Due to the fact that I'm writing so many drabbles - that I don't reread or beta - I've gotten quite used to publishing stuff as soon as possible. I do not want to do that with my fanfiction, this is the place where I want to offer quality. Yesterday night I tried to upload the new chapter without having worked on it sufficiently enough. Thankfully my beta stopped me from updating the chapter in its raw form. I promise quality and punctuality from now on :) thank you for reading and all the nice messages asking about Long December. I'm pretty dedicated to this story and it makes me happy to see people like it.

6. Roadtrip

Back at home she took a few water bottles into the shower and washed off the dirt and the blood. There was still vervein in the water. She changed into dark jeans, knee-high light boots and a lacey top, then she curled her hair to perfection and applied some dark makeup and red lipstick.

Next she packed up everything she needed, taking as little as possible. Her curling iron, most of her makeup, bathroom necessities, the money her mother kept in her nightstand drawer, a shovel for future body disposal purposes. As for clothes, she left behind most of the new style of tops she had recently taken a liking to, which screamed innocence and 'nice girl'. Instead she went for the more showy and suggestive stuff, even pulling out things she'd bought but never worn before. They had been meant for a special occasion with Tyler that never came. When she was done packing she took her bags into her car and decided to send the Salvatores a message.

She opened the cabinet in which the Forbes family kept its alcohol. She took out a few bottles of wine that her mother used to drink alone at the rare instance that she had a night off and relaxed on the sofa. Only a few months ago Caroline had started to take a seat beside her and the both of them actually had some mother-daughter-time. She also took out a bottle of Tequila that was already open. She had kept it for a special occasion, too. She started spilling it all over the house, being particularly thorough in her own bedroom.

The prospect of what she was about to do filled her with excitement. She had already had her taste of the beauty of destroying something once dear to her when she had ended Elena. It was an ecstatic sensation; it created a feeling of power, of independence. It reminded her of the change itself, it was as if the part that was gone, destroyed, obliterated created a space that allowed the rest of her to grow bigger. She stood in the contrast of what she had lost and chuckled. No, the grey was gone, but this time she was in the black instead of the light.

She got a lighter and looked around her room, deciding where she should start.

A smile spread on her face when another piece of the puzzle slid right into place.

She opened her nightstand drawer, took out the picture Klaus had drawn for her and lit it on fire. Mesmerized she watched it burn and then let it fall, right into the pool of alcohol on her bed.

For a moment she watched the fire spread. Her bed was a pool of fire, it burned and sizzled and she felt the dangerous heat radiating onto her skin. She hadn't known fire actually made noises like that.

It made its way through the room, an unstoppable force of nature, and claimed her wardrobe, her vanity, her desk. Along with that it burned every memorabilia, all her school work, every document she kept about the countless committees and charities she had put so much work in. Tyler's bracelet, her scrapbooks with photos of her time with Bonnie and Elena in it, the crown Elena had put on her head on her birthday, Klaus' dress, her mobile phone, the little presents she had kept in memory of her father.

It meant nothing to her. In fact, by burning it, in some way she made it important. For a fleeting moment all of it lived again, screaming with the voice of the flame, turning into red and orange and blue and finally smoke until it would be ultimately and irrevocably gone.

She stood engulfed in the beauty of transience, mortality, enforcing the reality that she herself was none of these things.

Then she turned around and left the house and drove off.

It was two a clock in the morning now. A few towns away she stopped at the side of the road, got out of her car and waited for someone to drive by. She hid behind her car, invisible to anybody passing by, watching.

She only had to do so for a few moments, then she was lucky. A black Toyota drove towards her, about one or two years old, she estimated. Seemed to be in good condition.

There was a man behind the wheel. She wanted to find out who he was, easy to read or maybe even a tad bit interesting.

She stepped out from behind her car and waved, a slightly desperate expression painting her face.

He stopped, parking a few meters away from her. He got out of his car. She smiled an exhausted smile, keeping her body language that of a damsel in distress.

"Thank you so much. My car broke and I don't know how to get home."

He returned the smile and approached her. The way he walked suggested he was nothing special. "No problem, I could take a look at it if you don't mind."

He was middle aged with dark hair, average looking and obviously not too unhappy with the prospect of helping a pretty blonde little thing. He wasn't a predator though, she could see it in his eyes and in the way he carried himself. Maybe he was just a loser with some brain hidden behind the façade of boring. She noticed a pack of Marlboros in the pocket of his jacket.

