A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome back. I suppose my initial intention of one chapter every week was a bit too optimistic, but I've got everything back on schedule again, I think I might get back into it. As for all of you who took the time to comment and support this story, I'd like to thank you. Your support means a lot to me.

As for everyone clicking on this story for the first time; welcome. I hope you'll enjoy the ride.

This story was beta'd by HPuni10

o.O.o

Chapter Sixteen, The Witches Sign

Perhaps it was luck that had me running into Luka Martin only a day later. It was a dreary day, the lantern lights making the pavements shine beneath the pale mist of rain. Dark and stormy, the grey swirling clouds promised a heavy downpour and I slammed the car door, unfolding my umbrella.

I was making my way up onto the schoolyard, when I recognized him, looking around with a rather lost expression on his face. I wondered if my face had lit up as if Christmas came early when I made my way over, calling out for him, only remembering a moment later that I wasn't really supposed to know him at all.

"Ah—" he gasped when his dark eyes landed on me, "—you're Elena."

"I, yes," I agreed. "So you and your dad live here now?"

He looked exactly as in the show, boyish with a shaved head and large front teeth. Much like his father and most of the Vampire Diaries male characters his choice of wardrobe consisted out of dark clothes. Dark slacks with a matching dark Metallica shirt and a hoodie. To me, it looked like he was underdressed for the late autumn day, even if the Virginia weather was often forgiving.

"Yes," he agreed, "stationing here seems like a good idea."

"I wish I could agree with you on that," I mumbled and he sniggered.

"Yeah, the animal attacks hm?"

"Yup," I agreed, mustering up a friendly smile as he held the door open for me. We slipped inside the school. The linoleum floors were gleaming, already darkened with dirt and mud and I nibbled on my lower lip, wondering how I would lead the conversation to Klaus and all the meddlers that lived in Mystic Falls.

"Elijah said you've been through a lot and that you needed us to watch you," he told me drolly.

"Elijah is starting to act like my father," I remarked.

"It's because you're so young," Luka admitted and flushed, "I overheard him and dad on the phone."

I really didn't understand that. Elijah had had no problem offering up Elena Gilbert in the original timeline, although, that had already been a hardened version of the girl I was. That was the girl who'd thrown a vervain bomb in Elijah's face while I had been wistfully unprepared when meeting him.

A meeting I had set up myself. I wondered if that was the reason why Elijah allowed me to go home again. Perhaps, he'd looked at my terrified face, at the make-up, that had been just a tad too much to look like Katherine and considered me nothing more than a kid playing dress-up with her mother's clothes.

"Do you think I can come over with you?" I asked, pushing the words forward the same way I handled removing a bandaid. I ripped it off at once. "I mean, things have changed a bit, people I didn't want to be involved have made it their business to get involved. I think it's wise if I got to discuss that with you and your father." I explained hurriedly, before adding, "perhaps I could get Elijah's number?"

Luka looked conflicted. "Well, I don't really have it—"

My eyebrows furrowed together. "You do, don't you?"

"Okay, yes, I have it." He admitted drolly.

"If you're unsure if you're allowed to give it to me then don't," I said slowly.

His youthful face lit up at that and I felt a stab of worry travel through me. In the original plotline, Luka would die. Would die and would be considered by the majority of the viewers as a traitor, but how was his fight for his sister any different from Stefan's fight for his Elena. I would have to make sure he and his father wouldn't die. And by doing that, honesty was probably the best course of action.

He gripped my wrist, yanking me through the corridor and into the deserted cafeteria. His grip was likely to leave an imprint of his fingers, even possible to leave bruises, but I felt a little discomfort. Leaning against a plastic chair I waited for him to speak.

"Okay," he whispered (unnecessary if I might add) and held out his hand, "if you give me your number, we can discuss this more privately."

I'd forgotten how secretive teenagers could be. How secretive I had been so now and then and grinned taking his iPhone, fingers skimming over the screen, typing in Elena's feel number. I committed it to memory a while ago, and I was quite glad for it now.

Luka looked rather nervous and I gave him a genuine smile when offering him his phone back. "There, my cell. If you call me now, I'll have yours too."

"Sure," he agreed and when his unknown number flashed on my screen, I smiled.

"Yes, thank you, got it." I grinned and added it to my contacts.

"I'll text you," he mumbled awkwardly and I stuck up my thumbs before making my way to history.

Mr Tanner had already started the roll call and I tiptoed past him.

