This is my new account. Most of my stories from here are over there, but they also have some other stories on that site that are pretty good.
archiveofourown users /CelestialHeavens1 /pseuds /CelestialHeavens1
Thanks everyone who read and reviewed. I'm glad you liked them that much.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly, other that my OCs!
Dear Diary,
Three times in two years. That's how much they've moved us around. Now, we're stuck in this one-pony town called Mystic Falls. I almost wonder if it's because of the vampires. About twelve years ago, there was this vampire that went on national television and told the world about vampires and about werewolves. We've been on the move ever since.
I pulled the curtain back on my bed, looking at the clock on my bedside table. In a half hour, maybe less, I would start being compared yet again to my twin, Jennifer. I looked nothing like my twin. My pale eyes were much to blue and my hair is much too dark, almost black, except in the sun when it shows it's actually dark dark brown, and much too straight. Jennifer has curly chocolate waves and hazel eyes. My mom told me that I have my dad's eyes. I haven't seen her in over thirteen years, not since my fourth birthday when she gave me her necklace and her teddy bear.
Mystic Falls knew about vampires before they were out in the open. At least that's what the town's gossip says. They say the mayor's son married a vampire, the sheriff's daughter. We moved into a small, two-story house. It was Victorian style, like most of the other houses around here.
There are more than just vampires out there. I know it. Others do as well. Demons, werewolves, shape shifters, skin walkers, ghosts, djinn, rugaru, zombies, poltergeist, hellhounds, leviathans, doppelgangers, reapers, revenants, kitsune, sirens, shtrigas, vengeful spirits, wendigo, wraith, ōkami, and changeling. They're all real. They all exist. I fight them when I can, to protect my sister, my family. She might not be grateful, but she'll never have to know. She'll never have to know the danger she's in all the time. I taught myself when I was young how to be a hunter. I got into this business for a reason, my family. I'm seventeen, with kills already under my belt. But they never have to know, because I'll never tell.
The two biggest threats in the world: leviathans and vampires. You can kill a vampire easy. Leviathans... not so much.
A sudden tremor ran through my whole body and with a jolt, I was thrown back into the bed as if by some invisible force. The first flash came, a blinding light of a person talking. She was blonde, with bouncy hair, older, pretty. She was in what looked like a hotel room. There was a clock by her table that read six fourteen p.m. Another bright white pulse overtook my vision for a second. I could hear garbled talking, bits of the woman chanting in Latin, screams, a man attacking at her. The man was tall, in his late-teens, his features contorted. I could see others joining, and then an address, 53 was on the door as one of the inhuman creatures walked in. A quick cut to the sign in the front, a sign reading the hotel names with its city. A flash and I jerked back into reality.
Getting up quickly, I closed my journal, grabbing the sketchbook I kept under my pillow and sketching out a rough drawing of the woman, the men, their faces, and the room. I had been having visions since I was little. At first, the doctors, my grandparents, and everyone else thought they were seizures. After vampires became public news, they thought I was possessed. After that, I learned to hide my visions better.
"Izzy!" Jennifer yelled through our shared bathroom door, "Get up." I sighed, tore out my drawing, and stood up.
"I'm up, I'm up," I told her, grabbing on tightly to one of the post of the bed. My head was still foggy, my eyes too sensitive to the light, and my brain felt like it had been split down the center and poured with boiling lava. Moving slowly across the room, I finally reached the bathroom door and open it. She was applying makeup.
I didn't get it with these girls. At every school we went to, the girls all had makeup caked onto their faces. I was not one of them. I had absolutely no desire to look like a Chinese concubine from Disney's Mulan, one of my all time favorite animated Disney classics. I laughed, I cried, I thought it was brilliant. Jenny shook her head at me, rolling her eyes as I padded my way to the shower, letting the water heat up. She left the room, storming out into her bedroom as she shot a glare at me. Not my fault she needed perfect silence to put on her face. Through the water, I could hear her going down the stairs, still upset about that obviously.
Stupid Jennifer, I thought to myself as I stepped into the shower.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was all right looking, a little on the pale side from my vision, but all right. I wasn't beautiful, not in the least the way Jennifer was. Maybe she didn't like that my name was more beautiful. Isobelle Alexia Rosemarie. It sounded like some sort of fairytale name. Jenny wouldn't want it if she knew its origin. Isobel and Isabelle for both of our grandmothers. Isobel had been a vampire and died a little over a decade and a half ago. Isabelle was dead now for some time. Alexia was a friend of my uncle, a good vampire, according to my mom, but she died a while ago. Rosemarie was a friend of my parents. She had taken a werewolf bite for my dad and also died. They were all vampires except for my father's mother. Jennifer hated vampires.
Jenny had left her phone on the bathroom counter again. A text came in from one of the girls she met yesterday. I opened it.
