Addendum: Outtakes

by SergeantPixie

Cut scenes and flashbacks from Addendum.

13. St Augustine

AN: For clarity this outtake is called St. Augustine but we spend a lot of time in Mystic Falls and we visit a few other places too, but we're gonna start at cheer camp.

St. Augustine of Hippo was the theoligan who wrote the doctrine of Original Sin. Just something to keep in mind while reading this.

In the process of writing this I often said to my friends that I knew I was heading in the right direction story-wise if something I thought of made me feel sick to my stomach. I really want you to keep that in mind while reading this, because it is not for the faint of heart. This is by no means required reading. You can get enough of the gist of this in chapter 23 of the main story. But I really needed to write this for myself, and for anyone who wants to read it, here it is. You also might've notice that I posted the first half of this as it's own separate story. It's not for reach, I don't really care about that. But it is the part of the story that I always wanted to tell about The Vampire Diaries as a show; the Petrovas as pretenaturally beautiful women who lived in the real world and thus experienced real world consequences for their beauty, and Elena as an individual and how this informs her decisions and the way she interacts with men. I do think this version is the more satisfying version, I think without the ending that explores Elena's journey as a hunter this story is just incredibly depressing, but I still think it's important.

This was deeply traumatic to write in a way and also incredibly therapuetic at the same time. There were days after writing certain parts where I woke up crying - or times where I woke up gasping for air. Some of it is based off of my real life, or things that happened to other women I know. Most girls have stories like these, sadly.

I spend a lot of time talking about how charming and pretty Elena is in the main story, so I felt like it was really important to talk about how once upon a time this was genuinely traumatizing for her. After all, there are always men who decide girls are old enough before they're ready, of course it would happen to Elena - and is heavily implied to have happened to Isobel and Katherine. In essence I am hoping to answer the question: "How did a girl like Elena Gilbert become a girl like Elena Gilbert?" If that question seems familiar, it's from Pretty Little Liars, about Alison DiLaurentis. That is absolutely an intentional comparison.

Addendum: Outtakes

Referenced in Ch. 18

St. Augustine

Trinity, Texas: July 2010

"Something tipped me over, someone knocked me down / Emptied out my insides, poured them on the ground…" -Broods, "Worth The Fight"

The first time Elena hears the word jailbait used to describe her; she is 13 years old. Elena has always been pretty – maybe pretty is too soft a word. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Elena has heard them all. Up until now the chosen phrase to neatly box up her effect had been, "Wow, you're sure gonna be a heartbreaker, someday." And it sounded exciting: Someday. Being a future heartbreaker seemed terribly romantic.

Now, she is 13, it is just after their first lunch at cheer camp the summer before seventh grade, and Caleb, her favorite counselor, has cornered her behind the mess hall. His fingers play lightly with her curls, untamed and free of products, they are still the wild curls of childhood.

"Geez, Elena Gilbert, you got so grown-up since last year," he is saying, smiling that ultra-white smile that makes his dark eyes crinkle and his dimples standout. His breath smells like mint gum and the hot dog he had for lunch and something so distinctly male that there is a feeling in her stomach she's never felt before.

Elena smiles and says thank you, because what else is she supposed to say? She is thirteen and she is very grown up now. Everyone says so, her mom and dad, her Aunt Jenna and her Uncle John, all her parents' friends, the mailman, the cook in the mess hall who gave her an extra cookie and called her gorgeous, and now, Caleb. Caleb, who all the junior cheer girls swoon over. Caleb, who tugs on her curls one last time before he reluctantly steps back to stop blocking her way.

It's no surprise that she barely makes it around the corner before her wavering knees put her on her butt. She might be out of sight, but she's certainly not out of mind when the cook comes out to join Caleb for a smoke.

"You're fucking kidding me, 13?"

"Yeah, man, thirt-fucking-teen."

"You gotta be shitting me."

"It's the junior high cheerleaders – high schoolers don't get her until August - the oldest are like 15, but Elena Gilbert? She's been 13 for a month, maybe two."

"Fuck, what a waste."

"You're telling me."

"I never knew jailbait could look so sweet."

"She let me touch her hair."

"Shit, really?"

"Took everything I had not to yank it – those fucking curls man, they're just taunting me."

"You're not gonna…are you?"

"Nah man, I don't fuck babies. A man can dream, though."

"Sweet dreams indeed."

"Shit, I gotta be on the field to lead a falling exercise like now, later, man."

Elena is up and sprinting before he turns the corner, but she knows he must've seen her – he must know that she heard everything.

Later, in her cabin, Elena waits for Bonnie's straightening iron to heat up. Her knees are still wobbly, so she shoves the chair from her assigned desk in front of the bathroom mirror.

She has the straightening iron clamped down on one flawless ringlet when Bonnie and Caroline walk in.

"Elena, no!" Caroline shrieks. "Your curls are perfect!"

"No," Elena says, yanking the iron down her curl, the sizzling lost under the roaring sound in her ears. "They aren't. They're babyish." Her hands shake but her voice does not.

Bonnie and Caroline stand in the bathroom doorway, staring at their distraught friend. Elena says nothing, just continues on, mechanically straightening hair like they are not there at all. Finally, Bonnie steps over the threshold and into the bathroom with Elena.

"Caroline, go get the hairspray from my bag," she says with more confidence than she feels. She might not know what's wrong with Elena, but she knows hair.

She takes the iron from Elena, expertly plucking a curl and pulling the iron over it with ease.

"Elena, with the humidity and all the cheers and phys-ed stuff, your hair is probably gonna end up curling by the end of the day, even with hairspray."

Elena bites down on her tongue, nodding.

---

She's first on the field the next morning, her straight hair in an impeccably high ponytail, spine straight as a pin. She is thinking of the cathedral of her ribcage, the way her spine expands, the way her shoulders point outward – the way her ballet instructor talked them through their barre routines, like learning for the first time how to perform in her body.

As the other girls arrive, she feels them stare. They assess her newly straightened hair, the height of her ponytail, her perfect posture and this feels like power. Knowing that they are looking at her in awe feels better than Caleb's fingers in her baby curls felt, before she knew what he meant by it. Caroline and Bonnie arrive and the three of them exchange giddy glances and grins.

The counselors arrive on field finally. Tessie, the head counselor, calling for a warm-up. Elena steadfastly ignores Caleb, but she can feel his gaze pinned to her. She tells herself it feels just like everyone else's and the longer she doesn't look at him the less her stomach roils. Until she feels powerful again, knowing every girl on the field is watching her through the warm-up. She hits every move like they're mid-competition, not just practicing.

The empowered feeling lasts until she volunteers to show off a tumbling move and Caleb is the counselor assigned to be her spotter. Her stomach roils again, her knees wobble as she makes her way to the front.

"Get your cute butt up here, Gilbert!" Tessie chirps.

She is face-to-face with Caleb and his face is unreadable.

"I don't want him to touch me," she blurts out suddenly.

Tessie's smile drops immediately. "Elena, honey, you don't mean that," she says gravely.

Elena looks at her, eyes wide, taken aback at her reproachful tone.

Tessie's face softens, she steps closer. "Sweetie, you don't want anyone to think he did something to you, now do you?" she asks, her voice low so only Elena and Caleb can hear her.

Elena's stomach twists. She cannot look at Caleb. He is a dark figure at the edge of her vision, the lead in her stomach. Distantly she thinks, but he did do something. She imagines saying, out loud, in front of everyone, "He touched my hair. He called me Jailbait."

Without thinking, she looks at Caleb. She looks away immediately, heart thudding, back to Tessie, who looks genuinely concerned now and Elena knows she must say something. Suddenly it feels stupid, to be afraid because he touched her hair and said she was pretty. What girl at camp didn't want those things to happen to her? At the back of her mind, a dark thought, what if it was her fault? She liked when all the girls were looking at her just now, after all. Maybe she did something to make Caleb think she wanted him to touch her. Tessie is watching her, waiting for a response.

So, she reaches for the first thing she has, that one excuse every girl has.

"Cramps," she says hoarsely. "I have cramps. I-I-I don't feel well." Her stomach is roiling again, so she tells herself it's not a lie.

Tessie's face softens in sympathy, assuming Elena is embarrassed.

"Oh honey, go see the nurse then head back to your cabin. I'll have one of your bunkmates check on you later."

Elena nods numbly, her face hot. She cannot look at anyone as she leaves the field, following a trail to the medic cabin. The kind nurse gives her pain relievers and a chocolate bar and sends her on her way.

In the cabin, she curls up on her bunk, knees to her chest. Finally, she lets the tears fall. She does not bother to stifle her sobs. Her stomach in knots, whole body shaking as she remembers the look on Caleb's face when she glanced at him. He always seemed like such a nice guy. Maybe that look of pure hatred he gave her was her fault. Maybe that's what it meant to be beautiful – to be hated.

