eyes narrowing on her face, and moves even closer to her. The sheriff staggers on her feet, trying to keep her balance. "That little bitch played me," he snaps, pointing at the hallway behind her, his arm hovering over her right shoulder. Is he even aware of how close he is? "I have a right to go in there and look her in the eyes." His blood boils in his veins, and he can tell Sheriff Forbes easily mistakes his anger towards the entire Council for anger towards Amelia. How very convenient, he thinks, how humans almost only see what they want to see.

"I can't do that, Damon, I'm sorry." The sheriff takes a step back. "The mayor has ordered me to keep you out of this."

He'd never credited Mayor Lockwood with an overabundance of brains, but that was a fairly smart move. Damon knows the mayor has been having his suspicions since finding out he and his brother had gotten ill, but luckily his recovery at Amelia's hand had somewhat dissuaded those thoughts. Now, being linked to a vampire yet again, he can certainly understand why the mayor would want him nowhere near Amelia. Damn him. Change of tactic it is. He casts down his eyes again, taking a more than careful step back. "What are—" He lets his voice crack intentionally. "Can you at least tell me what you're planning on doing with her? There's a reason you're keeping her alive."

Sheriff Forbes breathes in calmly. There's no reason why Damon shouldn't know this. When the time comes, they might need him. They will need him. "Jonathan Gilbert thinks she can lead us to the other vampires," she explains. "He thinks it's only a matter of time before they collectively attack, and he wants to be the one to strike first."

"You and your deputies against an army of vampires?" Damon asks. Fools, he thinks, how do they hope to survive that? Even Stefan, Amelia and him together wouldn't be able to stand against them and live. What do they hope Amelia can do for them anyway? Lead them there? Then what? "That's suicide."

"John has a plan," the sheriff assures.

"What plan?" Damon asks strongly, but the sheriff seems instantly reluctant to answer that question. This is however the one part he's interested in. What does Jonathan Gilbert plan on doing once Amelia has located the tomb vampires for her? He needs more information. "Elizabeth..." Damon tries, doing that eye-thing Elena had once accused him of using on his unwitting victims. Normally he uses a much more aggressive tactic if he wants information, like his fangs, but he has to control himself. Stefan hadn't believed he'd be able to.

The sheriff sighs again, but looks away. Maybe he's losing some of his edge. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything more."

"How long?" Damon asks, the sheriff half-turned away from him already. But he needs to know, he needs a timeline. And he needs to buy Alaric as much time as possible to free Amelia; he hopes sincerely that Alaric had gotten past the sheriff's deputies, and that Amelia was already free. He'd wanted to do it himself so badly, see her, be the one to free her, but Alaric had dutifully convinced him that Amelia escaping while he was talking to the sheriff would remove him of all suspicion. They'd agreed to meet back at the house. A plan, yes, but not one he had to particularly like. "When are you moving her?"

"That's for Mayor Lockwood and John Gilbert to decide," the sheriff answers, glancing back at Damon over her shoulder. "Whenever the time, they best decide quickly." Damon looks at her, and frowns. What does she mean? "She hasn't got long," the sheriff says.

Something in Damon's chest breaks.

Part of her is hoping the sheriff doesn't let Damon in; she's afraid of what she might do when she sees him, fangs sliding out and ravenous for a taste of blood, sinking in his skin. She's afraid that Damon might just let her, too. The other, animalistic part of her needs him to walk through that door, and lay everyone that gets in his way to waste. But she can't help but wonder, with the part of her brain that is still functioning and human, whether Damon can ever forgive her for the things she said. Of course she'd spoken truth, so maybe his acceptance is the best she can hope for.

There's a dull thud outside the door, like something hitting the floor; Amelia can hear keys jangling, a key inserted in the lock, and the door opens. Alaric Saltzman ducks in fast and closes the door again behind him. Ironic, Amelia thinks, to be expecting Damon, but getting the history teacher instead. Poetic, Alaric thinks, when he lays eyes on Amelia, bound by ropes like Jesus was nailed to the cross, but he gives himself little more time to ponder it. He knows Damon is distracting Sheriff Forbes downstairs, but he still has to move fast.

"Have you come to gloat?" Amelia sniggers, but is forced to squeeze her eyes shut forcibly; the pain is getting worse.

"I've come to help," Alaric answers, and makes his way towards Amelia. He grabs a knife from his pocket and starts cutting through the ropes at her ankles; he can smell the herbal essence of the vervain, it's unmistakable.

