Finding Elena

by wattskerrylou

Short flashback side story to The Bourbon Diaries. Elena encounters the vampire Gabe ten months after saving his life. In need of her blood, he takes her hostage, awaiting Damon's rescue. But, when he arrives, they all find themselves at the mercy of an even bigger threat. Post-canon TVD. Human DE. Can be read as a standalone, but contains juicy plot pointers for the future sequel.

Mystic Falls, Virginia

Mystic Falls Hospital

"This cannot be happening," Elena muttered under her breath, letting out a weary sigh. She stopped at the top of the concrete staircase of the multistorey parking garage, leaning heavily against the rough wall, her eyes sweeping nervously over the unsettling scene before her.

It was three hours past the end of her grueling twelve-hour shift at the hospital, and her car was just fifty yards away—not that she could see it under the blanket of darkness that had swept her entire floor. It wasn't a power outage—every floor she had passed on her way up was brightly lit, the fluorescent lights still buzzing with life. No, these lights were purposely switched off, and the possible reasons for that sent paranoid shivers down Elena's spine.

It was just her luck this had to happen tonight: the night she had stubbornly resolved not to call Damon for a lift after work like he'd—just as stubbornly—insisted the moment the sun went down. She stood for a while, under the last functioning spotlight, listening for signs of maniacs or murderers lurking in the shadows, while reminding herself that she had already survived enough of those in the past. She was starting to feel like a cat with nine lives, wondering when her ninth life was up. She reached into her bag, taking out her phone. Damon was waiting for her call, but since lingering in a creepy stairway for him to arrive sounded no safer, she decided to brave the walk to her car. But not without a safety net.

As soon as Bonnie answered the video call, Elena strode forward into the darkness, keeping a brisk pace toward her car.

"Elena? Why's it so dark? Where are you?" Bonnie asked, squinting down at the shadowed, pixelated face in front of her, making sure it wasn't a pocket dial.

Elena lowered the brightness on her phone screen. Perhaps walking with her phone out wasn't the best idea, but getting mugged was the least of her worries. She just needed someone figuratively by her side, knowing where she was and what was happening—and, admittedly, someone to keep her mind off how creepy this situation was. "I've just left work. The agency finally sent someone to cover. I'm walking to my car now." It was then Elena noticed the familiar décor behind Bonnie's head and her nerves spiked for a brand-new reason. "Are you in my house?" Oh no, this wasn't good.

Suddenly, Damon's head popped into the frame, leaning across the dining table, looking extremely irked. "Our house, baby," he corrected. It was infuriatingly dark, but he could still see her eyes roll. "Or is it our house? Since you seem to be this independent woman walking around in the middle of the night, maybe you've forgotten you have a doting husband at home waiting to escort you extremely safely from the threshold of your ward to the threshold of our doorstep. A husband that you promised to call the moment you finished work." He tutted, looking skywards, seeking further ammunition from the bank of stored Elena lectures he had in his brain somewhere. "Isn't a marriage based on trust and communication and—I don't know—all the other things you repeatedly tell me it's based on?"

Elena groaned. She wasn't prepared for this so soon. But, on the bright side, his exceptionally long rant had used up most of the time it took to almost reach her car. "Damon, I don't need—"

Her heels scraped to a halt. She heard something. Her head snapped up.

Damon sprung into a stance that looked like he was prepared to jump through the phone to protect her. His voice was bursting with concern. "Elena, what's wrong?"

Elena whipped her head around. She could hear a faint humming sound. It seemed to be moving along the opposite side of the parking lot. Darkness—there was too much darkness. There were still no lights, no sounds, no other movements. Whatever the sound was, it wasn't human or animal. Possibly mechanical? "It's nothing," she attempted to reassure her husband, looking back down at her phone. "I think it might be the lights attempting to power back on."

"Right, that's it, I'm picking you up," Damon decided, already storming away from the phone before Elena could have time to protest.

"Damon—" Elena started.

"He's already gone," Bonnie told her. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, pleased by Damon's reaction, unashamedly having chosen his side on this matter.

Elena continued forward, finally reaching her car. She fumbled around in her bag for her keys. "I don't know why he's got to be so hyper-protective of me."

"You know exactly why he's hyper-protective of you, Elena." Bonnie's mouth still hadn't given up the sly smirk.

Lifting out a water bottle for better access to the deep, dark recesses of her bag where her keys always seemed to live, she growled to herself after discovering they had hitched a ride on its carry strap and plummeted to the floor. Now this she could have used Damon for. Placing her hand over the hood of her Ford SUV, she spread her knees apart and squatted down gracelessly—at least, it sure felt that way—and quickly snatched up her keys.

Before standing, something caught her eye, and Elena shone the only light she had—the face of Bonnie—towards the front wheel of the car, inspecting it. Yep, that just had to be—

"Is that your flat tire?" Bonnie exclaimed, confirming it.

Elena grunted as she brought herself back into standing. "Well, I guess it's a good thing Damon's coming after all. It's just not my day."

"You know who else isn't having a good day?" Bonnie added, changing the subject. "Damien. I kind of broke up with him today. That's why I've been around here, waiting for you."

"Bonnie!" Elena gasped, shame sweeping across her cheeks at being so self-focused. She'd been waiting to speak to her for three hours? She stepped around to the driver's side of her car, leaning against it. "I had no idea, I'm so sorry."

Bonnie gave a lighthearted shrug. "Don't be. It was a long time coming—the relationship was too one-sided—so I finally made up my mind. Damon's happy about it. He never did like him."

"He got those bad vibes just discovering his name sounded too close to his own," Elena revealed jadedly. "Territorial over phonemes—don't pay attention to him."

Bonnie lowered her head, smiling. "Yeah, well, he's not the only one who's pleased. Caroline is already dying to set me up with some guy called Eric—a firefighter and, yes, I know that sounds hot—but I foresee stern lectures about my use of candles, and, honestly, he's six years younger than me, Elena, it would feel weird."

Unlocking the door and slipping into the driver's seat, Elena threw her bag onto the empty chair next to her. "Well, witches age slower than humans, so theoretically you're a perfect match… and, hey, at least the age difference isn't over a hundred and fifty years."