Of course u can hang out w/ us Jenna, but leave that ugly chick from yesterday BEHIND! We don't need her ruining our rep. or urs. ;) NeNe
Anger flooded through me. How dare she say such things about me? She didn't even know me. The mirror and other loose items in the bathroom began to rattle around. I took a deep breath, calming myself. Staring, I looked down at the items.
"No..." the word came out breathy, "No, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening to me." I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing myself to the wall, "It's not."
By the time I got downstairs, dressed in black boots, dark jeans, a dark blue button down, and a leather duster, Jenny had already finished her meager breakfast of a granola bar and an apple because God forbid she actually eat a real breakfast and gain half a pound. I smacked her phone onto the table. "You left this in the bathroom," I told her irritably, pulling one of the same granola bars from the cabinet that normally I'd citizen her about. However, I kept silent about it. My brain was on overdrive, plotting, wondering.
Was I a witch? No, I wasn't. I knew I wasn't. Still, my power didn't come from nowhere. Maybe I could somehow get a hold of my mom if I was. After all, there were witches in the world. Maybe I can find one who'd help me. Maybe they could also help me take control of my visions, instead of the other way around.
"Uh," Jenny said, glancing down at my outfit with disdain, "Someone woke up and thought she could actually pick out her own clothes. Cute," she said snottily in the most sarcastic voice she had.
I smirked at her. "At least this is my real skin color." Then under my breath, I muttered, "Vampie." A vampie was anyone who was a vampire groupie. They wanted to be a vampire's walking blood bag, a happy meal, I always called them. They were the meal and the toy. Being called a vampie was an insult. As my sister scowled at me, I sauntered out.
I took to the street in my boots, coat flapping behind me in the breeze, walking down the road. Only minutes from downtown, I made it there in no time, walking into that bar-slash-hangout place we'd eaten yesterday. I walked up to the bar, plopping down on a stool and observed the honey haired bartender. A name flashed to my mind. Matt.
When I was little, my mom used to come to me in the middle of the night before I turned four, the night I turned four being the last time. She had shown me a picture of her and her friends. There was honey haired Matt, who looked older, but still the same, golden girl Caroline, mocha Bonnie, brown haired Uncle Jeremy, an older man, a teacher at the high school who Mom told me was Alaric Saltzman, Ric for short, my mother's stepfather. There was a dark haired boy with his arms around Caroline, a werewolf named Tyler. In the center of the picture, both smiling was my mom.
She was beautiful, so young and alive and jovial. Jenny was the spitting image of her, other than how curly my sister's hair was. She was standing beside a guy in a black leather jacket, much shorter than mine. He, like me, had dark hair. Mom would never tell me his name. That man was sitting right besides me, looking identical to the man in the picture.
"Give me your best," I told to Matt, the bartender. Liquor was the one thing that was quick to cure the post-vision migraines. Unfortunately, if I drank too much from the liquor cabinet at home, the grandparents might begin to notice.
"You're a kid. Let me see some ID." I pulled out my wallet, pulling out a well made false ID. Alexia Masen, twenty-two. The bartender nodded, turning around to pour me a drink.
"So what's your story?" When I looked at him, it was like he never had spoke. He was just sitting there, calmly drinking some bourbon. He set the empty glass down, singling Matt to come refill it.
"What do you mean?" I asked, somewhat quietly.
"You're here trying to get drunk in the morning. It's not even eight. So something must have happened."
"You don't share a bathroom with my sister in the mornings." He nodded understandingly.
"One of those siblings. Yeah, my little brother kidnapped me and had me compelled." I flinched at the thought. I had never been compelled, but I knew from listening to others that it was a major pain.
"That stinks." He nodded in agreement. He held his hand out to me.
"Damon. Damon Salvatore. That's Matt." Damon, Greek for demon. It seemed almost fitting; he was wearing more black than I. He was a vampire. I didn't know how I knew this, I just did. Yet, his expression didn't match that of a demons or malevolent vampire. He looked heartbroken. Old boyfriend, guy who was in love with her, my mother had never said, never. She had written his name only once on the back of the picture. I don't think she even realized it.
"Isobelle," I told them both.
"You're ID says Alexia," Matt pointed out.
"Alexia Isobelle. What can I say, I like my middle name better." The bartender nodded, placing my glass before me. I took a sip of the liquor, savoring as it burned its way down my throat.
"So," Damon said, turning back to Matt, "are you going to answer my question about where Elena is?"
Elena. It had been a long time since I heard that name. She had been the doppelganger, a supernatural occurrence. No one would say the real reason of why she existed, but everyone knew that she died. How was the real question. Rumors flew all over the place about it. I disliked the attention Jennifer always got and I was always trying to shield her from it. Jennifer is the human doppelganger; I knew it. I had seen Elena's picture- my mother's picture.