I'd just sunk into a seat at the back of the classroom when the dour teacher peered up from his list and met my gaze head-on. "Miss Gilbert, how nice of you to attend my lowly history class."

"I'm sorry, I got hold up," I mumbled, swallowing the sassy comment that had been building.

"Of course," he replied pleasantly, "tell me what can you recall from the Hindenburg?"

I flushed, twisting my pencil case between my fingers: "The Hindenburg was the largest Zeppelin ever built." I started and as I spoke, little sprigs of information rolled through my mind. "I think— it was made in Germany and was supposed to run on Helium, but because of its rarity, hydrogen was used."

"That's right," Mister Tanner grumbled and I was quite proud of myself, "when was its final flight?"

"Erm, late 1930?" I asked.

"A pity, Elena, you were doing so well, Mister Donovan, do you want to give it a try?"

Matt Donovan flushed a dark red and stammered for a moment, "Early 1930?"

"I want a precise date, not an estimation, Mister Donovan. But you are completely wrong."

"1937," I gasped, the year bubbling up out of nowhere, "March 1937."

"Your turn was over, Miss Gilbert."

"You're not easily satisfied." I grumbled but Tanner didn't hear me (thankfully) and Tanner moved on with the lesson ('The final flight of the Hindenburg ended in a disaster at March the sixth, 1937'). As he moved to the blackboard I subtly pulled out my phone, dragging my fingers over the buttons, asking Luka when and where he wanted to meet. I didn't have to wait long for the answer. Only half of the lesson was done when my phone buzzed. I was to meet him and his father after school at his apartment at Old Creek Road 14B and I grinned. Although I had no idea exactly where Old Creek Road was, I had more than enough time to find out (what else was the internet for).

Which was what I did. After school, I'd managed to find my way to Old Creek Road, parking my car just around the corner, the parking lot in front of the large apartment building solely for apartment owners, and made my way up several flights of stairs.

Jonas Martin had answered the door, leading me to a quaint little kitchen. We'd both settled around the kitchen table, joined only minutes later by Luka Martin. Weak sunlight pouring in through the window behind Mr Martin.

"So Elena, you wanted to meet with us?" The father asked and I noticed the strain in his voice.

"Yes—" I agreed, "—I wanted to discuss the deal with you."

"I was under the impression you'd made this deal with Elijah?" Mr Martin asked and I nodded.

"Yes, but I can't get in touch with Elijah, so I thought I could explain it to you first?"

"I suppose," Mr Martin agreed.

"There is a bit of a problem," I mumbled. "Stefan and Damon Salvatore know about the ritual."

Mr Martin frowned. "I do not see how that's a problem."

"Right," I grumbled, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't see the problem with that."

"We can handle a handful of normal vampires, Elena," Luka said, sounding miffed.

I ran my tongue along my teeth (a nervous habit, I admit) and gave Luka a small smile. Our truce was precarious and getting into a fight with this family would definitely end into an awful affair. "It's not that I think you couldn't deal with a vampire. I do understand you and your father would be capable, but they will only try to get involved to save me. Stefan and— my friends, they would try and get involved for my sake, just as you and your father would get involved to save your daughter Greta."

"How do you know about her?" Mr Martin said and I inhaled deeply.

The last time I'd gotten clean about this, it hadn't helped me. I peered at the tops of my sneakers, tracing the swirling browns with cream on the tiles before looking up again. "I've seen things. I know how it sounds, but I've seen things that haven't happened yet. And I've tried to stop them from happening. I've been partly successful, partly very unsuccessful, but that's how I know."

"That makes no sense," Luka drolly remarked and I gave him a dark look. "I mean—"

"No, it doesn't make much sense, but it is the truth."

"Do you know where Klaus is?" Mr Martin interrupted.

"No," I admitted, "but I know he has the help of your daughter and another warlock, Maddox."

Luka snorted. "Help? He forced her; you mean?"

"No," I whispered and my stomach turned uneasily, "from what I've seen, it doesn't look like Klaus forced her. However, he might use her infatuation with him for his own gain."

"Infatuation?" Mr Martin grumbled, his eyes turning stormy.

"Yes," I replied.

"Fuck," Luka muttered.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, crossing my legs at the ankles. "That's why I told Elijah I would try and talk to her, but if she is with him out of her own free will, she might not go easy."