Bonnie laughed. "Yeah, well, I just spent a lovely evening talking to that grandpa of a former vampire, and I'm sure I've got more in common with him than someone in their mid-twenties. Yikes, what does that say about me?"

Elena returned the laughter, closed her car door, and then added hopefully, "Well, if you stick around for the next, say, thirty minutes, you can see how well you converse with someone your own age."

"I'd like that," Bonnie replied warmly.

"Me too," Elena replied. "See you soon."

Elena wished she hadn't let out that breath before hitting the button to end the call. She didn't know she was going to be needing it. But the moment she hit that button, the threat she'd anticipated—the one that curled within her stomach with every step towards her car—came in the form of a sudden hand quickly curling around her neck, squeezing her airway.

She didn't have the breath she needed, but the panicked scream she emitted was instinctual, beyond all biological boundaries, like her words were conjured from her heart instead of her lungs. "I'm pregnant!"

The words seem to have an effect. A sigh came from behind her as tears built up in her eyes. Her body was frozen, one hand gripping the door panel, the other pressing down on her seat, as she felt the thick, tight fingers loosen just enough for her to gasp. The man's hand now cupped her neck, his thumb brushing her chin, as he arched his upper body over her shoulder, looking down at her third-trimester bump. The next sigh he emitted was even heavier and, as he dropped back onto the rear seat, his hand slid from her neck to her collarbone, pinning her to the backrest. She felt his breath on her neck as he spoke.

"This is the second damn pregnancy to ruin my life this year." His voice was a gritted, low mumble, his tone full of pain, conflict, and regret. He wasn't expecting a response to that, and she never gave him one. After a moment of deliberation, he admitted, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just need some of your blood."

Elena tried to keep calm, but there was a lump forming in her throat. "That sounds very much like it would involve hurting me." Her hand slowly slid from the door panel towards the handle. Ever so gently, she started pulling it towards her. He wasn't gripping her tightly enough that she couldn't run… but could she even run in her condition?

He didn't allow her the opportunity to find out as his hand darted from her collarbone to below her neck threateningly. "You do not want to go out there," he warned her.

Elena released the door handle. How could it be worse than being here? "Why not?"

"Because the thing that destroyed your front tire is still out there," he said ominously, strained breaks noticeable between his words. All this talking was exhausting for him. "It's the same thing that has me bleeding out in your back seat."

There was a thing? A thing that did that to her car? Was he telling the truth, or was this just a tactic to stop her from running? She quickly assessed the situation. He was a desperate man who had targeted her—willing to break into her car, willing to wait for her to show up—but, for some reason, he had not been willing to accost her outside. He could have done that—he clearly had the opportunity, size, and strength for it—but instead, he was in her unroadworthy vehicle, a predator claiming to be pursued by another predator, and… all for her blood? Her voice stuttered with too many questions. "What thing? Would I stand a better chance with it than with a vampire?"

Then he chuckled. The asshole actually chuckled!

His hand slid back to her collarbone—a small token of appreciation for her honesty. "About as good a chance as your car tire did if I had to chase after you—and I would chase you, Elena. I'm not dying today."

Elena's eyes flicked towards the phone that was facing downwards on her lap. The edges emitted a faint glow and then disappeared. Someone had sent her a message. Maybe she could send one back to them, but she would have to be extremely careful. She'd have to do it while he was distracted—while he was trying to focus on his words as he struggled through the physical pain he was in. So, as the man continued talking, she took the phone into her palm, angling it slightly, and swiping down on the notification. It was from Bonnie.

"I need your blood to heal me, Elena. The thing outside is called a Wood Wheel. It tracks a vampire's heart and fires at them with wood splinters. I'm going to die within the next thirty minutes if you don't heal me."

She had to think fast—she had to take this opportunity. Damon was on his way—was he about to get caught in the crossfire between this vampire and whatever the hell was outside targeting him? Bonnie was the only one who could take down both. She couldn't type a message. It was going to have to be a voice message. He had stopped talking so she had to react before he became suspicious. She quickly pressed down on the microphone symbol and smothered the screen back into her lap to block the light.

"So, you're a vampire, who knows who I am—stalked me and waited for me in my own car—and now you're not going to leave until I give you my blood?"

There was that low chuckle again. It was stronger this time, with a machine-gun rattle as his laughter fought through his physical agony. Apparently, the situation was so amusing that he had to lower his head to fully absorb how funny it was.

"Oh, Elena," he started, raising his head, his words deliberately prolonged with a mixture of both disapproval and admiration for her bravery. "Release the voice message you're sending."

Her thumb instantly came away from the screen. She had been too obvious, but she didn't have the time to make the conversation sound more casual. Nothing was casual about what was going on. It didn't matter now—it was sent. Bonnie would warn Damon, and they would both be here soon. But would she still be alive by then?

Elena held her chin up defiantly. "My husband's on his way. He has weapons."

"Oh, good, we're going to need them," the man remarked in a lighter tone. "I'll either be healed or dead by the time he gets here. It's your decision which—but I'm willing to help you if you help me."

"Why me?" she asked, frustration beginning to boil in her voice. Why was it always her? What did he expect from her? "If you can't heal yourself from wood splinters embedded in your body, then no amount of my blood is going to do that for you. It would require surgery. It might not even work—"

"Your blood is special, Elena," he answered. He was starting to weaken. He had to start preserving his energy. Releasing his palm from her chest, he slumped back into his seat. If she ran, then yes, he would have to take what was needed, but what he really wanted was for her to consent to it. He didn't know if he would ever need her help again. "Ten months ago, you found me injured in the hospital, a stake grazing my heart. I pulled out the stake, but the location of the wound stopped me from healing. I don't know why, but the moment you had me on a hospital bed, inspecting my vitals, I sensed something in your blood that I felt I strongly needed. So, I grabbed your wrist, and I fed on you. It healed me from an injury that no vampire should have survived. Only you can tell me why that is."