"She's dead, Damon."
"So they're true then, the rumors?" Damon asked. I reached into my pocket, searching for money to pay for the drink and coming across a picture instead, the picture I had recognized Matt and Damon from. I had the picture memorized, so I slapped it down under a twenty and rushed out of there. I had one last errand I needed to run before school.
"Hello, nine-one-one. What is your emergency?"
I took a breath, doing my best to sound helpless and scared. "I-I heard some men talking. Their faces looked weird. I-I think they were vampires. They were talking about killing this woman... um... at the Hearth and Home Inn, just outside Mystic Falls, in room fifty-three. They said something about six p.m." I let out a chocked sob. "I don't know what to do?"
"Miss, are you in a safe spot?"
"Y-Yes."
"Okay, don't worry. We'll send help to this woman. Can you get out of there safely?"
"I-I t-think so."
"Good. Now get somewhere public or go to your home and don't let anyone in. We appreciate your tip." I waited a moment before hearing the telltale dial tone to know that the operator had hung up. Then, with a flick of my coat, I turned and began walking. I was going to be late for school.
History. I had always loved history. Until Jennifer sat down right in front of me with some of her bimbo friends. Lame, bimbo friends who had enough makeup on to cover the world in a cloud of dust. In a way, I was glad my sister used so much makeup. Most people wouldn't recognize her as the doppelganger.
The history teacher taught another class, Vampire Protection and Supernatural Awareness. It was taught by Mr. Saltzman, or should I say Step-Grandpa? Both of the classes were. All of us had him for our mandatory class that took the place of P.E. in most cases. I had decided to take P.E. and this, considering I had finished all my math and English credits the previous year. VPSA, as the class was shortened, came first for us, Jennifer and I.
"Compulsion," he said, writing the word on the board, "What does it mean?" A blonde in the front row raised her hand. "Yes?"
"Compulsion is where vampires force you to do their will." It was sort of a textbook answer. Everyone painted vampires as the bad guys. I knew that wasn't the case. They felt things. Most of the time.
"That's correct," he told the girl before turning back to the class, "So today, we have an old friend of mine here. She is a vampire and she offered to help you guys learn how to block compulsion. Her father had successfully mastered the technique before he died." Because that's a comforting thought. "So who wants to go first?" No hands rose into the air. He looked down at the list. "How about one of our new students?" His brow furrowed at our names and I shrugged, standing.
"Sure, I'll go." The vampire, a peppy looking blonde, grinned. She too I recognized from the picture which was now in the possession of either Matt Donovan or Damon Salvatore. Caroline Forbes the girl's name was.
"Great. Come on up here." I walked to the front of the room, looking at her. She looked into my eyes. "What's your name?"
Pick the first thing that comes to mind, my subconscious whispered to me. "Katherine." She blinked, taken off guard.
"Katherine?" she asked before looking at the teacher. Finally, she looked back at me. "Who is the other new student?"
"Katerina, Katrina, Kathy, Kate, Kathleen, Katelyn, Kat, Karina, Karen, -"
"Ha ha," she interrupted me. "Those are all just forms of Katherine." I shrugged.
"My sister has lots of multiple personalities she brings along with her everywhere," I pretended to confide in her, looking rather smug.
"Uh huh." I smirked. "Take off your necklace. It has vervain in it," she declared, "And that's cheating." I shrugged, taking it off and setting it onto the teacher's desk, before walking back and standing before her, looking her straight in the eyes.
"Ask away, Miss Forbes." She stiffened.
"How did you know my name?" she compelled, only I didn't feel the need to answer her.
"Because I'm awesome like that," I replied cockily in the same monotone voice that I had heard others use under compulsion.
"Are you a witch?" My brows furrow as I looked at her incredulously.
"Do I look like a witch to you?"
"Fine," she wrinkled her nose, "none of the witches I know would wear a jacket like that."
"It cost me a fortune to get," I shot back, defending my duster. No one seemed to understand a good leather coat anymore. "Besides, all the other jackets at the store were just ugly."
"What are you then?"
"Why don't you tell me?" I rolled my eyes when she stuttered, turning back to the desk to grab my necklace, only to find Mr. Saltzman staring at it.
"Where did you get this? Did you steal this?"
"Listen, no, Ric, may I call you, Ric?" I brushed my hair back behind my ear, "A human vampire hunter teacher plus gaudy ring equals... Rupert Giles. So Ripper," I said, adopting the English accent used by Ethan Rayne on Buffy, "what is your interest in my necklace? Some sort of amulet that's gonna close the Hellmouth?"
"Huh?" he asked, looking up at me confused. I shook my head.
"I've had that necklace next to my entire life. It's mine."
"Caroline," he said to the vampire, ignoring what I had said, "Haven't you seen that necklace before?"