At last, she runs out of tears. Exhausted, she makes her way to the bathroom to clean her face and drink water from the tap and use the toilet, where she discovers the rusty streaks staining her panties – she hadn't lied after all. She finds a pad and fresh pair of panties then crawls back into bunk to sleep until dinner when Bonnie wakes her, her curls matted to her skin with sweat.

---

Mystic Falls: September 6, 2010

"I'm faking glory / Lick my lips, toss my hair / And turn the smile on…" -Lorde, "Bravado"

Her parents' Labor Day barbecue is the last family get together before the start of the new school year and therefore Elena's favorite summertime event.

Aunt Jenna has already started her grad school classes and is in full wild child mode with spiked lemonade and stories about what the seventh grade was like for her. Jeremy's only excitement for sixth grade is that he and Elena will finally be in the same school again after a torturous year without her in fifth grade. Uncle John is there too, trying too hard to please Elena and getting under her skin as he always has.

However, this year Elena is on a mission and Uncle John's willingness to please is exactly what she needs, so she swallows her annoyance and sticks close to him, waiting for a moment when everyone else isn't around.

Through a steady process of elimination since arriving home from cheer camp Elena has figured out that Uncle John is the safest person to get information from. Her friends might be as ignorant as she is, and Jeremy, only 11, surely won't know, and she is certain asking Aunt Jenna will only result in her laughing nervously and telling her to ask her parents, a moot question.

Finally, there is a chance when Miranda runs out of watermelon and Uncle John volunteers to cut up some more.

Surreptitiously Elena tries to follow him into the kitchen. Aunt Jenna pounces, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around.

"Laney-girl!" she shouts gleefully.

"Aunt Jenna!" Elena shrieks, delighted as her aunt sends them both careening backwards into the grass.

"C'mon, Princess," Jenna says, laughing with her arms around her niece as they lay in a heap in the grass. "You haven't told me a thing about your summer yet!"

Elena giggles, delighted by the attention her aunt is showering her with. But she's on a mission, and she knows what she needs to do.

"Okay, okay! I just have to go to the bathroom first."

Jenna releases her.

Elena scrambles up, making for the back door.

"Bring me back a popsicle!" she calls after her.

Elena finds Uncle John in the kitchen, looking around with a miffed expression on his face.

"Elena!" he says her name with surprised pleasure. "Would you like more juice?" he asks her eagerly.

Elena resists the urge to roll her eyes – Uncle John always treats her like she is all of five years old.

"No thank you, Uncle John," she recites obediently. "I was wondering if you need any help?" she asks politely.

"Oh sure," he says with that same mixed tone of surprise and pleasure. It's not everyday Elena picks helping John over talking with Jenna. "Actually, I'm having some trouble locating a cutting board."

"Mama probably hid the good wooden one so Aunt Jenna wouldn't accidentally put it in the dishwasher again," Elena explains as she crosses the kitchen to the stove. Sure enough, when she opens the oven, the nice wooden cutting board Miranda inherited from her grandmother is there.

"Good job, Elena," John praises her, taking the cutting board from her to give it a good rinse.

Elena finds the butcher's knife and then knocks on the watermelons, ear pressed to each one diligently.

"I never understood why you do that," Uncle John admits with a laugh.

"If it sounds like knocking on a door that means its ripe," Elena explains.

"Really?" he asks, intrigued.

She nods, then points to the middle watermelon. "Try this one."

So John walks over, bending over to put his ear to the watermelon, he knocks on it.

"It does sound like wood," he marvels.

"Try this one," Elena points to another.

He complies.

"It sounds higher pitched," he says.

She nods as sagely as a thirteen-year-old girl can. "It's not ripe yet."

John nods seriously, picking up the middle one to take over to the cutting board.

Elena climbs up onto a stool at the island to watch him work.

"Are you excited about starting seventh grade?" John asks, delighted to have her undivided attention without any duress.

She nods. "Yeah, I am," she says absentmindedly, distracted by how she's going to ask the question.

He shakes his head ruefully. "I can't believe you're gonna be in seventh grade, you're growing up so fast!"

She smiles automatically. Growing up fast doesn't sound so exciting anymore.

"Feels like just yesterday your parents were bringing you home…" he trails off, pausing mid-chop to stare at her wistfully.

He shakes it off, continuing chopping.

"You're gonna have a great time in seventh grade," he continues.

"What's jailbait?" she blurts out inelegantly.

John's grip on the watermelon falters and it slips out from his grasp, a huge piece crashing to the floor, spraying red in every direction.

"Shit!" he exclaims, dropping the knife on the counter.

Elena jumps up to help him clean, feeling guilty, but John has other ideas. He grasps her by her shoulder.

"Never mind that, I can clean it up in a minute. Tell me where you heard that word," he says.

Elena stares at him with wide eyes.

"In a movie," she says finally.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

She nods. "It was just in a movie, Uncle John."

He sighs, releasing her.

"It's a disgusting term," he says. "And you need to tell Grayson immediately if anyone ever refers to you as that, all right?"

She nods obediently.

"I promise," she lies.

---

Mystic Falls: October 2010

Before the first school dance of seventh grade Matt Donovan asks Elena Gilbert to be his girlfriend, and she says yes without hesitation. He's her best friend, after all. She knows she can trust him. He never yanks on her ponytail, like Tyler Lockwood, or leers at her in her cheer uniform like Marcus Fell. He tells her she looks pretty and walks her to class and always asks about her day. He checks every box and he's her best friend and best of all, the phrase, "I have a boyfriend" is better protection than any high ponytail or thousand-yard stare she's perfected.

A girl has to protect herself, her mama always says.

So, when Matt hands Elena a handpicked bouquet of daisies behind the gym and asks, "Do you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend?" she smiles, takes the flowers, and nods her head.

"Yes, of course," she answers, like she knows she should.

He grins at her, bashfully leaning in for their first kiss and if she thinks I've had better at cheer camp, well, that's okay. She can teach him. They have time.

---

Mystic Falls: September 1, 2011

"I've already lost / I should know better..." -Transviolet, "Pretty Head"

"Hello Miss Elena, is your mama home?" Joel Callum asks, smile congenially at the young girl in front of him. "I need her signature for this package."

Joel has been the mailman for her neighborhood since Elena was in diapers.

Today Elena is wearing her new summer dress, white with pink roses fluttering about her thighs, making her feel very pretty and grown up.

"Hi Mr. Joel," Elena greets him with pleasure. "Mama's home, I'll go get her now."

"Take your time now," he says distractedly as he sorts out the other pieces of mail for the Gilberts'.

Elena skips eagerly to the kitchen where her mom is wrangling dinner.

"Mama, Mr. Joel needs your signature," she tells her.

"Tell him I'll be there in a minute, Junebug," Miranda Gilbert says, not taking her eye off the scallops that need to be taken off the stove in only a moment.

"Yes Ma'am," Elena says obediently, turning on her heel.

"Mama's watching the scallops," Elena reports diligently. "She'll be here in a minute," she assures him.

"Not a problem," he assures her. "You and I can chat a minute," he says deliberately. "You excited to go into the 8th grade?" he asks.

Elena nods eagerly. "Yessir!" she affirms. "I'm so excited for the school year to begin."

"And is cheer camp already done?" he asks.

She nods, subdued. "Yessir," she recites obediently. "My team won the camp-wide tournament," she adds with significantly more pleasure. Cheer camp was much better this year, since Caleb hadn't come back.

"Oh, I'm sure they did," he says indulgently. "You've got personality for days, Miss Elena," he says with relish.

"Thank you, Mr. Joel," she says, flushed with pleasure.

"I sure wish you could've seen you perform," he continues significantly.

"Oh," she says, startled. "Our team was very good."

"I'm sure you were a little firecracker out on that floor."

Elena cannot explain the way her heart feels like it's trying to beat out of her chest. She's known Joel Callum all her life, and she's never once been afraid of him, but this tastes very much like fear.

Mutely she nods.

Joel smiles a friendly smile at the middle schooler. He shifts to lean against the door, and in one swoop, all the envelopes fall from his hand.

"Whoops," he says, still smiling. "I sure am clumsy."

"Here, let me help you," Elena says, grateful to have something to do.

She starts to stoop down to scoop up the letters.

No," Joel says firmly. "You stay right there, Miss Elena."

When Miranda Gilbert enters the front hallway her daughter stands frozen in her socks, clenching her fist into the skirt of her pretty white sundress.

Joel Callum is on his knees before her, letters scattered across the threshold of her home, his eyes raised.

"Elena," she calls, voice even. "Go tell Jeremy it's his turn to set the table."