Suddenly, Elena's fear was surpassed by curiosity. He had released his hold on her. He hadn't fed on her yet, but, yes, a vampire had done that to her—he had done that to her—exactly as he said. She turned in her seat, one hand pulling her up from the top of the backrest, her knee coming up onto the chair. She looked at him, studying his features through the shadows. He was a few years older than her, closer to Damon's age. His dark hair was messy—either ruffled upwards from squirming against the back seat, or skimming down against the top of his ears, weighed down by sweat—his skin glistened with perspiration, his pale olive skin was now ashen, and his white shirt was speckled with large blotches of dark red blood. Yes, she unfortunately recognized this man. She also remembered his name. She would never forget it.

"Gabe Morelli," she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the same pitiful sight she'd seen ten months ago.

"I'm flattered you remember me." His hand came up quickly, pressing against the wound over his heart. This was no longer a dull ache; it was now becoming piercing. He grimaced as he continued. "Why only your blood, Elena?" If anything, he had to know.

Her eyes dropped. She hadn't known this—it was a surprise to her—but she could think of only one explanation. "I was once a vampire too… before I took the cure."

His lips quirked upwards like he was about to emit another chuckle, but his chest jerked in response, no longer having the pain tolerance for it. "I thought that was an urban legend. The cure is still in your veins?"

She shook her head gently. "No… I was a young vampire. I survived once it was removed and given to someone else. Someone I care about."

"That 'grandpa of a former vampire', I take it?" he surmised, remembering her friend's words over the phone. "Now your husband?" When Elena didn't respond—unsure how much of her life she should be revealing to a vampire who had just been threatening her—he decided he would reveal a few truths about his own life. "That's quite the love story. Unfortunately, my own love life led me down some dark paths. I'm currently in this mess because it's my former lover who is hunting me down—a moderately powerful witch with a significantly more powerful witch husband. I left her after I found out she was pregnant with his child—don't give me those judgmental eyes, I never intended to be a homewrecker—but then I discovered she was in the hospital. Complications a couple of weeks after the birth—hemorrhaging—so I came back to offer her my blood to heal her."

"She's recovered?"

"Oh, yes," Gabe confirmed emphatically. "She's shipshape and in quite the vengeful mood."

Elena processed this for a moment. A cut-and-run adulterer wouldn't exactly be on her priority list of vampires to heal, but if he really had saved the life of his ex-lover—a new mother like she was soon to be—knowing that it risked serious consequences, then she supposed she could extend him a small courtesy. "You'll leave the moment you're healed?"

There was sudden hope in his voice. "I promise."

Her lips flattening, Elena reluctantly held out her wrist to him between the two front seats, pinching her eyes closed before she could regret the decision. She knew he wouldn't ask questions—wouldn't allow her the opportunity to change her mind—but at least that meant he would be quick about it.

Quick he was. Gabe instantly took her by the arm, sinking his teeth into her wrist. Just like the first time he'd done this, he could taste the burn of the vervain she took, but it was in no way as potent as he would have normally expected. Perhaps his body was withstanding the pain to heal an even greater one. Gabe heard the hiss of Elena's breath being drawn sharply between her teeth, so the moment after he welcomed the first swallow, his grip on her arm loosened, now merely balancing her wrist against his lips. Still, she remained bravely in position, allowing a second swallow, and then a third, before he felt a gentle tug away from him. He wanted more—he needed his strength—but that was his cue to let go, and so he did. He should have done it sooner; he should have been thinking about her child. If hers hadn't been the only blood that could heal him, he wouldn't have even considered her an option in her current state.

The relief Gabe felt the moment he fell backward onto his seat was instantaneous. The pain was dissolving within him, just as he imagined the splinters of wood were doing at this very moment. His body started to work as though a dance was taking place within him: tiny, delicate steps were stomping out the intrusive pieces of wood rhythmically, while his remastered healing powers were regenerated and swirling around the injuries, fixing him back together. It was euphoric.

Elena was now slipping back into her own seat, tending to the bite marks on her arm with a fresh piece of tissue plucked from a small box wedged sideways in the car's cupholder. She could dress it properly when she was home. She didn't look up at him as she asked, "Are you feeling better?"

"Magnificent," Gabe elated, taking large, appreciative breaths. The pain was now almost completely gone. He was feeling close to his old self, though perhaps not quite as strong as he would have liked. "Thank you, Elena."

"You're welcome," she said, content but with a slight hint of resentful coldness. "So now you can leave."

"I will," Gabe agreed, "when your husband arrives."

Elena's eyes shot towards him angrily. "You promised you would leave the moment you healed."

Gabe tilted his head, reflecting on his words. It was true, but the dangers for her weren't over yet. So, he argued, "You promised your husband you would call him for a lift."

"Did you eavesdrop on our entire conversation?"

"I may have been dying, Elena," Gabe responded, "but I still had my vampire hearing. I want you home safely."

"You don't know my husband," Elena argued. "He'll kill you when he gets here." She held up her bloody wrist to him, displaying one of the many reasons why.

"Understandable," Gabe conceded, grinning. "Luckily, I know a wonderfully selfless woman who can heal me from that."

Elena rolled her eyes, grumbling, "It's that kind of charm that likely got you into this mess in the first place."

The bobbing flash of a car's headlights suddenly made their way from the floor below, coming up towards them. Elena squinted, trying to make out the vehicle, but she was blinded by the light. It certainly appeared to be a similar shape and size to Damon's car. She waved her hand urgently in Gabe's direction. "Go, quickly! That must be him."

In better circumstances, Gabe would have liked to have met the lucky man who made Elena his wife—but these were not better circumstances. He would not put Elena in the center of another altercation, especially if her husband had weapons. So, Gabe was already out of the car, the back door wide open, his hands on the roof, leaning in for a few final, parting words. "Are you going to be okay?"

The car was slowing down, coming to a stop in the middle of the aisle, between two perpendicular parking bays, a few spots away from them. The headlights remained on, and a shadowed figure could be seen behind the steering wheel.

Elena waved her hand more frantically. "I'll be fine, please go! I'm not giving you any more of my blood if he stakes you—you'll have only yourself to blame."

Gabe nodded appreciatively. "Thank you for saving my life, Elena." With that, he was gone, his vampire speed taking him off in a direction away from her husband's car.