"You've come to break me out?" Amelia stares down on Alaric, surprised and slightly disgusted, because he's part of the reason she's in here in the first place. If he hadn't led Jeremy to the woods, hadn't been so keen on killing Damon – why exactly? – she wouldn't be here now. "You've got to be joking me." Why would he do that now? Alaric is a smart enough man, he has to know that her dying hurts Damon in more ways than his death would. Or maybe that's just her depraved mind speaking.

"You're the only one that can protect this town and keep Damon in check at the same time." Alaric stands up and faces her. He doesn't know if the blood Damon handed him will sufficiently heal her body, or make her strong enough to make it out of here without his aid. But he's fascinated once again to see her alive, to see how she survived a wooden stake. It had seemed impossible, even after seeing it with his own eyes, after hearing from Bonnie there was magic involved. What has his life come to?

"What makes you think I give a damn about this town anymore?" Amelia asks, her words venomous, but she's grateful to feel her legs released, and not a few moments later her waist is free as well. "It's only ever brought me pain and misery." And death; she'd come here once to die. But Mystic Falls had also led her to Damon.

"That's it?" Alaric straightens himself out, and looks at Amelia gravely. He can't tell whether she's being serious or not anymore. If she is, he might as well let her rot here and catch her death. Of course, Damon would kill him if he did that. It's so tempting to leave her here, to watch Damon fall to pieces and yes, gloat, but he can't let this town suffer just because he wants his revenge. Maybe he'll just wait it out then. "You're just going to feel sorry for yourself?" he asks, challenging her pride.

Amelia manages a weak smile, one of her arms released. "You know, Mr Saltzman," she says, "If you hadn't tried to kill Damon, I might actually like you."

Her other arm is released when Alaric cuts it loose and she feels herself hurtling to the floor, but Alaric catches her around the waist easily. He eases her down on the floor, and produces the bag of Damon's blood. Damon had told him vampire blood would do Amelia more good now than any human's; it was stronger, and would heal her faster. Apparently for other vampires, it was an aphrodisiac as well. Damon had over shared. "Here," he hands her the bag, and Amelia takes it greedily. "Will it be enough?"

"To make it out of here," Amelia nods, drinking the blood in big gulps; Alaric has problems watching it. She finishes it in next to no time, but he sees little change in her. "I need some time." Amelia swallows hard, and looks at him, her eyes a dark black. He guesses that whatever effect the blood has, it is yet to kick in. "Go," Amelia mutters, curling into a ball on the floor, hugging her arms tightly around her chest. "If something goes wrong it's best you're not seen with me," Amelia explains, and he feels strangely grateful. He also worries however, for what will happen to the deputies should they find Amelia like this, or cross paths with her on her way out.

"Okay," he still agrees, because Amelia's right; he doesn't want to be associated with any vampires, and he doesn't want to be labelled a sympathizer. God knows what will happen to him if the Council ever did. "I'll be waiting around back in the car."

Amelia watches how Alaric opens the door, looking carefully if the coast is clear, and then he disappears from the room. Her body shakes, waves of warmth spreading throughout her body to which she closes her eyes; this is a moment that needs to be cherished, appreciated, loved. But she realizes she needs it more than ever before; the blood is not enough to restore her fully, but she knows it'll be enough for her to make it out of here. She manages to raise herself on her arms, they shake for a moment, but she finds her balance. She thinks about Damon and how he'll be waiting for her at the house, and Stefan, he'll be just as happy to see her again. The only thing she needs to do is get up and run. Get up and run.

She gets up on unsteady legs, her knees quaking, but a warmth – different from the painful fire that raged before – spreads throughout her as she flexes her muscles. "Amelia," the sheriff's voice is behind her, and she turns in the blink of an eye. The room spins slightly, like it wouldn't have done if she'd been at full strength, but enough to keep her focus. She'll be walking about of this room, of that she's sure.

"I'd love to stay and chat," Amelia says, and rushes towards Sheriff Forbes, pinning her back against the wall hard. The veins in the sheriff's neck pulse and call to her, her fangs sliding out, but she keeps herself from biting down. If she gives in now, she'll kill the sheriff, and that's one thing she can't afford to do. "But—" Amelia stops short when she feels a tiny pinprick in her thigh. The sheriff is holding a syringe; it drops to the floor once it's emptied out. Vervain. Amelia growls, baring her teeth, but finds the strength to just knock the other woman out. She looks down at the sheriff, on the floor now, cursing herself for not having seen the syringe. Starvation has made her slow.