Elena nods obediently, making a break for the stairs immediately.

"What's this package you need me to sign for, Mr. Callum?" Miranda asks.

Joel raises to his feet, the Gilberts' mail gathered in his arms.

"Just this one from the college, Ma'am," he says congenially.

Later, Miranda will delicately suggest that perhaps Elena is a bit too long-legged for such a short dress, and Elena will never wear that dress again.

"Modesty is so very elegant, Elena," Miranda will say. "You are such a pretty girl; nothing can change that – not even covering up a bit."

Joel Callum is fired from the post office the very next day.

---

Mystic Falls: November 8, 2011

"You see my peep-show booth is handy / There's a one-way-only mirror / So I can dance here with my hair down / But I don't see if you get bitter / And there's a button right beside me / If I happen to want a wall to hide me / if only the ballerina had one too…" – Missy Higgins, "Sugarcane"

"To continue our unit on Greek mythology, today we will learn about the sirens," Ms. Tillman announces. A new, young English teacher, she is eager to engage her students in her favorite subject.

"They had police sirens in Ancient Greece?" Matt Donovan asks, confused, making everyone laugh.

"She's talking about the singing monsters, stupid!" Caroline says.

"Caroline, no insults," Ms. Tillman scolds patiently. "But you're correct," she continues. "Sirens are sea creatures who lured sailors to their deaths with nothing but the sound of their voices."

"So, they're like mermaids?" Bonnie asks.

"Actually, according to some legends, they were part bird, not part fish," Ms. Tillman answers.

"Yeah, but were they hot?" Tyler Lockwood shouts from the back of the classroom.

Ms. Tillman shakes her head disapprovingly. "While being described as possessing the faces of beautiful maidens, what made the sirens so irresistible was their voices. They were said to sing beautiful, hypnotic songs that promised the sailors their hearts' desires if they just came a little closer." She smiles enticingly. "Right up to the rocks."

"It probably wouldn't have worked if they weren't beautiful," Tyler argues. "No one wants to hear the fat chick sing."

"Not everything is about the way women look, Tyler," Elena argues, speaking up for the first time.

"Says you!" Tyler gestures at Elena's face, flustering her.

For a moment, everyone stops to look at her, drinking her in. All of her friends are going through their awkward phase, they all look a little funny, with acne and braces and frizzy hair. But not Elena. Elena is just perfect, like she's been at every stage of life. Her hair falls just right, her skin is clear, her eyes bright and curious.

"Correct, Elena," Ms. Tillman says, breaking the silence and blessing her with a special smile for her favorite student. "Odysseus doesn't ask his crew to free him from his bindings to the boat because he finds the sirens beautiful, he asks to be set free because they promise to tell him secrets about the Trojan War, the war that would define his life."

"But his men don't listen, right?" Bonnie asks. "They have wax in their ears so they can't hear."

Ms. Tillman nods. "They keep rowing until they escape the sirens' lure."

"That's boring," Tyler says. "What's the point of hot scary chicks if they don't kill anyone?"

"In a hero's journey story, we often find that our hero does the impossible," Ms. Tillman answers.

"What do you think they sound like, Ms. Tillman?" Caroline asks. "Adele or maybe Beyonce?"

"Who cares!" Tyler shouts. "I'm imagining they're all as hot as Kate Upton!"

"That's enough, Tyler," Ms. Tillman says calmly. "I don't know, Caroline, I imagine their voices would be beyond human comprehension, since they were said to be the children of the river god, Achelous."

"So would they be hotter than Kate Upton too?" Tyler asks, perfectly serious.

Against her better judgement, Ms. Tillman stifles a laugh. "Yes, Tyler, sirens would be a step beyond the humanly definition of beauty – approaching something preternatural."

"That's weird," Matt says. "Imagining the prettiest girl you know as a bird," he explains. Everyone laughs again.

Against her will, Ms. Tillman glances at Elena Gilbert, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder, casting enticing shadows on her lovely face.

"Greek Mythology is often strange," she says distantly. "The bell is about to ring," she says after a moment, coming back to herself. "Next time we will discuss the Trojan War, and the tragic beauty at its center, her name was Helen."

---

Grove Hill, Virginia: February 1, 2012

"I was every single girl, I was nobody else / I was so sure of myself / I was fifteen and a half / He was a hollow laugh…" -Girl Blue, "Lolita"

"Slow the tempo Miss Gilbert," Mr. Crawford instructs.

Elena complies instantly, her hands dancing across the piano keys with ease. At only fourteen, she is an accomplished pianist.

"Much better," he says. He closes his eyes, listening to the music.

She smiles, pleased. Mr. Crawford has only been her piano teacher since October when her former teacher, Liana Fell, got married and moved to Atlanta. Not wanting to leave her students in a lurch, Liana recommended her students to various colleagues in the area. Elena, her prized student, is the only one sent to Mr. Crawford, a particular and demanding teacher.

"Sustain," he tells her.

Automatically her foot presses down on the right pedal.

"Hear it?" he asks.

"Yessir," she replies.

Mr. Crawford's ranch-style home is always stifling hot, a contrast to the airy old Fell house Liana taught her. It was her grandmama's house, and old Mrs. Fell used to feed Elena sweet tea and ginger snaps after her lessons while they waited for her mama to pick her up. Here Elena has always had to make sure she's wearing a thin blouse and skirts in order to not suffocate.

"Lighter," he instructs suddenly.

Elena's fingers fly across the keys.

"Ease up."

She lets her foot off the right pedal slowly.

Mr. Crawford, who only takes students by audition, had been reluctant to even listen to Elena play. After nearly eight years under the tutelage of Liana Fell, she had too many years of bad habits built up. But there was something about the way she touched the keys that very first time that gave him pause.

When Elena finishes the piece the silence around them echoes.

"You may go," he says finally. "Next week we will begin a new piece, in the meantime: practice."

"Yessir," Elena says.

She gathers her sheet music, returning them to their folder, packing up in only a few moments. Bag over her shoulder she bids Mr. Crawford goodbye with a breezy smile. As she rushes past him out the door, her long hair skims across his forearm, making him shiver.

He watches out the window as she walks down his street, humming to herself. He does not take his eyes off of her until she is out of sight. Mr. Crawford lives his life for Wednesday afternoons.

---

Grove Hill, Virginia: February 8, 2012

"Beethoven wrote Für Elise for one of his students," Mr. Crawford tells Elena, staring at the back of her head.

"Elise was not a particularly talented pianist, but Ludwig was…" he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Fond of her," he settles on finally. "So, he began the composition with her limitations in mind, composing a simple but charming melody."

"It becomes so complex later," Elena observes, her voice quiet. She's never liked the way her voice echoes through his sparse music room. His house is so stuffy she doesn't know how he stands it in his cable knit sweater. Even in her tank top she can feel the sweat trickling between her breasts.

"Yes, well…" Mr. Crawford hems and haws for a moment before getting to the facts. "She announced her engagement to another man before Beethoven had completed the piece," he admits. The implication is clear, the complexity was an ubiquitous screw you from Beethoven to his untalented student.

Elena frowns. "That isn't very kind."

"She wasn't very talented," he replies. "Not like you," he adds quietly.

---

Grove Hill, Virginia: February 15, 2012

"Like this," Mr. Crawford instructs.

Standing behind Elena, he reaches an arm down to cover her fingers with his own. He presses her fingers gently, coaxing out the light tones of the composition. Cradled in his one-armed embrace, Elena finds herself frozen. His breath is hot on her cheek, and though she stares down at their hands, she can't ignore the fact that he is looking at her, not the keys in front of them.

The heat of him pressed against her bare skin is unbearable.

"Understand?" he asks softly.

"Yes," she says shakily. "I understand."

He removes his fingers from her own reluctantly and her hands shake as he strokes his down the delicate bones of her own. As he stands he grips her bare shoulder, squeezing it once before moving away from her, caressing her hair as he leaves.

"I think we're done for the day," he says, walking away from her to stand at the window. "We will continue with the same piece next week. Please don't neglect to practice again."

"Yessir," she says automatically. She gathers her things on autopilot, far too aware of the man across the room.

As she leaves his house she thinks of nothing but the feeling of his wedding ring against her finger. By the time her mom picks her up at the park on the corner Elena has rehearsed a neat little speech about wanting to be taught by old Mrs. Fell, who, after all, lived three blocks away and not an hour drive away, and taught Miss Liana, anyway.

This is not the last time Elena sees Mr. Crawford.

---

Mystic Falls: October 19, 2012

"We are the reckless, we are the wild youth / Chasing visions of our future..." -Daughter, "Youth"

Freshman year at Mystic Falls High School you take Biology I. Elena Gilbert is fifteen and utterly perfect. She wears her hair perfectly straight every day and smiles at everyone.