Suddenly he turned towards her, his eyebrow hitched.

"You shouldn't be out alone that late, you know? It's dangerous."

Well, wasn't that a nice little invitation. Not yet, though.

She ignored his words (always a good trick, turns the person you're talking to into an unnerved wreck if you do it often enough). Instead she nodded her head into the direction of the cigarettes, leaning back on the car.

"Can I have one?"

He frowned, then nodded, taking out the packet and pulling out two cigarettes. He handed her one and then leaned in to light it. Slowly she raised the cigarette to her mouth, parting her lips sensually as she put it in her mouth. Then the lighter went on and she stared down at the fire as it started to burn.

She'd smoked before, once.

Now she was a vampire, it couldn't kill her. She frowned, wondering why she hadn't had that idea before then took a deep breath of the smoke, sliding down to the ground, leaning her head back on the car.

He was watching her and his gaze almost tickled her skin as she let the smoke hover out of her mouth. Beautiful.

He was a chicken. She could read it in the way he moved, in his eyes. When confronted with a challenge he'd back out and leave the job to others.

"What's your job?" she asked, turning her head upwards to him, still leaning on the side of the car.

He sat down beside her, frowning, keeping his distance.

"I study, actually. Medicine."

So he was smart. At least chances were higher. Yes, she'd have cracked him soon.

"Why?" she asked, taking another drag of the cigarette.

He lighted one for himself.

"I want to help people," he answered.

It seemed genuine. Still, she needed to test him. "Oh come on," she grinned. "You just want the money?"

He shook his head. "No, really. Maybe I'll go to Africa or something."

She took another drag of the cigarette.

"And you think they deserved to be helped. People, I mean."

He frowned. "Of course, I mean… "

She laughed. "Sometimes I think all of human kind is fucked up. I mean, look at the world we live in. We all stay in our own personal bubbles to be able to stand it."

He looked at her, impressed. Ugh. Okay. Not that smart then. He'd fall for the whole teenage-angst thingy.

"Yes, but I think beyond that there definitely is something good. Something we all have in common. I want to help people find that."

Cracked.

Boring as hell. She could tell somewhere behind the façade of humbleness he thought of himself as being pretty deep. And he was anything but.

She took another final drag of the cigarette.

"You know," she said, leaning back into the car again. "You're a disappointment."

She saw the shock spread on his face, followed by anger. "What?"

"You're a fucking dimwit. The world is better off without you," she said, her tone icy.

He was overwhelmed, obviously angry but too chicken to do anything about it.

"So easy to read," she sighed, shaking her head.

Then, one second to the next she pressed the cigarette butt onto his hand, holding it in an iron grasp. He screamed out in pain, trying to rip his hand from her grasp but it was hopeless.

She smiled, watching him squirm. "What the fuck!" he shouted and she simply cocked her head to the sight, feigning an expression of innocence.

"Something the matter, dude? How about that nice bubbly good we have in common, in the center of our being. Seriously, you think you're deep? You're a fucking potato."

He stared down at her hands, shocked. He tried to comprehend how she could possibly be physically stronger than him.

She kept the sweetest smile on her face as she let the blood rush to her eyes and slightly opened her mouth to let him see her budding fangs.

Horror painted his face. It was a rush, really. Before every cell in her body would have told her to stop. When she still had had her emotions. Because she would have been afraid of his reaction. Because she wouldn't have wanted to hurt him.

Now there was nothing, a comfortable emptiness that quickly filled with the excitement of seeing it in his eyes, the fact that he still couldn't accept or believe the fact that he was going to die. She held it in his hands, this life, and she knew what went through his mind.

She knew he put all he had in it, every ounce of energy, adrenaline, supposed intelligence, his whole body was working full force to keep him alive.

And yet, he would die. This whole little universe before her was gonna be erased from the surface of this world just because she wanted it to be.

Then, abruptly, her fangs were buried in his neck and she was sucking viciously and mercilessly. He let out a strangled scream and she could picture the expression on his face as she drained the life out of him. No, keep conscious. She remembered. She remembered it vividly. And for some perverse reason it made it so much better.

He was out in a few seconds. Swiftly she pulled away, changed her face back and broke his neck in one clean motion.