He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently fast, waiting for Amelia to make it out of the building. She hadn't told him how much time she'd need and he had no idea how long it would take either, but he wishes she'd hurry up. It's one thing to help break out a vampire who's pseudo-trust he'd betrayed, but to be waiting here for her, that's risky. He's at the back of the town hall, but anyone could still see him, anyone could connect him to this.

Suddenly, the door of the passenger side opens, and he starts the car because he thinks it's Amelia. Except it isn't.

When she sits down and closes the door, her green eyes are unmistakable. The dark hair, the secret smile. "Hello, Rick," she says, voice exactly the way he had once put it to memory.

"Isobel," he breaths, and blinks. He looks at her closely, then looks again, but he isn't imagining things. He didn't fall asleep and he's not hallucinating; this is his Isobel. "Oh my God. You're..." She's a vampire, he realises, his heart dropping, and he feels queasy. Damon turned her into a vampire? Why? He knows Isobel had always been strangely fascinated by the supernatural, but this? This is going too far. Why hadn't she come to find him before?

"I know," she smiles a devious grin, and he can't in that moment recognise her. This is a creature, not his wife. "What are you doing?" she asks disinterested. "Waiting for someone?" She knows, Alaric thinks, because for some reason he still manages to read her after all these years, she knows that he's waiting for Amelia. But who is Amelia to her?

"I..." he hesitates, but is at a loss for other words.

"Drive," Isobel commands. Alaric obeys.

Jeremy only partially knows what drives him back there. Part of him thinks he's there to see his Uncle John, to ask him for his help, the one father figure left in his life, but how can he face his uncle now, knowing what he has become? is becoming? is? His gums hurt, and he doesn't want to think about how or why, because thoughts like that send his head spinning.

That other part of him, the part that is scaring him senseless at the moment, goes down to the town hall to see Amelia. He blames her, even though he knows that's unjust. He should blame Damon, and maybe that's why he goes to see her instead. She knows Damon, Amelia cares for Damon, but it's more that draws him to her. Amelia had seemed different, somehow, in a way inexplicable to himself right now.

He decides to go around the back, to avoid being detected by the sheriff's deputies or the sheriff herself; they'd recognize his symptoms instantly. The street is abandoned when he gets there, but the back door opens and someone stumbles outside. Amelia. What is she doing? How did she get out? She falls to her knees, crashing to the ground hard, the heel of her boot breaking in the process. What's wrong with her?

Jeremy feels himself rushing over to her involuntarily, drawn to her it seems, like a moth to flames. "Amelia," he says, and grabs her arm. Vervain, he thinks automatically, but he can't be sure about that; Amelia hasn't fed in a few days now, and her wounds still didn't seem healed. What had his uncle been doing to her?

"Jeremy?" Amelia asks, dazed and confused, and she has trouble getting her bearings. She manages to look at Jeremy with great difficulty, but what she sees has her convinced instantly that Damon got himself into more trouble. Jeremy is turning; there's evil crawling beneath the surface of him that's unmistakable to her. Had Damon known he'd be turning Jeremy? No, of course not, Damon had believed her to be dead, there's no way he could have known her blood was in Jeremy's system. This wouldn't end well.

"What's wrong with you?" Jeremy asks. Amelia staggers to her feet, her balance shot again, but she has to get out of sight before the sheriff's deputies realize she's gone, or before the sheriff wakes up. Jeremy helps her up – she's not sure why – and gets her out of the alley. In the next street she crashes down again, and can't find the strength to get up this time.

"Need—" she chokes out, and digs her hands into the soil to keep herself from screaming out and alerting the entire town. Bloody Council, she curses mentally, she should have gotten Stefan and Damon out of here the moment they realized this town still knew about her kind. Now it's far too late.

"Amelia!" Jeremy is still holding her arm, and shakes her. "What do you need?" he asks. He doesn't know why he's so desperate to help her out, but she might just have answers he doubts he'll ever get from Damon. Had Damon even meant to turn him into this... this... monster?

"Damon," Amelia begs with her last breath, and passes out in Jeremy's arms.

so you all know what's coming next chapter, right? REUNION!

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