On Friday nights she tells her mom they are staying at Bonnie's, and they head to the Falls where the Seniors feed them bourbon mixed with sweet tea and topped with maraschino cherries, and no one lasts longer doing keg stands than Elena.

On Saturday nights she tells her dad they're staying at Caroline's, and they head the dive bar on the interstate where Elena tosses her perfectly straight hair and smiles her bewitching smile and flirts with the bouncer, and no one ever remembers to ask for I.D.

Sunday afternoons they lay around the Gilbert living room, Bonnie and Caroline nursing hangover and Elena smoothing away her parents' suspicions with her best cheerleader pep and begging for help with their weekend homework.

Mr. Jameson is the freshman biology teacher. Caroline calls him a silver fox and Bonnie calls him distinguished and Elena calls him stuffy. He calls Elena a revelation.

"Really, Elena, you could be a great scientist with a little guidance," he tells her, eyes fixed on the fall of her dark hair and the curve of her smile.

"Well," she says, hedging her bets like a born player. "I'm not sure exactly what I want to study."

"You have a gift, Elena," he continues eagerly, watching the way her lashes brush against her cheeks. "It would be a shame to waste it."

"Are you saying I should get a tutor?" she asks, still hesitant.

"Oh, there's no need for that," he says hastily. "I'll teach you myself," he adds magnanimously.

His eyes are fixed on her, pinning her to the spot, and she knows the attention should make her feel important, but instead she feels caught.

"I don't know what I want," she says again. "I don't think I want to do anything too serious now," she adds hastily.

"Really Elena," he says disapprovingly. "You don't want to leave this kind of thing to the last minute. Genius can fade to failure just as quickly as promise bursts into brilliance."

She hesitates. She has always been pretty – no one ever questions it. No one has ever cared that she is smart too, not until Mr. Jameson. Mr. Crawford had cared about her talents as a pianist – but Elena didn't like to think about him. Mr. Crawford cared too much.

"I would have to talk to my dad first," she says weakly.

He sighs but nods. "If you must," he agrees. "Don't waste any time, spots for private tutoring will fill up quickly, Elena," he explains smoothly. "I don't have all the time in the world for you," he adds.

His eyes dart down and back up, tracing the contours of her whiplash of a body.

She nods, skin prickling.

"Thank you," she adds as he stares at her expectantly. When he smiles she knows it was the right thing to say.

---

That night Elena sits in front of her dad's desk in his home office, explaining her teacher's rationale. Dr. Gilbert keeps his eyes pinned to his daughter's face, watching the hesitation before every word she speaks, the way she shifts uncomfortably at the memory.

"Do you want to do this, Elena?" he asks her finally.

"Mr. Jameson says I show great promise," she recites.

"But do you want to do it?" he asks again.

Elena hesitates, but mutely she shakes her head.

He nods. "Then don't," he tells her simply. "There's plenty of time to discover your passion, Elena."

She hesitates again. "I don't want to disappoint anyone," she says softly.

"You could never disappoint me," Dr. Gilbert says clearly to his oldest child. "If you find later that Biology is your passion, I'll tutor you myself."

"Thanks Dad," she says. She sighs. "I guess I'll tell Mr. Jameson tomorrow," she adds gloomily. "He'll be so disappointed."

Dr. Gilbert shakes his head. "Nonsense, sweetheart," he says. "I'll take care of it," he says reassuringly. "I don't want you to say a thing to him outside of the assignment in front of you."

It's only been a few months since the ordeal with Mr. Crawford, after all. Dr. Gilbert is still giving thanks for Sheila Bennett's intervention every night in his prayers. It's best to nip this in the bud before Mr. Jameson's overtures lead them back into the nightmare they so recently escaped.

Obediently Elena nods her head.

---

By the end of the next week Mr. Jameson has resigned.

"I can't believe we're getting a new Biology teacher in the middle of the semester," Bonnie is saying as they make their way across the quad into school the Monday after.

"It's weird," Elena agrees absentmindedly.

"And last week he made you stay after class to talk," Bonnie remembers, watching her friend's face.

"He did," Elena says evenly.

"What was that about?" Bonnie asks casually.

Elena stops, searching Bonnie's face for ill intent.

"He thought I had potential," Elena replies slowly. "He wanted me to get private tutoring, with him."

Bonnie stares at her in shock, understanding the implications perfectly.

"Did you tell someone?" she asks finally.

Elena nods. "My dad."

"Good," Bonnie says fiercely. "What a creep!"

She loops her arm through Elena's, and they start walking again.

"Like seriously, who does that kind of thing?" Bonnie is visibly angry. "That is so messed up, I can't believe that actually happened to you."

Elena's chest feels like a balloon. In her head she sees a litany of men, hovering over her. Caleb at camp, his hands in her hair, the mailman on his knees beside her, Mr. Crawford looming over his shoulder, his hand atop hers, so careful as he applied pressure. Elena feels bile rise in her throat. She swallows harshly.

"Yeah," she says hollowly, "Who would do that?"

"I hope he's never allowed in a classroom again."

"He didn't do anything," Elena reminds her dully.

Bonnie stares at her incredulous.

"My dad is on the schoolboard, my mom is on the PTA," Elena reminds her. "They can make sure he doesn't teach in this district, but technically he never did anything to me. He resigned of his own free will, he'll just find a new district."

Bonnie huffs, furious.

"I hope he drops dead, first," she says viciously.

---

Mystic Falls: January 3, 2013

Elena finds Mr. Jameson's obituary on a random Thursday afternoon. He died in the middle of a job interview for an elite private school in Baton Rouge. It was a brain aneurysm.

---

Mystic Falls: October 17, 2013

"Seventeen, running from innocence / Like it's a lion / Nippin' at my heels / But I'm young, so I outrun 'em…" -Transviolet, "Girls Your Age"

Elena is sixteen and she has been dating Matt Donovan since she got back from cheer camp that fateful summer before seventh grade. Matt is safe and he always listens when she says not to touch her hair – pin straight and longer than any other girl's in her grade. Her mom won't let her get a straightening perm but with Bonnie's help she's figured out the right combination of products to keep her hair perfect for the length of the school day and even through their more brutal cheer practices.

She's staying the night at Caroline's on school night, feeling delightfully wicked for their disorderly fun on a night that is usually so full of routine and boredom.

They steal sips of bourbon between them from the flask Elena borrowed from her Aunt Jenna's purse, talking about cute boys and which girl will replace Lucy Kenneth as head cheerleader when graduates at the end of the year.

"It has to be you, Care, you're the most dedicated cheerleader on the squad." Elena has her head resting on Caroline's bare thigh. Caroline points her toes, pleased, and Elena can feel the muscles in her thigh flex beneath her cheek.

"It would be my honor," Caroline says with perfect sincerity. "But it could be you. You're the best girl on the squad." She slides her fingers into Elena's smooth hair. Elena doesn't mind when Caroline touches her hair like this, when it is late and no one else will see if her hair is not perfectly styled.

"There are girls who are as good as me," Elena insists, taking a long swig from the flask. She coughs at the burn. "And you're the best at leading practices."

"You're the best tumbler by far," Caroline counters, taking the flask she offers.

"It could be Frannie, though," Elena says.

Caroline shrieks, spraying bourbon across the room. "Over my dead body!"

The two of them giggle and shush each other, wiping bourbon from their skin and listening for any indication that they woke up Caroline's mom.

"She's a junior," Elena reminds her. "She's been on the team longer than either of us, and Coach Fallon likes her."

Caroline makes a miserable face. "I can live with it if it's you instead of me," she confesses. "But if it's Frannie Fucking Fine…"

Elena grimaces. "That's such a stupid name."

"It's the stupidest name!" Caroline agrees. "Coach Fallon only likes her because she's a suck up. You're a better dancer and a better tumbler than her, and Bonnie is a better flyer than her. It can't be Frannie."

"Coach Fallon does like suck ups," Elena says with a snort. "Should we suck up? Is it beneath us?"

"Beneath you, maybe," Caroline says frankly. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Elena laughs. "I hope it's you."

Caroline ignores her, even as her admission warms her. "I'm so serious, Elena. Anything! I'll even tell Coach Fallon I think she has a chance with Coach Tanner if that'll get me the job."

"She has a thing for Coach Tanner, seriously?"

Caroline nods. "Yeah, it's honestly kind of pathetic, she's like a decade older than him."

"I mean, I guess, but he's kind of a dick," Elena says.

"Honestly I think that's part of the appeal," Caroline says bluntly, the bourbon making her honest. "It is for me anyway."

Elena stifles a startled giggle. "You think he's hot?"

Caroline nods. "Is that fucked up?"

"Definitely."