He was lying on the ground, the cigarette falling out of the grasp of his limp fingers.

"You know, I could have compelled you to be happy for the rest of your life," she purred.

She placed his body and the cigarette butts in the trunk of her car, put her bags into his and drove her own car deep into the woods, ensuring it wouldn't be found anytime soon. She took out the money, the cigarettes and the lighter from his purse and buried his body a few miles away from her car.

Then she rushed back to the car that was now hers and drove on.

She stopped in the next town at a bank and withdrew as much money as she could from both her own and her mother's account. Afterwards she threw away the credit cards, her phone had burned with her house – she needed to cover her tracks. She turned on the music she'd brought into the car, lit herself another cigarette and started driving again. She wouldn't stop until she reached New Orleans.

When she arrived morning broke.

Her old self would have ignored the fact that driving that long bored her, would have put it back in place with all the other things she suppressed. Now she was just slightly pissed. As pissed as her general lack of emotion allowed. She wanted to make another kill. In fact she'd had it planned since the moment she'd turned it off.

She parked near the French quarter and went straight into a bar.

It was almost empty, dark and small. It gave about an air of quiet desperation, only the ones who didn't have anywhere else to go to went here.

She saw the heads turning when she walked in and strangely enough, she didn't care at all. Back when she had her emotions on she'd feel giddy and excited about that in secrecy but right now there didn't seem to be anyone in the room worth giving a damn about.

There was one guy, however, who didn't seem that unattractive. She stopped and looked him up and down. He had dark, disheveled hair and was dressed in a black chemise and a pair of black jeans as well as some rather expensive looking shoes. He was sulking over his drink.

He had high cheekbones and greenish eyes. He reminded her of Damon.

Good enough.

She walked towards him, a bright smile on her face, and sat down beside him.

He raised his head and she saw a flicker of surprise and then appreciation in his eyes as he checked her out. He tried to hide it.

She checked, she could hear a heartbeat.

"Hi," he said, cocking up his eyebrows, obviously expecting her to explain herself.

Not that much of a chicken this time.

She cocked her head to the side, smiling at him. Then her pupils dilated.

"How do you live? A house, an apartment?"

His eyes had gone vacant instantly. "I have an apartment."

"Do you live alone?"

"Yes."

Good. "Is there any chance of anyone coming by today?"

"No."

Basic requirements were met. She thought for a moment.

"Are you gay?"

"No."

"Are you good in bed?"

"I've been told so, yes."

She reached for his drink, not breaking the compulsion as she took a sip.

"Tell me the deepest thing you can think of. Tell me about yourself."

"Happiness is a choice. I know – sounds stupid, but I've been there. Hell, I am there. Except if you're like clinically depressed, you know, I guess it comes down to pills then. But for the rest of the people there comes a point in life where you have to choose the world or yourself. Most nice people choose the world. All the assholes choose themselves. You get to be happy if you're an ass and I've tried but I just can't do it. Threw away my career, broke up with my girlfriend, fucked with my family until they sent me to hell – I did it all. Even drugs don't work. The alcohol just makes me upset and still I try and try again. Shit is fucked up. But I know I'm gonna get out eventually. I'm not gonna let them win."

She raised her eyebrows. She could see exactly at which point he was stuck, which words he needed to hear to get him out of there, how to present them to him so that they hit home.

She wouldn't even have to compel him.

She drank out his glass in one huge gulp and then compelled him again.

"You're gonna take me to your apartment now and then we'll see if the girls lied to you in order to make you feel good about yourself."

He had a small but cozy place and he was obviously very messy. Beneath the superficial disorder though, there was a structure. He had once had this room cleaned up, every little thing placed in its own personal spot. She saw books on the floor, philosophy, literature, dark stuff. Comics, underwear, notebooks.

He placed her luggage in the living room. She grabbed his collar and ripped his head towards hers, her pupils dilating again. "You're gonna have a shower now."

When he was gone she fixed herself a small meal and then left the dishes in the sink.

It felt good to be rid of that neurotic cleanliness complex. A day ago she would have been all over the place, cleaning. A day ago she wouldn't have been here, at all.

When she had eaten she took of her shoes and lay down on the bed, crossing her feet in a comfortable position.

He returned and looked at her, frowning, as if he wasn't sure how she'd gotten there.

"Come here," she answered, motioning for him to sit down beside her.