Caroline's eyes narrowed at it, then at me, then back at it. The class was silent, watching our confrontation. She took the necklace, ignoring the vervain, and stared at it. "This was Elena's." She declared. I didn't stiffen. I was a warrior, whether anyone chose to see it or not, and a direct link to whatever higher power there was. I had trained myself, taught myself all I needed to know to protect my sister from anyone and anything coming after the doppelganger. "When did you steal it?"
"I already told you I didn't steal it." Her hand came up around my throat, slamming me into the wall.
"When did you steal it from her, you little thief? Tell me the truth, darn it!"
I didn't answer. I reached a hand up to her arm, the one that had me by the throat, and flipped her onto the ground using all my strength in my one arm. Jennifer had been interested in ballet when she was a child. I used to go to the martial arts school beside the ballet studio and the master there taught me. When we moved, his school casually appeared beside where she was learning ballet. Soon, I learned why. He was a vampire, an old one, comfortably in his six hundreds. He posed no threat to my sister's safety, however, and even said he had no interest in the problems that the vampires of the west had created for themselves.
A year ago, I went to the school to find his gray corpse with a stake sticking out of it and a vampire hunter over my master's dead body. He had told me I had strength, that I was more than just human. And I was. A year ago, I killed a demon for the first time. I had salted and burned the corpse of the exorcised demon. Then I took my master's body into the sun, pulled the stake out, took off his ring, and let him become ashes in the wind.
As my blood pressure rose, the pencils in the cup began to rattle. "Miss FitzGerald," came Alaric sharp tone, snapping me back, "Sit down." My eyes flashed at him, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I needed to calm down. I didn't want them to know. They couldn't know. The pencils settled and Alaric glanced down at them, his brow furrowing in confusion. I clasped my necklace back around my throat as I headed to my seat and sat down. My sister glanced back at me in disgust, then turned away. I couldn't let it bother me.
I had come to the restroom for peace. My head was killing me, the result of a mini-vision that had me stopping a guy at lunch from stabbing another guy. On top of that, I kept hearing voices of people that weren't there. I had hoped that in the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom, I might stop hearing the voices and their never-ending conversations. Peace, however, was not what I found here as I heard the door open.
"So, Jenna, what is wrong with your sister?" I overheard one of the girls in her little group as my sister from my hiding spot in the bathroom stall. I couldn't go out there to lunch. My head hurt and I was really hungry.
"She's a freak," Jenny confided in them, "I don't think she's even really my sister. More like some charity nutcase." The girls all laughed. I pressed my lips shut, closing my eyes tight as I sat on the toilet seat lid, my backpack on the stall door. "Did you see that outfit she was wearing? She thinks she's so special."
"Any dirt on her?"
"She used to, like, completely spaz out. Seizure or something, but she'd yell and scream and thrash around, and so finally, my grandparents brought in some mythic healing person, and they de-possessed her. She hasn't had a spaz out since." Oh, if only she knew how wrong she was.
"Did you see the way she flipped Caroline Forbes?" a British accent asked, "Now there's a girl I wouldn't mind getting to know."
"Who are you?" one of Jenny's friends asked her.
"I'm Rebekah. I'm new," the British girl replied.
"Obviously, otherwise you would've known that you don't talk with us," another answered. I pulled my bag off the door, reaching for the lock.
"You're a freak just like Jenna's sister!" one of the girl's exclaimed. I leaned against the outside of the stall.
"Hey now, that's not very nice. Don't pick on the new girl. Not all of us can be so daft and homely as you bunch." One of the simpler girls cooed at that.
"Aww, she's so sweet." Jenny rolled her eyes.
"That wasn't a compliment just then," the British girl told them. Rebekah had blonde hair and brown eyes. She was lovely. And she didn't like Caroline either. Pity... for Caroline. But I could see into her, past her exterior. She was a vampire. One of Jenny's new friends was a werewolf; I could see that too. "Isobelle, was it?" she asked and I gave a slight nod. "Well come on then. Let's see what my brothers can't make of you."
I stepped back, smiling at the vamp. "Well, I'd love to, really, but I have to go." With that, I turned and strolled out of the restroom, black duster trailing behind me, boot heels clicking on the tile floor, and walked into the sunshine.
I did say this was a sort of crossover with Supernatural.
How does everyone like Isobelle, the teenage hunter with superpowers? In my first draft of this chapter, she was a vampire-werewolf-human hybrid that had visions and could compel people, so she was like 45% vampire, 25% werewolf- 25% human, 5% other, but I thought that was kind of cheesy. Plus, the 5% other, I'd be rewriting the 1860s with Damon and Stefan there and I didn't feeling like doing that in this story. :)
And Rebekah, forever a student... I bet she'd be really angry if Caroline was the TA and she was only the student.
7 reviews to next chapter.
Have a happy Thanksgiving!