"If Klaus is gone—"

"She'll turn against you," I said. I hadn't even considered Greta's reaction in all of this, but now that I thought about it, it had been rather obvious she was in love with Klaus. Blind to his faults and wistful of all his needs. If she was that in love with him, she would certainly react violently when someone would go after him. "When you're in love at that age, aren't you often very unreasonable?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Mr Martin hissed, a tremble going up through the table.

"I can't really advise you on that, since I have no children, but, I don't think killing her love interest, would help your case in the long run. Besides, if Klaus gets killed every vampire sired by his line, will be killed too, and that includes several of my friends." I explained, forcing myself to remain calm. "If you want to stop Klaus, then it could be done differently as well. A way that won't cost you your life."

"Killing Klaus—"

"Can only happen when you channel the power of a hundred witches?"

"I'm starting to believe the 'I have seen things' comment," Luka muttered dryly.

I ignored the sarcasm and inched to the edge of the rickety wooden chair I'd settled on. "If you channel that much power, it will kill you."

"When Klaus is weakened, Elijah can—"

"Klaus is Elijah's kid-brother. You can't really hate your kid-brother," I whispered.

"Elijah is a man of his word—"

"Could you ever really hate your sister?" I implored softly and an expression of pain flitted over Luka's face. "Could you really hate your daughter?" I continued looking into Mr Martin's face. "I don't think you can ever truly hate them. Not really. Especially not if you know where someone is coming from. Klaus is a monster, I'll not deny that he is, but he wasn't born like that. He didn't decide to become one overnight, he had a lot of time before getting there. Had a lot of narcissistic and uncaring people, especially his deranged father, to get there."

"You sound as if you sympathize with him," Luka whispered.

"I don't. But I do feel sorry a child had to grow up hated the way he did."

"Still sounds to me like—"

I licked my lips, shaking my head. "No. I can relate. My cousin had an abusive mom. It took her years to understand it wasn't because she did something wrong. And even now, she has to fight the repercussions of the way she'd been raised. Of the time she was beaten and hurt." I explained, remembering Maya's gaunt and hollowed-out face. Remembered her drinking. "She died— Alcohol poisoning— and—

"What cousin?" Mr Martin suddenly asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Ah," I gasped. Fuck, Elena didn't have a cousin like that. "I can't explain it."

"You'll have to."

"No," I shook my head, "I don't. I owe no one an explanation."

Mr Martin's hand shot out and curled tightly around my wrist, sending a shockwave of pain through the limb. Mr Martin's eyes rolled back in his head and he began to tremble as if his body was convulsing, but I didn't think it did.

Pain settled behind my temples and I struggled, bumping into a horrified Luka as I shot to my feet. Another tug, but it wasn't enough and as random images of my life, of my past life, flashed before me, I understood.

I yanked so hard at my arm I was acutely aware of the pop in my shoulder. Did I just dislocate my shoulder, but I kept going. Kept twisting my arm away until Mr Martin couldn't help but let go of me. My back hit the granite counter hard and I gasped.

"You're—"

He couldn't have seen everything. When Sheila prowled through my mind, she'd needed a lot longer to get the full picture, but he knew. I could tell in the way his eyes met mine.

"You're not from this world."

"You—" I started, my face flushing darkly, "—you just, how could you do that?" I snapped.

"A parallel universe—"

"Yes," I hissed, curling my fingers tightly around the granite counter.

Mr Martin slowly blinked as though I'd come to him in a drug haze and Luka was openly trembling, having gotten to his feet at some point, and now pressed himself against the front of the fridge. My blood pumping through my veins felt painful beneath my skin and I swallowed. The horrible things I wanted to say, died an abrupt death and I breathed out harshly.

"So that was how you knew." Mr Martin whispered, steeping his fingers together.

"Yes," I hissed, "that's how I knew. How could you do this?"

"You were lying."

"I wasn't lying. I'm entitled to my privacy." I grumbled, squeezing the counter hard. With the anger curling through my bloodstream, my vision had started to swim, the lines of Mr Martin's face trembling and he weaved in and out of symmetry. "Either way, it's because I know that I'm trying to discuss this with you. In the original timeline, every one of your family dies." I let my eyes flit to Luka. "First your son, then you and then your daughter. And you know the funny part? None of them gets killed by Klaus."

"Did Elijah—"

"No, he didn't betray you," I admitted. "But since I don't know how things will go this time around, I'd think you would want to be careful."

"You're lying," Luka whispered, "you have to be lying."

"I'm not."

"Where is the real Elena?" Mr Martin interrupted what might have become a slinging match.