The stairway would have been the most obvious place to head, but instead, Gabe slid his back along its outside wall, remaining in the darkness. He wanted to make sure Elena got away safely, and he sure as hell didn't want to do that while standing in the only location where he could be spotted. As soon as he was certain he was out of sight, he turned his head back in her direction—and saw something that made his stomach sink.

That was not her husband's car… and the person stepping out of it was not her husband.

Gabe gritted his teeth nervously, watching the figure saunter slowly towards Elena's car. Turn around, Madeline—I'm not in there. The outline of his ex-lover then made her way to the driver's side and tapped on Elena's window like she was a cop looking to see some ID. Gabe sighed in relief when she didn't comply, focusing on them intently with his heightened hearing.

"The man who jumped out of your car just now," Madeline asked her, "where did he go?" Her tone was as icy as her white-blonde hair. She didn't appreciate the glass barrier Elena had insisted on remaining between them.

Gabe's fingertips were pinching into the rough wall behind his back. Tell her the truth, Elena. Just tell her the truth. Send her my way.

Elena's expression remained intentionally neutral. It wasn't that she didn't have any sympathy for the woman in front of her. She was one or two years younger than Elena, a jilted lover, a new mother, and recently at death's door if Gabe's story was true. But she was also a witch with a contraption that could take down both her tire and former lover.

Elena kept a cool head, reaching for her car key, inserting it, and placing both hands on the steering wheel, appearing like she was ready to leave. "I don't know. I didn't interact with him. He was hiding in my car but made a run for it as soon as I got in. Can I leave now?"

Gabe smiled. Good answer.

Madeline smirked and informed her ominously, "You're not going anywhere." Her pale features, illuminated by the bright headlights, stood out starkly against her black clothing, giving her a chilling, ghostly appearance. The light accentuated the blue of her eyes, her pupils tiny but still piercing as she locked onto Elena's nervous gaze. Finally, she broke eye contact and pointed to the rear door beside her, which was hanging wide open. "Not with a door open and a flat tire anyway." With a firm shove, she quickly solved one of those issues.

Elena struggled not to stutter. The woman knew she was stranded and was trying to make her feel uneasy. It was working. She swallowed back the nerves. "My husband is coming to change it. He'll be here any second."

Madeline nodded in response, then suddenly cocked her head. "And what is your husband going to say about the vampire bite marks you have on your wrist?"

Gabe's eyes widened, his fingers now curled into a fist, striking back at the wall behind him. Shit, she noticed!

Removing her hands from the steering wheel, Elena considered placing them under her thighs out of sight, but something told her she was going to need every limb on her defense soon. She tried to think of an answer, but she was taking too long.

Madeline continued her interrogation. "So, a vampire you never interacted with, fed on you, ran from me, and now you're defending him?" For a moment she considered what this meant. Why was this mystery woman lying to her? She might have been compelled, but why would Gabe waste precious seconds doing that if he was trying to escape her? Then suddenly, her features twisted into a sadistic smile—mystery solved. "Perhaps you're not defending him," she accepted. "Perhaps he's the one who's defending you."

Her eyes widening, Elena slammed down on the lock, but it was futile—Madeline was already using her magic to unlock it. The door swung open, and Elena twisted in her seat, kicking her feet out as she tried to shuffle backward to the other side of the car. The soles of her shoes struck Madeline in the scuffle, but she didn't relent, eventually managing to grab Elena by the ankles.

As Elena felt herself being yanked out of the car, she focused on her baby. If Madeline kept pulling, she would fall. If Madeline decided to hit back, those hits might land on her stomach. She couldn't risk it—she gave in. "Stop! I'll get out of the car!"

Madeline dropped Elena's feet onto the asphalt, wiping scuffs from her black jeans from where the undersoles of her shoes had struck her. As soon as Elena was out of the vehicle, Madeline slammed the door closed and grabbed Elena by the back of her hair, pulling her out into the aisle, a shadowed centerpiece between the spotlights of her car. "Gab-ri-el," she sang out victoriously. "I have your—wow, very heavily pregnant—plaything here." She hadn't noticed how far along Elena was while she was on her back, struggling to get away. "Another child to add to your growing collection. You've been a busy boy."

Gabe breathed once. Twice. If he made an appearance, Madeline would know he was monitoring Elena's safety—she would know Elena was important to him. If he didn't, her imagination would tumble down into that delusional abyss of believing he was knocking women up left, right, and center, and then abandoning them. It didn't matter how many times he stressed that he was a vampire—he couldn't father children—she still lived in the fantasy that one day he would believe her lies. Anything to get him to stay with her.

He watched as Madeline gave another forceful yank on Elena's hair, almost toppling her off her feet. It was a threat alright—and he didn't want to see that threat carried out. The woman had completely lost it. He finally stepped out of the shadows.

"Let her go, Madeline," he ordered. He approached her cautiously.

Madeline didn't release her grip. If anything, she tightened it, feeling Elena writhing to get free, no doubt terrified of the hazards of being positioned between a vampire and witch feuding. "Was this who you left me for?" She grabbed Elena's left hand, holding it up and turning it in the light. Not that Gabe could see what she was looking at while he squinted his eyes, blinded by headlights. "Married too. It seems you have a type, Gabriel."

Gabe continued closer, his anger growing. "Damn it, Madeline, she is not my lover! Stop behaving so irrationally and let her go!"

Madeline dropped Elena's hand. "She's certainly special enough for you to feed on. She's certainly special enough for you to stand here in front of me, begging me to let her go." Perhaps she wasn't giving Gabe enough credit. Would it really be out of character for him to appeal for the life of a random pregnant woman? Probably not. "Or am I just not threatening enough for you at the moment?" She had to raise the stakes—literally.

A hum permeated the air—the device awoken—its distance closing in, notifying them of its approach through an intensifying urgent whiz. Made entirely of wood, no bigger than two round dinner plates held together by three-inch grates that wrapped around it, it concealed rows of thick wooden needles—all feathering out into smaller shards, making it impossible to extract them from a penetrated vampire heart. After whipping through the air to find its maker, it came to a standstill, hovering over Madeline's shoulder.

