Chapter 7 - "A Drop Of Whiskey, Or Two..."

Elena's POV

I can accept the fact that the world is a much more mysterious place than I ever thought possible. But even this shouldn't be possible. Walking into the Grille just then, it was as though I was given a clean slate. Who knew doorways could be so profound and stand for so much? Here's what I know. I am human, well, I was. Either way, the Elena I knew was never going to do what Tatiana told me. No matter who she threatened. Stefan always questioned why I try so hard to save everyone else, whilst I never questioned why everyone tried so hard to save me. The clarity I now felt hit me like a waterfall, each droplet of water purifying my corrupted brain. They always saved me because there was something worth saving. If I did this now...

I may as well be dead to them. Damon included.

"No."

"Excuse me? I do not think I quite understand."

"I said," Each word is supported by a step backwards, towards the door. And away from Tatiana. Only I know my legs shake. My arm reaches far enough to make my back click. The metal handle behind me is inches from my fingertips. Just one more second, one more word and I can escape. What was I thinking? There was no way the Old Elena would ever trust Katherine over Stefan, Damon, her family; Katherine who killed everyone in the Church in 1864, who killed Caroline when she was human, who manipulates and ticks just to get what she wants. And from what she hears, Tatiana may as well be the Evil Blood Queen of the Petrova orgy. My chest puffs up like a tiger cub learning to growl. The comparison doesn't much help my courage but the decision has been made. I repeat myself, "I said, no."

Success. Tatiana's eyelashes flicker as she surveys my body, reading and analysising something invisible to myself. Too bad she can't she through me - then she would know. One vamp-speed move and I would be out of there. But something stops me.

Tatiana starts to laugh.

It's my voice. I haven't laughed like that for... years. Not since even before my parents died. A deep, true and honest sound of childish play and joy. I recoil from the sound of it and my muscles spasm away from the coolness of the door handle; away from freedom. Images flash before my eyes. The Grille and Tatiana slip away. Reality replaced.

Instead, I see Jeremy and Damon playing video games, pushing and cheating against eachother. Jeremy smiling. Bonnie rushing into the room and her small body obviously relaxing at the sight of us all. I can feel fingers in my hair, tenderly styling with such an expert skill that I don't even have to look to know. Caroline sits behind me on the sofa as she gossips about other cheerleaders on our squad. Bonnie joins me on the floor, where I realize I am now sat, cross-legged because my thighs are throbbing. Us girls are wearing our skimpy blood-red cheerleader outfits. Today was the day we were first able to do a human pyramid without breaking any nails. My stomach rumbles loudly and everyone in the room turns to look at me. Smiling.

Falcon and contract hands grip my closed eyes. I can't see this. No. No. Make it stop. Someone make it stop. Please.

"Everyone hungry? Made the famous Salvatore -" Stefan's voice rings in to us from the kitchen along with the sweet, delicious smell of...

"- Chilli? Oh, gimme a break, brotha." Damon snorts but pauses the game, much to Jeremy's annoyance. Well, his cursing. But it quickly stops. Everyone in the living room sneaks glances at eachother and soon they are rushing as one mass into the kitchen. They are all hungry after their hard days of work and school. I push into the make-shift queque for food in front of Bonnie, plate and fork at the ready. Everyone is silent. One by one, Stefan scoops equal portions into each bowl. When it's my turn, I sneak a glance downward and can't help but smirk.

"Nice, err, apron."

"You can read Elena," Stefan smiles. It's one of those smiles you read about in books, see in movies. The ones where you can see their smile reach into their soul. Possessing your soul. His eyes are starting to get wrinkled at the corners, but I know I love it anyway. My body leans forward and, just as the apron commands, kisses the chef.

Elena. Stop.

Make. It. Stop.

"Thanks, Chef. Where's Matt?"

"He'll be here soon. Just helping coach pack the kit away," Tyler grumbles as he enters the room. Caroline jumps up from the kitchen table, abandoning the no-doubt succulent Chilli, to kiss his cheek. Her face sticks in a grimace when her lips retreat. He's still sweating from the football game. I laugh.