"Oops. Don't tell, okay?"

"Never, ever."

Clumsily they get up, climbing into Caroline's bed properly, face-to-face in the center of the bed. Caroline smooths her fingers along Elena's jaw, burying her fingers in her hair, greedy for this touch that is denied to everyone else. Elena wraps her arm around Caroline's waist, her palm pressed between her shoulder blades. They fall asleep nose-to-nose.

In the morning, Elena borrows a skirt from Caroline, a little red plaid one that looks cute with her black boots and gray Henley. It's new but Caroline magnanimously allows her to wear it. Elena lends Caroline her beaded necklace, who layers it with a little silver locket her dad gave her for her sweet sixteen, only a week before, pairing it with a black and pink baby doll dress, white lace tights and shiny black Mary Janes. They share Caroline's lip gloss, a cotton candy pink that looks sweet on Caroline and sinful on Elena. Caroline helps straighten Elena's hair and in return Elena french braids her hair.

At breakfast there's no need to distract Sheriff Forbes to refill the flask because she's called in early before she can even finish quizzing them on the status of their homework – like Caroline has ever gone to school without finishing her homework, or letting Elena leave hers unfinished.

"Don't forget, we're going to the carnival right after school then spending the weekend at Bonnie's!" Caroline calls after her mother. "Do you think she heard me?" she asks Elena.

Elena shrugs. "My parents know, I'm sure they'll remind her."

They fill Jenna's flask to the brim with the good stuff and grab pop tarts to eat on the way to school.

---

Elena is behind the cotton candy booth, sipping from Jenna's flask and waiting for Jeremy when Coach Tanner busts her.

"Coach Tanner," she stammers, shoving the flask deep into her bag.

"Elena Gilbert," he says, a strange glint in his eye matching the lilt in his voice. "What are you doing back here?"

"Waiting for my brother," she says honestly. "He's bringing me my stuff for a sleepover at Bonnie's," she adds unnecessarily.

He nods, looking amused. He holds out his hand. "Hand it over."

Guiltily, Elena fishes the flask out of her bag, placing it in his palm. Before she can let go, he closes his fingers around hers, trapping her hand in his, the flask between them. His skin is hot – burning hot.

"You know we're still on school grounds, you could be expelled."

She stutters. "Please, I didn't…I mean, I'm a goo-"

He cuts her off. "A good girl?" He laughs. "Please, I've seen Donovan in the locker room, back scratched to hell." He grins, showing her his teeth. "Bitemarks deep enough to scar. I know exactly what kind of girl you are, Miss Gilbert." He lets go of her hand finally.

Blood rushes into her face, Elena can barely hear anything over the mortification overtaking her body as what he said registers to her.

Coach Tanner takes the time to take a draw from the flask. He gives it a surprised and impressed look. "Your daddy's got good taste," he says. He grins again. "Only the best for Mystic Falls' favorite daughter."

Elena can only glare up at him.

He points at her face. "There it is. Now you look like the kind of girl that could massacre a guy's back. That's the real Elena Gilbert. I never thought I'd see her." He glances around theatrically. "Where are your ladies-in-waiting?"

"What?" she asks.

"Hmmm, little Queen Bee, I'm asking where your lackeys are," he drawls.

Elena clears her throat. "My friends are in line for cotton candy."

Tanner takes another drink from Jenna's flask. He reaches out, fingering the edge of Elena's skirt. She can feel his pinky brushing against her bare skin, and she is frozen again.

"Cute skirt," he says. "Not very you, though. I'm always surprised at how much you lean into the whole girl-next-door thing. It doesn't really match that face, but you make it work, somehow. I don't remember the girl who lived next to me as a kid looking anything like you. She had a unibrow."

Elena has no other response for him except: "It's Caroline's."

He nods. "Well, that makes sense. That one's desperate for attention." He points at her with the hand still holding the flask. "Just you wait and see, she'll never wear it again. It looks better on you."

"It's new." Elena can't figure out why she hasn't told him to go fuck himself yet. Maybe it is his fingers on the edge of her skirt, the beer on his breath mixing with the bourbon from her Aunt Jenna's flask. Maybe it is the way his fingers tease against her thigh while still keeping hold of her hem. She cannot tell if he is going to pull her skirt up or use it to tug her to him, but she can only stand there: frozen, heart pounding, waiting for his next action.

"Doesn't matter. She'll tell you it shrunk in the wash, or that you got grass stains on it," he says. "Trust me, Elena, she's got the image of this skirt wrapped around your thighs seared into her memory." He leans down to whisper in her ear. "And so do I."

"Elena, are you all right?"

Elena jerks away from him, moving instinctively towards her brother's voice. "I'm fine," she says but she does not recognize her own voice. It is too high and shaky to belong to her.

Jeremy has Elena's blue and pink duffle bag over his shoulder, but he still manages to glare down Coach Tanner. Though he's only just turned fifteen and only just had his growth spurt, he is surprisingly intimidating in this moment and distantly Elena wonders when her baby brother started to look so grown up. Jeremy reaches out to take her hand and she grips his tightly, so he feels every tremor of terror.

Coach Tanner simply smiles at the siblings. Elena keeps her back to him, facing her brother.

"I was just telling your sister here, Mr. Gilbert, that she's very lucky that I'm the teacher who found her with this flask full of alcohol. I'm letting her off with a warning," he informs him coolly. "Next time, Miss Gilbert," he addresses her. "You won't be so lucky."

With that, he is gone, taking the flask with him.

"Are you okay, Elena?" Jeremy asks.

Elena nods numbly.

"Are you sure? Did he do anything?"

Elena shakes her head automatically. "He didn't do anything, Jer. He just took the flask. I'm fine."

She takes her bag from him. "Thank you for bringing me my stuff, you can go find your friends now."

"It kind of looked like he had his hand-"

Caroline and Bonnie finally arrive with as many bags of cotton candy as they can carry between them, cutting of Jeremy's protest with hyperactive shrieks of joy. Caroline is shoving a few bags into Jeremy's arms for him to take to his friends so she can take Elena's bag from her, ready to take it to her brand new car and Bonnie is linking their arms together and spilling bags of cotton candy into Elena's waiting arms and then they are gone in a tornado of cotton candy and perfect hair before Jeremy can tell her friends how he found Elena and the football coach.

---

When Elena gets home from Bonnie's on Sunday afternoon Jeremy is waiting for her. Grayson is in his study and Miranda is in the kitchen. Elena has plans to dump her stuff on her bed and then head downstairs to check in with their parents, but Jeremy follows her up the stairs and into her bedroom.

"What's up?" she asks him brightly, deliberately feigning ignorance.

"What was up with Coach Tanner?" he asks directly.

Elena sighs. "It's exactly like he said," she says, unzipping her bag to unpack. "He caught me with Jenna's flask full of Sheriff Forbes' bourbon."

"And he didn't rat you out?" Jeremy is like a bloodhound.

"I got lucky," she replies evasively.

"Did you?" he asks.

"You think I did something to get on his good side?" The disgust in her tone is clear.

"No," Jeremy says vehemently. "But he was standing really close to you," he continues uneasily. "And his hand, it kinda looked like he was…" he trails off.

"Like he was what?" she asks bluntly.

"Like he was feeling you up," he explains reluctantly.

"He never touched me," Elena tells him, maintaining eye contact.

She can still feel the way the football coach's pinky finger ghosted against her skin. He had a firm grip on the hem of her skirt, but it doesn't really count.

"Are you sure?" Jeremy questions anxiously. "Because it really looked like…"

"Jer, I'm fine." She cuts him off. "I'm just glad he didn't tell anyone I was drinking. It's not that big of a deal."

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell someone?" He pushes onward.

"Shouldn't tell them what?" Elena is blunt. "That I stole booze from the sheriff and the football coach didn't turn me in for underage drinking?"

Jeremy deflates, realizing she is right.

"Still," he says stubbornly. "If you wanna tell Mom and Dad I'll back you up."

She looks him directly in the face. "Jeremy, there is nothing to tell," she says clearly. "I promise, that was it."

He still looks unsure.

"This isn't like the other times," she tries again. "Really, that was it, I promise."

"If you change your mind," he says.

"Did you finish your homework?" she asks, ignoring him.

"I need help with my Geometry homework," he answers once he sees that she's determined to change the subject.

"Awesome," she says. "I had Mrs. Holt last year, you're probably in proof hell already."

He groans, confirming her suspicions.

"Will you read my paper on The Great Gatsby?" she asks. "I know you already read the book."

"Yeah, sure," he agrees readily.

They agree to meet in the dining room and Jeremy goes to his room to get his backpack, their previous discussion entirely forgotten.