"A little lower, Twiggy," she ordered. "It needs to aim right for Gabe's heart."

The Wood Wheel complied, gliding down until it was level with Madeline's shoulder.

Pleased with how startled Gabe looked, but not so pleased that he was holding his ground, prepared to die for the woman locked in her grasp, Madeline stepped away from the device, pulling Elena along with her. She released Elena's hair, only to grab her by the shoulders, spinning her to face the Wood Wheel, while Madeline shielded herself from behind.

The device then sprung to life, the grates suddenly spinning in its center, whirling faster and faster, whizzing aggressively.

"No!" Gabe screamed. There were two modes of this contraption. The first found its target and fired. Madeline could have easily ordered it to do that. It knew exactly where he was. But, no, she had activated the second mode: the one that fired splinters in all directions, not caring what it hit. He could use his vampire speed to run, but Elena would die. He didn't know the woman, but he could already tell she was a better person than he was—a woman dedicated to saving lives, not a creature who was designed to end them. Was she worth his life?

Activating his vampire speed, Gabe decided to run.

Right in front of Elena. It would take him down, but it wouldn't take her with him.

In the fleeting second it took to reach Elena, he expected to feel the hit of a dozen needles penetrating his back. When that didn't come but the sound of a distracting set of tires screeching up the ramp did, he seized that opportunity to scoop Elena up and speed toward the stairway. The interrupting vehicle skidded sideways—the driver noticing Madeline's obstructing car too late—and the two rears collided. It was the distraction they'd needed. Madeline was occupied—they were making their escape.

Suddenly, Elena screamed, "Stop!"

Reaching the light of the stairway, he did. He didn't know why, but Gabe was prepared to offer her one second to give him her reason before he started descending the stairs.

"My husband!"

Damn it! He had to admit, that was one hell of a good reason.

Putting Elena down, Gabe urged her to run. He promised her that he would make sure her husband was safe too. He honestly didn't give two shits about the guy but, at this point, he wasn't about to force Elena into widowhood and leave her raising a child alone. The trouble was, Elena wasn't agreeing to this. Of course she wasn't. She wouldn't run. She couldn't fight. She was a panicked mess—a shell of the woman who was bravely holding her own just minutes earlier. The woman he had now taken upon himself to protect was turning into a liability, which meant only one thing: that husband of hers was her damn weakness… and, right now, showing weakness wasn't an option.

Gabe didn't want to move her away from the stairs—she needed to remain by an exit—in sight of everything that was going on, but not close enough to get hurt by it. He grabbed her by the arm, leading her to the closest concealed spot he could find, underneath the ascending stairway. He pushed her quickly into the far corner. What did she say her husband's name was? Damon? "Stay there!" he ordered, pointing at her with a firm finger. "The moment I grab Damon, we're getting the hell out of here."

He spun around—ready to do just that—when he found the Wood Wheel hovering in front of his face, just out of arm's reach.

Gabe grimaced. Shit, shit, shit!

He knew how fast Madeline had designed these things. He could outrun their movements, but he couldn't outrun how fast they discharged, especially not if he had to run around one. Trapped between the staircase and a large pillar, Gabe peered behind the device, watching Madeline come towards them in the distance after having inspected the intruding car. He didn't know whether to be thankful that she was alone, or concerned.

Gabe backed up until his head brushed against the soffit. Elena's breath was quickening behind him, but he didn't turn around. His eyes remained on the threat in front of him, and once again, he was shielding her—this woman who had gotten under his skin—and he damn well had to hope that if the Wood Wheel took him down a second time, she would be willing to offer up her blood to him again. But that hope was dwindling the closer Madeline got to them. There wasn't a chance in hell of her letting Elena save him.

The device dipped itself down so it was level with Gabe's heart. Then it launched into an ominous crescendo of hums: the sound it made when it had found its target.

Gabe pinched his eyes closed, waiting for the dreaded, high-pitched cheep it emitted right before it fired. Whatever happened, he wasn't leaving her. Sooner or later, he knew a woman would be the death of him anyway. He just never expected it to be another man's woman—he had at least hoped it would be one who had his heart.

As though Elena had read his thoughts, her body came up behind his, and she slipped her hand underneath his arm, spreading it over his chest—right above his heart.

He felt himself melt a little. "What are you doing?" he muttered to her gently. She was going to get herself hurt.

Or maybe she wasn't.

The high-pitched cheep never came—the device bobbing into various tilts trying to avoid the human in front of its target. This was its default targeting mode, not its hissy-fit maniac mode—this time it couldn't fire if there was an obstruction.

Elena kept her hand firmly in place. "Protecting your heart," she told Gabe. She hadn't been entirely sure it would work, but seeing the Wood Wheel falter and fail at getting a clear shot, its hum gradually diminishing, she was now certain it was.

Madeline came to a stop at the entry to the stairway, clicking her fingers, ordering the Wood Wheel to return to her. It skimmed through the air in her direction, dropped down, and rested at her feet. Her eyes lasered in on Elena's hand spread across Gabe's chest and her expression tightened in fury.

Elena dropped her hand, a scowl forming. "Where's my husband?" she demanded from behind Gabe's shoulder.

Madeline's eyebrows shot up. "So that's who that was?" A smirk spread across her face, her hands raised upwards openly, and she shrugged. "Gone, it appears. Perhaps he took one look at his wife draping her arm around another man and decided you're not worth saving."

"Think again, bitch!"

Raising himself from a crouch behind the nearest car, Damon stepped towards the stairway, holding a crossbow pointed in Madeline's direction. He maintained his aim on her as he came to a stop at the wall beside the descending staircase. "Let her go."

"Damon!" Elena gasped in relief.

Damon immediately raised his fingers up toward her, gesturing for her to remain where she was. "It's okay, honey," he reassured her. "I'm just going to shoot a stake into this psycho's chest and then we'll be on our way." He placed his finger back on the trigger.