"How am I supposed to know?" I asked in irritation, Luka glaring at me from my peripheral vision. The constant pellets of the rain pounding on the roof only seemed to make my headache worse. "I've never heard, felt or otherwise noticed Elena's presence. I don't have her memories, not even her muscle memory which I'd actually have appreciated on numerous moments."

"A spell like that would need a colossal amount of power—" Mr Martin mumbled, "—and would definitely have resulted in the death of the witch or warlock who did that."

"Yeah, thank you," I grumbled sarcastically. "I already knew that."

"You won't be able to go back without that witch." He clarified between tightly gritted teeth.

"I know that too," I growled and I closed my eyes, dropping my head against the wooden kitchen cabinet behind me. Inhaling deeply, pushing my anger and my building temper deeply away. "Besides, even if the witch was alive I'd need a connection to my previous body or Elena in my body and I don't even have that. So, yes, I know I'm pretty much screwed and stuck here."

"Yeah," Mr Martin agreed noncommittally.

"It doesn't change what I've told you," I said, my tone frosty, "if you try to kill Klaus, you will hurt a lot more people than just that psychopathic Original."

Both Mr Martin's and Luka's expressions were mutinous. I understood their expressions. They were upset, tired, angry and they didn't want to believe me, but— they did.

I had no reason to want and protect Klaus. I didn't— I wanted to live even if that meant living as someone else, but if the Martin's lost (and I felt it was slightly inevitable) while I had played a key part in their plans, then Klaus would never agree to anything.

He would drag me around, compel me to behave and force me to be his walking, talking blood-bag and hybrid-making-machine.

"Your whole family getting slaughtered— An entire bloodline of vampires being killed. Some of which are good and honest people. Which aspect of either of those things sounds even remotely appealing to you?" I tried, forcefully uncurling my fingers. "Bonnie Bennett's mother turned Klaus' father into stone. Or desiccated him and he is the strongest of the Originals. We would only need that spell— and with a bit more magic— that would be a far better solution, wouldn't it?" I continued, keeping my tone purposefully mild.

"We have to think about this." Mr Martin whispered and I nodded. It was as good as I would get. I levelled Mr Martin with a determined stare, already moving to the door and he nodded. It almost went unnoticed, the barest dip of his chin, but it was enough.

I quickly made my way out of the Martins' apartment. My skin felt jittery, chilled with apprehension as well as cold air but I never looked back. Perhaps I should have. Perhaps it was preposterous to think I could outwit a villain like Klaus. I certainly hadn't been the first one who had tried, but— I didn't have anything else. I had to try—

It took two days for the tempestuous sheets of rain to lessen and the sun to break out weakly through the swirl of clouds. I was outside, as dusk began to descend, the rays of sunlight stretching long and lean along the horizon.

My forehead was gleaming with perspiration and my lungs expanded most deliciously. I hadn't jogged in a while (not since I'd gotten stuck in Elena Gilbert's body) and the normality of it, felt wonderful. Drawing the back of my hand across my damp brow, I quickened my pace, enjoying the way my blood pumped through my veins.

The air was crisp with the hint of impending winter and swirls of fog escaped my mouth. I hadn't felt more alive in months.

I inhaled deeply again, the chill and damp felt wonderful against my skin, even though a knot of pain had formed between my shoulders. A mist had risen above the ground. The cold of the day dispersing in a glitter of droplets ascending in the sunlight.

Further up the block, on the grassy strip adjacent to the fence, a Labrador sniffed. His nose to the ground, darting around the low underbrush. I turned the corner, my sneakers beating down onto the pavement and I veered into Maple Street.

With Thanksgiving Break, there was no school today, nor would I have to attend any classes tomorrow, which was also the reason why not even rush hour had started up yet. I wasn't sure if it would at all and—

The air in my lungs was waning and my calves were burning and I flopped forward, catching myself on the fence surrounding I gasped, flopping forward, a strand of damp wavy hair escaping from the braid I'd wrestled it in.

Leaning my hands heavily on my knees I fought to control my breathing. Pressing my hands against my lower back, I stretched out my spine. I had never liked jogging, but— it felt so satisfying.

The burn and ache of the muscles and the strain on the sinew along them felt absolutely delicious. Even if I was now pretty much exhausted and slowly made my way up to the Gilbert house.