"Elena. Elena. No."

I can't make it stop. The laughing. This is what could have been. This is what my broken, little family would be if it wasn't for me. It's not Tatiana laughing anymore, it's me. Me. The girl having a mental breakdown worthy of the Schizophrenic Ward. The girl quivering in the fetal position with her Doppelganger double over her, screaming. Tatiana's face is wet and cratered. She shakes me, shaking away the ghosts that dance around me.

"My poor baby, Elena. I need you. We all need you. I can't do this with just that harpy Katarina." She hissed. Her forceful hands vice grip my shoulders. I could no longer control my body. My eyes catch vague glances of a crowd around me. "You are my flesh and blood. My kin. It is only honorable we three avenge our family. Together. The Mikaelsons deserve to die a painful death and trapped forever in Purgatory. They are our family curse. An eight labor of Hercules. I need you to do this, just this once. I need you at full strengh."

I may as well have never felt that clarity a few moments before. My judgement and vision become clouded. She was right, and I was wrong. My family, the Petrovas, are cursed forever because the Original family were greedy. The witches claim to be servants of nature, keeping the balance. Where were they when we needed them? The Petrovas only had each other now. I stop shaking. I see the truth at last. Tatiana stands, a smug smile upon her taunt lips. Her tears are long since dry.

"Give me some space."Speaking loud, I address the milling crowd of worried Grille customers around me.

"Excuse me, Miss Snark. We're worried about you." A big burly guy at the outer edge of my crowd snaps. Someone forgot their coffee this morning. Or maybe I interrupted his daily coffee boost of Being A Nice Person. He has beard, a big fluffy beard. I don't like it. He could be handsome, he has somewhat of a nice face but his scowl make him ugly. And his delightful beard...

"I woke up this morning to learn that all of my family has been cheated. I've earned snarky."

"You were having a fit, dude." He flips a finger at me as though I was being rude. I begin to tire of him and glance at Tatiana. She raises her eyebrows like a regal queen, giving me permission to do what she had commanded earlier. This would be fun. The people in the crowd look to me with blank and bleak faces. Lambs to slaughter. They listen as I confess.

"It's about time that I accept the person that I am now and figure out a way...to start expressing myself. I used to write in a diary. That didn't work. So now, I think I'll take a leaf from the Damon Salvatore vampire hand book; get angry, make a mess and do something stupid. It sounds fun doesn't it?"

Closest to me, a woman of the inner circle squeaks. Smart one. I stand and smile sweetly. People used to say I looked like an Angel, but I prefer Avenging Angel. If what Tatiana said was true and the only way to find my inner fire was to murder a large amount of people... I am willing. My brother and I killed thousands of vampires to dispose of Kol Mikaelson. I can kill a couple of hundred people to get rid of the Mikaelson family, right?

I am a vampire.

"And I do what I want now."

I sense Tatiana acting as my shadow. It gives me strength beyond imaginable. I rock back on my heels before propelling myself through the air and into the slow, human crowd. Their rapid pattering heart beats give a musical feel to the moment. The infinite. My fangs retract. The crowd scream. A woman falls to the ground, slipping in slapper heels, and Tatiana in on her in seconds. Her fangs gleam by the flickering light of the central fire-place. Her eyes catch mine and I see nothing but ecstasy there. I want that but I have no idea what to do. Watching Tatiana's movements, I realize she resembles a jaguar. Shoulders jutted and bare, bent over slightly with legs apart. Secure. Natural. A predator. The others try to flee, squawking their ways to the doors. All attempts at loyalty to friends, family and love abandoned when faced with the prospect of death; pity. The blundering waiters and waitresses of the Grille duck behind the bar at the far end. My legs begin to take me there - blood and bourbon sounds like a luscious prospect - when I see it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a beard.

Soon, the beard does not have a body.