Her hands still splayed out beside her shoulders, Madeline slowly turned her head towards Damon… and, as expected, captured Gabe in her peripheral vision, grabbing Elena's hand, ready to vamp-speed her out of there. The moment Madeline felt him move—five optimistic strides in less than a second—she spun her hand rapidly, throwing Gabe against the center pillar with her power, a magnet of magic yanking Elena swiftly in front of her. He wasn't the only one who could operate at high speed.

Madeline grabbed Elena's arms, holding her in place as a human shield against Damon's weapon. Unfortunately, Damon did not lower it as expected. So, her hand slid down to Elena's wrist, yanking it upright to reveal the bite marks on the inner side. "You would protect a wife who had another man in her car—a vampire? Allowing him to feed on her? You might feel differently after getting a paternity test. Gabriel seems to defeat the odds of vampires impregnating women."

Damon then realized he was dealing with a witch—an absolute lunatic of a witch. Good thing Bonnie was on her way. All he had to do was delay things. He was good at that. "Our baby was conceived in a private villa in the Maldives. And since that guy sure as hell doesn't look like our irritatingly handsome resort butler, Akram, I'm going to have to insist you shut your mouth and let my wife go." Damon's crossbow stayed pointing forward, his eye level with the sight, but his aim focused just above his wife's shoulder. He wasn't risking it, but he also wasn't going to put down the weapon. Fake it 'til he makes it—he was good at that too.

Gabe chose to make a less aggressive appeal than Damon. "Madeline," he pleaded, "Elena's a stranger. She means nothing to me. Please let her go."

Madeline's hand was again on Elena's hair, yanking it backward, causing Elena to yelp in pain. "A stranger who means nothing to you, Gabe? Is that why you threw yourself in her path, attempting to sacrifice yourself to save her—twice?"

Gabe sighed. That sounded bad. It was not going to go down well with her husband. Casting a nervous glance towards him, he watched Damon's eyebrows flick upwards briefly at the revelation, seemingly impressed that his wife had the vampire who had been initially threatening her now wrapped around her little finger. But, other than that, he didn't react. Gabe wondered if Damon had a hell of a lot of trust in his wife, or if now just wasn't the time to be grilling him about it.

Resuming his focus back on Madeline, Gabe knew he had to start being honest. It wasn't something he'd wanted to reveal to a witch, but he could deal with the fallout later. "Her blood once contained the cure for vampirism. Hers was the only blood that could save me when you shot splinters into my heart. I discovered its healing powers ten months ago—do you remember me telling you about that? She prevented me from dying once. I had to find her again."

"I don't believe you," Madeline hissed.

"I can vouch for that, so start believing it," Damon retaliated. Granted the part about being able to heal vampires with her blood was new to him, but since this Gabe guy seemed to know her backstory, he had no reason to believe the rest wasn't true.

"Well," Madeline huffed at Damon, "since your wife has deprived me of my revenge, if you want her to live, then you can do the honor of killing him for me."

"That I would gladly do if the bigger threat wasn't standing behind my wife right now," Damon responded.

Madeline smirked. "On the contrary," she began, "the bigger threat is standing directly in front of your wife." Using her powers, she pulled on the direction of Damon's crossbow, watching his trigger finger loosen as his aim dragged downwards towards Elena's stomach. "I can do the same to your trigger finger too," she threatened.

"The force of this thing is strong enough to go through the both of you," Damon growled, his finger now completely off the trigger, trying to fight against the invisible energy keeping the crossbow pointed at his wife. "It would kill you too. You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Madeline taunted, her magic gently tugging Damon's finger back towards the trigger.

Damon pinched his lips inwards. There was no other way out of this. "Fine," he relented. What was one more dead vampire to him anyway?

The invisible hold on his crossbow now released, Damon spun it in Gabe's direction.

"Damon, don't!" Elena cried. "He saved me!"

"You're going to have to take that up with me later, baby," Damon decided, the crossbow aimed at Gabe's heart. "Be pissed all you want, but right now, all I need is my wife safely back home." His finger slipped back onto the trigger at the same time his eyes slipped upwards to Gabe's face. Damon did not like his expression. It was an expression of defeat—from the sagging shoulders and the downward tilt of his chin to the sad eyes that gazed up at him with understanding for what Damon had to do. He really was prepared to die to save his pregnant wife. For crying out loud, the asshole was not making this easy.

Luckily, Gabe's expression changed. His eyes shot beyond Madeline with a tense glimmer of surprise—and hope. Damon only knew one person who could give them all hope in this godforsaken situation.

Suddenly, Madeline screamed as Bonnie quickly strode towards her, her hand outstretched. Having stopped on the ramp, and bypassed Damon's and Madeline's obstructing cars on foot, she had quickly assessed the urgency of the situation and threw her magic across the parking lot, rushing towards them. Madeline was struggling against her, but the closer Bonnie got to them, the easier her magic would be to control. So far it was just a warning—her power reaching into Madeline's shoulder socket, twisting and contorting, forcing her to release her grip on Elena—but with each step, that pain intensified.

Finally, Madeline could stand it no more. She let go.

The seconds following this were a whirlwind of exchanges and movements. With similar gritted expressions of determination, a wordless plot forming between them, Damon and Gabe launched into action. Gabe raced forward, grabbing Elena by the closest hand. Damon spun the crossbow back in Madeline's direction, waiting for a clear shot. The moment Gabe snatched Elena away from Madeline, Damon began to press down on the trigger.

But the shot did not remain clear.

Madeline grabbed Elena by the opposite hand, surging magic through her body that burst like fire through one hand and out of the other.

The trigger was pressed.

The burn caused Gabe to release his grip on Elena's hand and watched in dread as Madeline pulled her in, turning half circle, whipping her in until they were face-to-face.

Over Madeline's shoulder, Elena saw Damon's face contort in horror as the stake released. It was powerful enough to go through the both of them, Elena remembered. She didn't even have time to blink as a sudden force pushed her back. But instead of feeling the pain of the stake penetrating her chest, she saw the pain of two brown eyes that had replaced the blue ones milliseconds before.

Gabe had run in between them… taking the hit for her.

Her breath shuddering, her body trembling, Elena looked down between them to see the tip of the stake protruding from Gabe's stomach. She flinched, startled, taking a step back, as Madeline's body slumped down onto the floor behind him.