Elena sighs shakily, removing the last item from her duffle bag, Caroline's skirt. She opens her closet door, standing on her tiptoes to shove the skirt on the highest shelf, under a discarded pair of point shoes where she will never reach for it again.

Tanner is right, Caroline will never wear the skirt. Elena has no intention of returning it to her, as far as she's concerned it can rot in her closet. Caroline never asks for it back.

---

In Matt's bed one night, Elena asks him a question. "Do you ever talk about this with anyone?"

"What?" He looks at her, startled.

She looks back, icy. She's not wearing a stitch of clothing and the sweat drying in her hair has twisted it into unruly curls and glows on her skin, making her look like a siren stowed away between his flannel sheets instead of a girl he's known his entire life. Times like this she is more than he can handle.

"God, no," he answers finally, flustered at the thought.

Her face is as still as it ever was which is how he knows she's really serious.

"Elena, no," he insists again, anxious to make her believe him.

"No locker room talk?" she asks, her tone deceptively light.

"Elena, I would never do that to you," he says. He flushes in the low light. "But there are some things I can't hide…you know…you're kind of…a lot," he says, flustered. "I don't mind!" he adds hastily. "But I can't help it if the guys see and say shit."

"And what do you say back?" Elena asks.

"I tell them it's none of their business, because it's not."

Elena nods, finally relaxing against him. "Okay."

Matt holds his breath and takes the plunge. "Maybe if you just…chilled on that, they'd stop asking, ya know?"

"You don't like it?" Elena seems okay with this idea if a little put out.

"No, I mean, I do, it's just a little embarrassing, that's all," Matt explains, fumbling and blushing. "You're just a lot, that's all."

He winces at the way that sounds. "I mean, I love you, you know I love you, right?"

Elena nods automatically, smiles. "I love you, too." She pauses. "I can chill."

When she leaves Vicki Donovan glares at her with glazed eyes from the kitchen table. Elena ignores her. Vicki Donovan has never liked her, not since Marcus Fell asked her to be his Valentine in Kindergarten, instead of Vicki, who was in the first grade, like him.

---

Mystic Falls: February 8, 2014

"I'll smile, I know what it takes to fool this town / I'll do it 'til the sun goes down and all through the nighttime…" -Sia, "Unstoppable"

It's Saturday night and the girls have a packed schedule. First a quick party at Tyler Lockwood's house while his parents are in Asheville for the weekend, then an appearance at Elena's favorite dive bar where they are guaranteed to skip the line and drink for free.

Tagging along is pretty Lucy Kenneth, head cheerleader and innocent as the church girl she is. Coach Fallon seems to think Frannie Fine has daffodils growing out of her ass, so Caroline figures her best bet at cheer captain next year is to butter up Lucy, the reigning captain. So, she makes it her personal mission to make Lucy the fourth in their little group.

Bonnie and Elena don't really mind, Lucy is a sweet girl. She sings in their church choir and volunteers in the Sunday school room. Her mom is a homemaker who still makes her cookies to eat after school every day, her dad owns the local grocery store. She skipped two grades and gets straight As. She's the President of the Student Council and has never been to a kegger or flirted her way into a dive bar.

Really, she wouldn't be popular at all if she wasn't both a cheerleader and incredibly beautiful.

She has thick, golden-brown hair past her shoulder blades and bright hazel eyes framed in dark, thick lashes. She cannot handle her booze, but she can hit every single beat in a routine effortlessly and her thick body makes her the perfect anchor in a pyramid. Her body is a work of art, only shown off in her cheer uniform. She wears flats and sweet, demure sundresses, cardigan over her shoulders, and a little gold cross at her throat. Her skin is always golden and glowing and when she smiles, she looks like a mischievous two-year-old or a cherub.

Really, Caroline is the one who hates her. It's bad enough Elena looks like a goddess and Bonnie is a tiny, dainty sprite. Lucy, who is just barely shorter than Elena, with her voluptuous body and sweet disposition makes Caroline feel like a giant – a mean, bumbling giant. Lucy is the prettiest girl in school – besides Elena, of course. Caroline used to be the one to remind everyone of this fact. As pretty as Lucy Kenneth is, her teeth are crooked, and her nose turns up just a bit too much, like a Who from Whoville and her thighs look like cottage cheese – all perfectly normal flaws that make Lucy utterly human in her prettiness. Elena is flawless, Lucy Kenneth and her Whoville nose simply can't compare.

But Lucy is cheer captain, and Caroline wants to be her successor. So, she ignores every insecure, bratty thought and treats Lucy like Elena. Like she is forgiven for being (almost) perfect simply because she is Lucy, the way she forgives Elena for overshadowing her because she is Elena, and Caroline has loved her since they were six years old.

In Tyler's backyard, Elena is leaning back against Matt, hair pulled away from him, beer in hand while they take their turns at Truth or Dare.

Tyler is re-dressing to cat calls after a quick streaking down his street and back.

"Truth or Dare, Caroline?" he calls as he pulls his shirt over his head.

"Dare," Caroline says immediately.

It's a much-discussed rule between Bonnie, Caroline, and Elena to always pick Dare – Truth only leads to trouble. Like when Elena had to admit that Caroline is a better kisser than Matt.

"I dare you to do a body shot off of Elena," he says, leering.

Caroline scoffs. "Easy."

Elena slides out of Matt's embrace, handing Bonnie her bottle to hold.

Caroline licks a slimy trail of saliva across the fine bone of Elena's collarbone, and Elena fights the urge to jump or giggle at the sensation.

Caroline salts the spot, sticking out her tongue, licking her lips exaggeratedly. "Yum!"

Elena snorts out a laugh at her theatrics.

Matt holds out a lime to her, snickering along with her. Elena blows Caroline a kiss before taking the lime between her teeth, wiggling it at her teasingly.

Tyler hands Caroline the shot of tequila. "Bottoms up, Forbes!"

Caroline raises the shot high, toasting the party before she hooks an arm around Elena's waist, leaning forward to lick the salt from her collarbone, then tipping back the salt. When she takes the lime from Elena's mouth with her own she lingers for just a moment before pulling back, sucking hard on the lime. The other partygoers cheer wildly for her, and she gives them a gracious grin as she pulls the lime rind from her mouth with a pop.

Her arm still around Elena's waist, Caroline turns to address Lucy.

"Truth or Dare, Lucy?" Caroline asks.

"Um, Truth?" Lucy replies timidly.

Everyone laughs, Lucy is as predictable as she is pretty.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" Caroline asks daringly, leaning into Elena unconsciously.

Lucy blushes bright red, shaking her head vehemently. "Of course not!"

Once again everyone laughs at her, finding her innocence absolutely adorable.

"Truth or Dare, Bonnie?" Lucy finally asks.

Elena and Caroline have moved out of the middle of the circle, but they are still wrapped around each other, comfortably ignoring the ways everyone's eyes dart over to their easy affection.

"Dare," Bonnie says. "Dare always comes with less commentary than Truth," she adds in an undertone to Lucy.

"Oh um, okay." Lucy pauses to think. "Prank call the mayor," she says finally, catching Tyler's attention.

"What should I say?" Bonnie asks, caught off guard.

Lucy shrugs. "That you're pregnant and the baby's his," she suggests in a rush.

Everyone gasps and Tyler's face begins to turn red.

"Do I have to be Bonnie Bennett?" she asks.

"No, you should be some random cater-waiter that worked the Masquerade Ball last month," she answers.

"Lucy, that's so fucked up!" Caroline exclaims.

Lucy flushes. "Sorry."

"No, I'm like deeply obsessed with you," Caroline insists.

Elena grins and nods in agreement.

"Tyler?" Lucy asks timidly.

He gives her a slow grin and shakes his head. "If he dies from the shock, do you think my mom will remarry someone cooler?"

Everyone laughs.

It's hard for everyone to keep quiet as Bonnie makes the call. She's very convincing as a desperate cater-waiter, but eventually Richard Lockwood catches on and hangs up after cursing her out.

"Truth or Dare, Lucy?" Bonnie asks, grinning at her.

"Is that allowed?" Lucy blurts out, caught by surprise. "I asked her and now she can ask me?"

Everyone nods as one.

Lucy's sighs. "Dare, I guess."

Bonnie's grin widens. "I dare you, Lucy Kenneth," she pauses dramatically. "To kiss Elena Gilbert."

Lucy flushes red from the tips of her ears to the collar of her sensible cardigan.

Elena smiles at her. "I would be honored to be your first girl kiss, Miss Lucy Kenneth," she says, utterly charming and glowing.

Lucy automatically looks to Elena's boyfriend, but Matt is encouraging Elena along just like everyone else.

"Okay," Lucy squeaks.

Pouting, Caroline lets go of Elena so she can cross the circle to pull Lucy up into her arms. Elena smooths Lucy's hair out of her face.