"What you don't see is that you can choose the people you spend your time with. It's a common mistake, you judge the whole world from what you personally experienced. There are people out there that fit your needs perfectly, good people that have still managed to choose themselves over the world. You just have to find them and you can be who you want to be. You're not lost, you're on the right way. You just have a little of the way left to go. The worst is behind you."

She leant forward, he was staring at her eyes wide and brows furrowed. She smiled.

"Let in the emptiness, it's the only way to feel again."

He gulped, brows furrowing even more, obviously thinking about what to possibly answer her.

You think you know me. You don't have any idea, marching in like this and trying to tell me what to do.

But if she disappeared right after, she would remain the mysterious angel that made him see the light. Because it would stick to his brain like gum, like sand in the clockwork, slowly being worked through the system until it came out again, as a realization, an epiphany.

Then, her face hardened and her pupils dilated again, catching his.

"Undress."

She watched him and then, quickly, before he was done, undressed herself in vampire speed.

He looked at her, shock in his eyes. He was really helpless, it amused her so much that she let out a giggle, her pupils dilating again.

"You're going to fuck me now. As good as you can. No kissing. You won't stop when I bite you."

He moved towards the bed, suspicion and a hint of terror in his eyes. He knew something was wrong but he couldn't quite grasp it. It was hilarious to watch.

He crawled on top of her, his breath heavy as his eyes revealed the battle he was fighting inside.

Then he entered her and she moaned slightly, enjoying the feeling.

He started moving, first slow and sensually, then faster and harder.

It was okay, although not really all that awe inspiring. Humans.

So after a while of lying back and thinking of England she simply turned them around and did the job herself. He did his best to take up with her, his eyes now clouded by lust. Yet she could still see the confusion in them. He was a fighter. She liked that.

But unfortunately not really that good in bed.

She rolled her eyes and lowered her hand between them, stroking herself.

Then she licked her lips, closed her eyes.

She remembered the sex she'd had with Tyler, it had been good sex, fueled by their supernatural hormones, wild and untamed. But somehow he'd started to bore her in the end. Thankfully most of the time they'd been busy missing each other because they had to be apart, but when he'd been there it had slowly turned into a disappointment.

She thought of Klaus. She'd seen him shirtless back then, and sweaty. She could vividly remember his scent, hanging in the air. The taste of his blood. Better than anything she'd tasted before.

The way he spoke, the way he moved. Yes, he'd be good in bed.

She tried to imagine it and let out a moan.

It was liberating, really, after all that time of denying herself. She laughed.

She'd break him, too. She knew how. She'd break the unbreakable man and have him kneel down at her heels. But no matter what she would do, there would always be defiance in his eyes, untamed anger, and intimidating air hanging around him.

And she loved it, loved his darkness, his ruthlessness, his sharp tongue and his merciless voice.

The way he'd looked at Tyler when he'd refused to heal her, despite everything that Tyler offered. It made her body tingle in anticipation.

She felt herself coming and she leaned in and in one swift gesture she buried her fangs in his neck, feeling the high rush over her double time as she sucked him dry until he stopped moving. He didn't scream, he growled. There was something likeable in him, he was an interesting guy.

Kill the light.

Then she rolled to the side, taking a moment to come down her high, grabbing the packet of cigarettes she'd placed nearby and lighted it while licking the excess blood off her lips.

"Well, that was lame," she sighed, pushing him down the bed and onto the ground in one swift motion.

He lay there, barely conscious.

"How about you lie there and die a bit while I take a shower?" she asked him rhetorically, taking a drag.

A rattle came out of his throat that could roughly be interpreted as 'bitch'.

She smiled. "I see, you got the whole choosing who you hang out with thingy. Too bad you don't always have a choice." She turned towards him, staring down at him innocently.

Despite the state he was in, the fire was still vividly burning in his eyes that were about to fall shut.

"You're going to die," she said, her voice matter-of-factly.

She could see it in his eyes, the realization of what her words meant.

One second it looked as if he was pleading but then his eyes hardened again and she could see the hatred in him. She smiled.

"You see, being an asshole isn't all that hard."

Then her hand reached off the bed, to his head, and in one swift motion she broke his neck.

Then she went to her bags, took out her bathroom equipment and took a long, hot shower.

Then she went back to bed and fell asleep immediately. It had been a long night.