Elena suddenly couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe.

"Elena, breathe," Gabe told her, as Damon raced to her side.

Pulling his wife into his arms, his features still twisted into the fear that hadn't yet released him, Damon wasn't sure if he was reassuring her or reassuring himself as he repeated, "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay."

Gabe dug his fingers beneath the skin of his stomach, trying to dig out the stake. It had been a smooth shot, striking no bones that he would need to dislodge it from, but his fingers, soaked in blood, couldn't maintain a grip. He could hear Madeline's shocked and shallow gasps at his feet. He didn't have time to worry about himself.

So, with the stake still lodged within him, he kneeled beside Madeline, wiping the blood from his fingertips into her open mouth. "Swallow to heal, or die and be turned," he told her. He'd already given her some of his vampire blood earlier in the hospital to stop her post-natal hemorrhaging. Those were her two choices now, and, looking into her glassy eyes, he wasn't even sure she was coherent enough to understand him.

Then, a moment later, her mouth closed, and her throat bobbed. She'd swallowed.

Before he'd even had time to stand, he felt a hand against his back, a fist digging into him, grabbing onto the protruding end of the stake, and wrenching it from his body. The shock left Gabe stumbling to the floor, rolling onto his back beside Madeline. Holy shit, that had hurt. He'd not been prepared for that.

Damon loomed above him, grasping the bloody stake in annoyance like it was a consolation trophy, glaring down at the two bodies below.

Gabe took a deep breath. "Little warning next time?" he suggested.

"Next time, I'll leave it in," Damon warned. The guy may have saved his wife, but he was also the reason she'd got caught up in this mess. His forgiveness was only going to stretch so far.

Elena came up next to her husband, taking him by the arm, and looking down at Gabe. "Do you need some of my blood?"

Gabe couldn't help but chuckle at that offer. What was it she'd said? If her husband staked her then she wasn't going to offer him any more of her blood? She really did have a heart of gold. "No," he assured her. "It'll heal on its own."

Bonnie stepped hesitantly onto the scene, looking down at the witch they'd defeated. Her eyes were now closed, but she was breathing through the pain, waiting to heal. Bonnie unfortunately recognized her. "She's part of a local coven. Her husband, Dimitri, has some powerful connections. Is she going to be okay?"

"Unfortunately, she will," Damon grumbled. He lowered himself, searching through Madeline's pockets to find a cell phone. When he finally found it, he grabbed her hand, using her fingerprint to unlock it. "Let's give the lucky guy a call to pick up this crazy ass bitch."

Forty minutes later, Dimitri arrived. He strode up to them slowly like this wasn't his biggest priority of the day, and wasn't impressed at the sight of his wife crouched on the ground, her hands wrapped around her knees, while two men stood over her, weapons pointed vigilantly in her direction. "Is this really necessary?" he sighed wearily.

"What do you think?" Damon snarked, gesturing to the dried blood on the floor around them. The guy had taken his sweet time arriving—two terrified hospital staff, having wandered onto the scene during that time, needed their memories wiped—and Damon was in no mood to take condescension from someone sporting a calf-length embroidered cape and a man bun, looking like he'd been reluctantly pulled out from a Twilight cosplay convention.

Dimitri made his way toward Gabe, staring him in the face, scrutinizing him. So this was his wife's ex-lover? What a pity. He'd thought after staking him in the hospital ten months ago that he'd be dead by now. He didn't hold any recognition in his eyes, so it seemed like the attack from behind had paid off, rendering it unsolved. But the question remained: why was he suddenly back in Mystic Falls? Dimitri took a step backward, out of Gabe's personal space, before he suspected anything. "Why, exactly, was there bloodshed?"

"Your wife attacked me," Elena explained, then gestured towards Gabe. "She tried to attack Gabe too."

This information was irrelevant to Dimitri. "I'm sorry, my dear, I should have been more specific. Why, exactly, was blood shed from the body of my wife?" He paced over to Madeline, sweeping his palm over her, reacquainting them with the blood that stained his wife's pale chest, just below her ribcage, through a gaping hole in her dark top.

Gabe didn't want to get into this. He just wanted her gone. "I healed her with my blood. That's all you need to know."

Dimitri dropped his head in understanding: this was not up for discussion. So, if he couldn't take it up with them, then he would take it up with his wife. He looked down at her—trembling, frightened, a poor excuse for a witch—and said firmly, "Madeline, get up and go to the car."

Doing as commanded, Madeline staggered to her feet and scurried to the end of the parking lot where her husband's car awaited her.

Watching her disappear into the darkness, Dimitri turned his head back towards the group, scanning his eyes over them, committing their faces to memory. "It is a remarkable feat to overpower one of the witches of my coven. You have quite the friendship group. I almost admire that." His eyes stopped on Gabe. "Keep them close, Gabriel Morelli—you're going to be needing them." And, with those final words, he turned and followed Madeline to the car.

Gabe's jaw clenched. "Is that some kind of a threat?" he muttered to himself. "And how the hell does he know my full name?"

Damon sighed, relieved that it was finally over. "I think we could all do with a stiff drink." Then, he leaned down, kissing his wife, stroking her baby bump. "Less of the 'stiff' for you now, honey, but if you're lucky you might get it later." He accepted her playful whack on the arm, basking in her pinched smile. He was not letting this woman out of his sight again until their baby was born—she could complain all she liked about it.

Then, wrapping his arm over her shoulders and interlinking his other arm with Bonnie, Damon started guiding them away. After a few steps, he paused—a long, contemplative pause—before looking back over his shoulder. He might regret this but, he had to admit, the guy had done good tonight. "Are you coming, Gabe?"

Gabe looked startled, spluttering, "Me? For a drink?"

"Calm down," Damon retorted. "You protected my wife. You've earned yourself one drink. That does not make us friends."

Gabe smiled. That was a better offer than he felt he deserved.