"Don't worry about it," Elena says quietly. "Everyone likes a show," she explains. "It doesn't have to be real if you don't want it to be – it doesn't count if you don't want it."

Lucy blushes. "I've been kissed before – at bible camp."

Elena nods in understanding.

"You've kissed girls before?" Lucy asks, hesitant.

"What happens at cheer camp stays at cheer camp," Elena replies evasively.

"Where was I?" Lucy blurts out.

"Asleep," Elena answers honestly.

Lucy winds her arms around Elena's neck.

"A show, you said?"

Elena nods. Lucy barely has to go up onto her toes to reach Elena's mouth. Really it's as simple as shifting her weight forward.

Elena's mouth is still sour from the lime, with the oddly appealing malty taste of beer and a hint of unbearable sweetness that seems to be all Elena.

Matt and Tyler let out a few wolf whistles and Bonnie bangs her beer bottle with Elena's to make a thundering clink of approval.

When Lucy pulls back, Elena grins at her.

"Not bad, Kenneth."

"Are we still going to the bar later?" Lucy blurts out, unable to think of anything else to say.

Elena laughs. "Yeah, as soon as we put the boys to bed."

---

"We're not going to get in," Lucy says peevishly.

"We'll get in!" Bonnie and Caroline say together, irritated.

"We always get in, Luce," Elena tells her, grabbing her hand reassuringly.

Lucy latches onto Bonnie who grabs Caroline's hand. Like a daisy chain, Elena leads them into across the gravel parking lot of Moonies Bar.

"Hey gorgeous!" The bouncer shouts, catching sight of Elena over the line of tipsy co-eds.

"Hey Paulie!" Elena calls back, grinning at him, giddy as they glide past the line.

Still holding Lucy's hand, Elena goes up on her tiptoes, grasping Paulie's shoulder with her hand to steady herself. Even on her tiptoes he needs to lean down a little so she can kiss his cheek. He inhales deeply, taking in the vanilla scent of her skin.

"Go right on in," he says congenially. "I think Mark's got something new for you to try."

"Can't wait!" Elena says.

With that the girls slid through the door, Lucy with a death grip on Elena and Bonnie's hands.

'Get Lucky' starts playing and Caroline shrieks, dragging the group towards the dance floor.

"I have to go see Mark!" Elena reminds them.

"I want to dance!" Bonnie begs.

Caroline nods in agreement.

"Okay, I'll go alone," Elena says agreeably.

"No way," Lucy protests. "I'm going with you." She glances around the room nervously. "You shouldn't be alone!"

Elena rolls her eyes. She's never had any problems at Moonies. "Sure, sure," she agrees to appease her.

Still holding hands, Elena leads Lucy through the crowds towards the bar.

Behind the bar is an incredibly handsome Black man, easily shaking a drink with one hand while he pours a beer from the tap with the other.

"Mark!" Elena calls over the din.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't my favorite P.Y.T.!" he calls back to her. Catching sight of Lucy, he smiles reassuringly at her. "And a new friend!"

"This is Lucy," Elena tells him.

"Hello sweet girl," he says, beaming at her.

Lucy looks at him with wide eyes. "Pleased to meet you," she answers falteringly. She can't quite bring herself to talk loud enough to be heard over the music, but Mark smiles and returns the pleasantry easily.

Elena boosts herself up onto the edge of the bar easily, leaning over to kiss his Mark's pro-offered cheek.

"What're ya'll drinkin' tonight?" he asks.

"Tequila shots for the girls," Elena answers. "And Paulie said you have something new for me?" she asks.

He nods enthusiastically. "I've been working on a bourbon cocktail infused with rose, and I need my prodigious little test bunny to let me know if I'm onto something!" he tells her, gushing.

"Sounds crazy enough to work, mix it up!"

"Elena, we can't drink here!" Lucy hisses in her ear.

"Why do you think we ate all those carbs?" Elena retorts.

"Fine, I can't drink!" she says. "Order me something else."

"Relax," Elena tells her. "I can take the shot for you when he's not looking, but I can't un-order it now!"

"You can't mix tequila and bourbon!" Lucy replies, eyes wide. "And you had beer at Tyler's! You did a keg stand."

Even Lucy had been impressed when Elena did a perfect handstand without any assistance.

"No, you can't mix tequila and bourbon," Elena retorts, amused. "And beer's barely got any alcohol anyway."

Lucy looks doubtful but doesn't argue with Elena over her alcohol tolerance. They've gone to the same cheer camp since middle school, Lucy knows Elena's been drinking with the older girls since before she started high school.

Mark places a cocktail in front of Elena and a line of shots in front of Lucy. Elena waves to Caroline and Bonnie on the dance floor and they come quickly at the promise of alcohol.

While Mark is helping someone else Elena downs Lucy's shot and fills her shot

glass with water. Caroline and Bonnie show her how to take her shot like a pro – salt, tequila, and lime – and Lucy manages to reasonably fake it while Elena sips her cocktail like a lady.

"What do you think Miss Thing?" Mark asks when he finally has a moment.

"Aromatic and far too sophisticated for a roadside bar," Elena pronounces it.

"Perfect, I'm taking it with me to Nashville," he answers, grinning.

"Only if you're taking me too," Elena replies with a playful grin.

"Oh, unquestionably, you're my ticket to fame," he says seriously. "One look at you, P.Y.T. and I'll be at the Bluebird selling my potions while you play the house down with your piano and your wild girl poetry."

"What's a P.Y.T.?" Lucy asks, interrupting their grand plans.

The others burst into laughter.

"P.Y.T. stands for Pretty Young Thing," Bonnie explains, smiling at her.

"Oh," Lucy says faintly. "I didn't know you wrote poetry, Elena," she continues after a moment.

"Sometimes," Elena answers evasively. "Can I have a bourbon and coke?" she asks Marcus before Lucy can ask any more questions.

"Of course, my love," is his answer.

"He's so nice to you," Lucy marvels in an undertone. "He's not creepy or anything."

"Not every guy is a creep," Elena answers.

"But…" Lucy trails off, then moves even closer, so she's whispering in her ear. "You're underage," she practically breathes.

Elena pets Lucy's hair away from her face. "He doesn't know that."

"So, he's just nice because he likes you?" she asks, confused.

"He's nice because we're friendly," Elena replies.

"He doesn't want anything from you?" Lucy is still wary.

"Besides a nice tip and a few compliments? No," is Elena's answer. "I'm not his type."

"You're everyone's type," Lucy argues earnestly. She's spent her life on the sideline, watching boys orbit Elena Gilbert like she is the sun while she pays them no mind, saving all her breathtaking smiles for Matt Donovan. If Lucy is perfectly honest, she's not sure if Matt Donovan is worthy of perfect, wild Elena Gilbert, but she'd never say that out loud. Matt Donovan is a very nice boy, the kind of boy her mama is always telling her to pay attention to.

"Not his," Elena says, bemused.

Just as understanding dawns on Lucy's face, Elena catches a glimpse of someone behind her. Immediately she glances away, still playing with Lucy's hair.

"What?" Caroline asks.

"One of my dad's med students is at that table," she explains.

"Oooh, which one?" Caroline asks, looking over. "College guys are so hot."

"Caroline, chill," Elena says sharply.

"Too late," she giggles. "They're all staring at us."

Mark slides her drink across the bar to her then hurries off to help a gaggle of wine moms.

Elena tosses her hair over her shoulder then smiles at the group of med students gawking at her. She raises a glass to them, and they follow suit.

"Please don't come over here," she grits out between her grinning mouth.

"Do you think they're gonna tell your dad or something?" Bonnie asks.

Elena nods her head towards them. "Guy on the end comes over for Sunday dinner at least once a month," she explains. "I don't think he'll tell," she says. "I just think it will cost me."

"Cost you what?" Lucy asks, anxious.

Elena smiles at her. "Don't worry about, Lucy Lu," she says sweetly. "I can take care of myself."

"I want to dance," Caroline interrupts. "Elena, dance with me," she demands.

"Lucy and I will guard your drink," Bonnie offers.

Elena grabs Caroline's hand and drags her towards the dance floor, well aware that the med students are still watching her.

"He's kinda cute," Caroline tells her. "The one that comes for Sunday dinner." She watches Elena's face for her reaction.

She shrugs. "Matt's cuter," she says staunchly.

"You would think so," Caroline says bitterly.

"Don't be sad, Care," Elena replies. "We'll find you a cute, age-appropriate boy."

Caroline nods halfheartedly. "Right, a boy." She winds her arms around Elena's neck, swaying just off-beat, wishing Elena would touch her hair like she was touching Lucy's.