Grayson had gone out for a council meeting; Jeremy would probably sleep in and Miranda had been drinking her daily dose of vervain tea in the living room when I'd left. I supposed the vampire problem terrorizing the town weighed heavily on her mind. Kicking off my damp shoes in the hallway, I got myself a cup of coffee from the kitchen and traipsed into the living room.

I froze in the door opening, a greeting already on my lips, but instead of drinking coffee and staring at whatever she'd been reading when I'd gone out to jog, Miranda lay curled up on her side on the couch. Fast asleep.

The lights from the floor-length windows streamed in, flooding the room. I crouched down before her, carefully lifting her arm. She was limp with sleep, and I easily rolled Miranda over on her back, pulling one of the papers loose without waking her.

It was a research paper about the regenerative property of skin tissue, and I didn't even know why she was reading it. Or I did when my eyes found a familiar name between the other two authors. Grayson Gilbert had had a hand in writing it and I cocked my head to the side.

It was a recent publication too and I traced the other names. They didn't sound familiar and I supposed I should congratulate Elena's father — my father in a way, I supposed — when I saw him next and gathered the other papers before dropping them on the coffee table. The morning light had just about touched the curve of Miranda's ear.

I shook my head, searching around until I found the blanket she usually used in the evening and covered her with it. The tensed muscles in her neck relaxed almost immediately and curled up on the loveseat adjacent of the couch, eyes roving over the paper.

Adding a growth factor, factor X (what was this, a Marvel script) to several participants who'd been horribly burned in some fire. The results were good, even if factor X was never further explained. Some synthetic made growth factor—

A car was pulling up on the Gilbert's driveway. I listened to someone coming up the porch steps and open the door a moment later and I leant back in my seat. I heard the hustle of his keys as he dropped them in the bowl beside the door and the creak of the floorboards on the landing before he peeked inside.

"Oh, hello, Elena," Grayson greeted, stepping into the living room further upon seeing me.

"Hi Dad," I greeted back and he stepped closer, his dark eyes wide and earnest.

"What do you have there, sweetheart?" He smiled, his hair and clothes smelled of tobacco. He looked cheerful enough, but beneath his eyes, dark circles had formed. I guessed without any new leads or the magical compass in their possession they weren't making much progress in finding the vampire terrorizing the town.

Or who had been terrorizing the town? There hadn't been any more attacks with Damon locked up.

"Oh your research paper," I smiled, "congratulations, looks interesting enough."

"Ah," he smiled, looking strangely shy about it and accepted the papers, "thank you. It still has to be approved by the board though."

"Ah," I smiled. I had no idea what board. Didn't ethical commissions approve a study beforehand? I had no idea. He went to his desk, dumping his papers in a desk drawer and turned to me again, his eyes flitting over my yoga pants. "Gone out for a run?"

"No," I drolly replied, "I like taking long walks in my jogging outfit."

"Sarcasm, nice." He sniggered.

"How did your meeting go?"

He ran a hand through his hair, "it went fine."

I doubted that. I couldn't remember ever watching an episode featuring thanksgiving during season one, or any other season, really, but there were a lot of vampires around. Anna and Pearl, Caroline and Stefan. Even Elijah, although I had no idea if he was staying in Mystic Falls or not. I hoped Anna and Pearl had at least left and shook my head. Banishing the vampire-related thoughts to the back burner of my mind I looked up at Grayson's face again.

"I'm glad."

"—Glad about what?" Miranda Gilbert asked, sitting up while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"My meeting went well," Grayson answered noncommittally.

"Oh," she smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "Well, that's good, Elena, would you help your father with breakfast? Perhaps you two could start with some preparations for tonight?"

"Yeah sure," I mumbled, turning to Grayson. Why did it feel that I was missing something?

"You want Elena to help me?" Grayson asked, looking vaguely worried. Right, Elena couldn't cook.

"What do you want to make?" I asked, making an effort to sound offended.

"I thought you'd like Chicken parmesan." He answered smiling.

"Sure, sounds good."

"Only good?" Grayson teased and I shrugged.

"Erm, yeah?" I smiled. I hadn't had chicken in— well, years. "Very good?"

Grayson grumbled. "You can never win with you lot, can you?" And I followed him into the kitchen with a frown. I was missing something. Again. Or I thought I was, it was hard to concentrate on all that I was missing.

To be continued…

A/N: Mr Martin finding out Non-Elena's secret? This spells trouble doesn't it? I wonder what you all make of this. Like always, I'd love to hear from you. I hope to update next week around Friday. Fingers crossed for weekly updates^^

This chapter was beta'd by HPuni10