Catching up to them, they walked to Damon's car where he helped Elena into the passenger seat. Dimitri's car started up not too far away from them and he saw Madeline turn her head, her sad eyes locking onto Gabe through the window. He knew more about her husband than he cared to know—she would face repercussions for her behavior tonight, and, despite everything, the thought saddened him. But he also couldn't help but reflect on Dimitri's parting words, wondering how much her husband knew about him, and whether his threatening tone was just the start of something bigger.

As they drove away, it wasn't just Gabe who had noticed Madeline staring at him through the window—Dimitri had noticed it too.

Dimitri gripped the steering wheel tightly, not saying a word to his wife until they had pulled out of the parking garage. She had made a complete fool out of him tonight—a laughingstock—in front of a Bennett witch too. Whatever had taken place between her and Gabe, it was clear that he had lost interest in her. Had she expected to win him back? She should have been thanking her lucky stars that he allowed this sham of a marriage to continue after discovering her affair ten months ago. He only did so for the sake of the child. Now her dirty secret was out in the open, and she was going to pay for that.

"You can first start by telling me how a Bennett witch got involved in all this," he said firmly.

Madeline rested her head against the car window. Of course that was all he cared about: his precious reputation among witches. "I attacked her friend," was the only answer she offered.

"Why?" he persisted.

Madeline lifted her head. This was going to be a long journey. She sighed. "Because when I thought I'd killed Gabe, she healed him." Perhaps that answer would satisfy him. After all, he'd somehow found out everything there was to know about Gabe and her affair with him. Why wouldn't her husband want him dead?

Dimitri clenched his jaw. It seemed that vampire just kept bouncing back from near death. "How exactly did she heal him?"

Madeline slowly turned her head towards him with a weak, exhausted smile. Maybe she did have some information that would satisfy him. Possibly even satisfy him enough to escape his punishment tonight. "Her blood once contained the cure to vampirism," she divulged. "It cured him ten months ago and he came back to her for more." Her smile spread smugly. She could still remember her husband gloating that he had killed Gabe, all the while knowing he was still alive. But since it wasn't long afterward that Gabe disappeared from her life for good, perhaps she shouldn't feel so smug about his survival. She didn't know it back then, but Dimitri would have done her a huge favor if he'd succeeded.

Dimitri was quiet for a moment, reflecting on this information. "Her blood was in his system ten months ago?"

"Mm-hmm," she confirmed.

He nodded, absorbing this. He'd long suspected that the cure was more than an urban legend. He'd done studies into it. But he never believed he would eventually discover someone who had actually taken it. Even more interesting was the fact that the blood could be used to heal vampires.

Ten months ago… ten months ago… ten months ago…

He quickly determined the blood also contained the power to heal something else within vampires.

With a sharp turn, Dimitri pulled off the highway and onto a side road lined with tall trees.

Madeline's eyebrows lowered at the direction he'd just taken, darting her head around. "This isn't the way to our house, Dimitri."

"Our house is exactly where you should have been tonight," he reminded her, "caring for your newborn son."

"Our newborn son," Madeline corrected, "and I was in the hospital, almost dying from a hemorrhage—not that you'd care."

Dimitri's eyes continued to face forward. "I suppose it was the blood of your ex-lover which saved you from that?" he asked sharply.

Madeline sniffed and rested her head back against the window, refusing to deign him with a response. If he intended to take her to some secluded spot to inflict his punishment on her, she needed to preserve her energy.

Pulling the car over to the side of the road, Dimitri switched off the engine. His eyes drifted over to his wife, her body slumped in a morose, self-pitying posture. He couldn't go on like this. She was a shame on him, a shame on her coven, and a shame on her son. He sighed heavily. "I paid a visit to Evangeline this afternoon."

Madeline's head shot up, her face whipping around to face him, her expression horrified. Evangeline was a witch, her friend, and her doula—Dimitri had never expressed an interest in meeting her before. "W-why?" she stuttered. She tried to steady her voice. "What did you speak to her about?"

"She performed a spell for me," he informed her casually. "Under great duress, I might add." He watched Madeline grip the edges of her seat as she swallowed back her nerves. He was glad she was feeling this way—she had a lot to be nervous about. "You need to understand, Madeline, that when a man has a wife who is a whore, he ultimately needs to check the paternity of the child he's about to raise."

Her heart hammered, trying to shake off the terrifying ache within her. She waited for him to continue, but he was testing her—toying with her—daring her to speak first. So, she did. "What did you find out?"

He looked down, releasing a slow breath. It was forbidden to do this to another witch, especially one without the power to fight back. His wife had always been the most creative one in his coven: she invented spells and contraptions that had delighted him and made him proud, even knowing she lacked the strength and discipline to master them. But he'd lost that pride in her long ago. She was a mess compared to the visionary she used to be—and he blamed Gabe Morelli for that. He'd sucked the life out of her… and now it was time to euthanize what little remained.

Madeline screamed piercingly, clutching at her skull. "Don't, please—"

No, he would not listen to her beg. He redirected the aneurysm spell to her left hemisphere, shutting down her speech production first. It had her garbling inarticulately for a moment, but it was far more preferable to the sound of her pleading for her life.

He maintained the spell, directing it to other areas of her brain. Soon the pain would be so unbearable, she would pass out. Maybe he should fill her in on his plans first. "I am going to take great joy in raising your son and torturing him in ways that you would find unforgivable," he said calmly. "I will teach him that vampires are something to be hated, and he will learn to hate you in the process."

Madeline's body became limp—too limp to even hold herself upright—and she collapsed sideways onto the window that she sulked upon so often. Very fitting.

Dimitri leaned his head forward, seeing her eyelids still fluttering. She was still conscious… for now. Slowly dying, but still able to hear him. "The blood of Gabe Morelli is in your system, which means you're about to become a vampire… and your son will loathe you for it. He will watch me torture you just as I torture him." He moved closer, forming a snarl. "Gabe Morelli is NOT your savior this time, Madeline, and he will never—never—learn of his son."

With a final flutter of her eyelashes, the lids finally closed, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

He left her in that position. No need to restrain her. He had enough time to get her to the place she needed to be before she turned. But he couldn't afford to waste more of it. So, with a smirk, Dimitri started up the car. "Welcome to your new life, Madeline. You've earned it."