---

Mystic Falls, February 16, 2014

"And the terror and the horror / God, I wonder why we bother / All the glamour and the trauma / And the fuckin' melodrama..." -Lorde, "Sober II (Melodrama)"

When Beau Ford comes to Sunday dinner at the Gilberts he wears his best shirt, smiles politely, and says please and thank on command. One of Whitmore College's most promising med students, he is the very picture of a southern gentleman.

He asks Mrs. Gilbert about her latest charity endeavors. He talks baseball statistics with Jeremy. He listens with rapt attention as Dr. Gilbert talks about the bands he listened to during his own med school all-nighters.

Elena never ceases to feel like she is holding her breath from the moment he enters her home. It's true, Beau is very handsome and charming and a full decade older than her. His polite attentions should not make her feel like her skin is stretched too tight over her bones, like there is something inside of her that is trying to escape, trying to flee into the night and away from him.

Tonight, after dinner, Jeremy is in his room, her mother is downstairs on the phone with a friend, and Beau is in the attic music room that feels so much like a safe haven to Elena, listening to The Stones with her father.

Elena is in her room, a book in her lap, tensed for even the slightest creak on the stairs. Eventually the sound she is dreading reaches her ears: a single pair of footsteps on the attic stairs. Inevitably, before he heads down the stairs to the guest bathroom on the first floor, Beau will head down the hallway to Elena's room.

Her door, perpetually cracked out of habit, slowly swings open, and there he is, standing in her doorway, smiling that well-practiced grin.

"What are we reading tonight, lovely Elena?" he asks in his easy drawl.

"Daisy Miller," she answers with a tight grin.

He leans against her doorway. "I've never heard of it, what's it about?" he asks.

"A girl who dies because she's too nice to boys," Elena replies shortly.

He snorts, amused by her blunt description. "Certainly not anything you could relate to, now is it, darlin'?"

"I have a boyfriend," she reminds him. "He's the only boy I should be nice to."

He laughs. "You sure are feisty." He sounds delighted as he makes this observation.

"On occasion," she agrees coolly.

"What are you reading such a depressin' book for?" he asks.

"School," she lies.

"Such a good girl."

"Yes I am," she lies again.

"I don't think you are, Elena Gilbert," he says.

"Excuse me," she replies, heart pounding.

"I've seen you out at bars with your girlfriends on the weekends," he reveals. "I know you're not a good girl, and all of this," he gestures to her in her demure sundress and the teddy bear tucked into her elbow. "Is just an act."

"I'm not acting."

He sneers. "Girls like you are always runnin' game." He eyes her critically. "You use what you've got."

She goes still. "Do I?" she asks softly. "Because I think dating the same boy since I was thirteen says it all."

"I think flirting with bartenders and bouncers says the rest."

"Am I flirting?" she asks, seriously. "Or do they just want me to be?"

"Oooh, so you've got good double talk, shoulda known."

She shrugs, knees pressed together tightly. "Whether I am or not, I think I've made one thing clear: I am never flirting with you."

And then he does something he's never done before, he steps over the threshold of her room, walking confidently into her room.

He watches the way her eyes widen and how carefully she exhales, and he smiles.

"I know better to believe a word out of that pretty mouth, Miss Gilbert," he enunciates her name carefully.

"What are you doing?" Jeremy asks from her bathroom door.

Unbeknownst to both Beau and Elena, Jeremy heard them speaking while in the bathroom. Elena feels a wave of violent relief.

"Nothin'," Beau says with an easy grin. "Just sayin' hi," he says, then he saunters out of the room.

"Elena?" Jeremy asks. "Is that all that happened?"

Elena thinks about the moment Beau stepped over the line, literally and metaphorically, how little there is to say about it, because he didn't say much at all. He just walked into her room, that's all.

"I guess," she says weakly.

Jeremy looks at her face. "Are you sure?"

She nods, numb.

---

Mystic Falls: February 19, 2014

"Adolescence didn't make sense / A little loss of innocence / The ugly years of being a fool / Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?" -Marina, "Teen Idle"

"Beau Ford won't be coming by for dinner anytime soon," Grayson tells his eldest child.

Elena looks up at him, startled. They are up in the attic, Elena is annotating her sheet music for her next piano lesson with the ancient Mrs. Fell, while Grayson listens to the B-side of Rubber Soul by the Beatles.

"Really?" Elena asks, trying to hide how her voice trembles with relief.

In the background, John sings imploringly, asking someone to listen to his story about a girl.

"Don't think I didn't notice how he long he always took going to the guest bathroom, Sweetheart."

"She's the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry…"

"I didn't ask him to," she blurts out.

He nods. "I know, Sweetheart." He sighs. "I know this isn't your fault, you can't help it."

Elena looks down at her sheet music. "I didn't do anything," she says quietly.

"I'm sure you didn't mean to," Grayson says placatingly. "You just need to be more careful."

She clenches her fist around her pen.

"What more could I have done?" she asks dully.

"I just wonder if you were too nice to him," Grayson answers carefully.

Elena thinks about Daisy Miller.

"I barely looked at him," she argues hollowly, unsure why she feels so defensive.

"Sweetheart, I'm not angry, I'm not saying you did anything wrong," Grayson assures her. "You need to be more careful – more than careful. This isn't the first time, Elena–"

Elena cuts him off. "And it won't be the last, either, Daddy," she points. Tears pool in her eyes. "It doesn't matter what I do," her voice is ragged. "They take it all as invitation or a challenge or a game and I'm just…" her throat feels too swollen to speak. "I'm so tired."

Grayson sighs.

"This is an enormous burden on you, I know, Elena," he begins. "But it's a fact of life. You are a very beautiful girl, and not everyone is going to be careful with you. So, you need to be careful with how you interact with the world."

George has finished singing his bouncy love song just as Elena rises abruptly, sheet music clutched in her fist.

"You're right, of course, Daddy," Elena says tightly. "I'm going to bed, good night."

She kisses his cheek quickly and descends the stairs quickly, tears spilling down her own cheeks. Despite her quick withdrawal, John's voice still chases her down the stairs into her bedroom.

"Well, I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man…"

---

Mystic Falls: March 7, 2014

"Always said I was a good kid / Always said I had a way with words / Never knew I could be speechless..." -Daughter, "Burn It Down"

"So," Caroline starts at the end of particularly grueling practice. "I'm thinking movie and then dinner at the Grille, after?" she suggests to Bonnie and Elena.

"I am so there," Bonnie agrees readily.

"Definitely," Elena says.

Caroline beams. "Great! I wanna invite Lucy too, where'd she go?"

Elena looks around, surprised to find their captain missing. Frannie is helping Coach Fallon put away the pom-poms and a few other girls are lingering, chatting about their own plans, but Lucy is nowhere to be found.

"I don't see her," Elena says.

"Me neither," Bonnie adds.

"Can you guys go look for her?" Caroline asks. "I'd do it myself, but I should probably go help coach and Miss Kiss Ass with the pom-poms."

Bonnie and Elena agree, splitting up to check the locker rooms and gym teacher offices. It just so happens that Elena is the one who finds her. She is with Coach Tanner, in his office.

It's the sound of a whimper that makes Elena stop in front of his partially opened door. It's such a small thing, tiny and pathetic sounding – making Elena think that Lucy is afraid or in pain. Which is why she does not hesitate to swing the door open, never imagining what she would find behind the door.

Lucy meets her eyes, and Elena inhales sharply. She turns and runs from the room before Coach Tanner turns to look her in the eye, but she knows, just like Charlie all those years ago, he saw her.

He recognizes her high, perfect ponytail of dark, shiny, straight hair, longer than any other girl's in her grade. She recognizes a girl backed into a corner when she sees one.

---

"My girl, my girl, don't lie to me / Tell me, where did you sleep last night?" -Sleigh Bells, "Where Did You Sleep Last Night"

Elena goes straight to the showers and lies to Caroline's face when she asks if she found Lucy. Lucy comes in just as they are leaving and eagerly agrees to go to the movies with them, desperately trying to meet Elena's eyes.

Every time Elena closes her eyes she sees his hands, one toying with one of Lucy's perfect honey brown curls, and the other shoved up under her cheer skirt.

Later, in the middle of the movie, Lucy reaches out and takes hold of one of Elena's clenched fists. She leans over to whisper in her ear. "Can I spend the night at yours, tonight? Just the two of us?"

Elena clenches her jaw, but she nods, and Lucy is close enough and looking hard enough that she can see her. Lucy relaxes finally and lets go of Elena's fist.

Caroline, sitting on Elena's other side – saw the fist-holding and Elena's clenched jaw, but did not hear Lucy's question – reaches for Elena's other hand. She is immediately gratified when Elena unfurls her fist to lace their fingers together. She is inwardly smug, knowing that Elena is upset with perfect Lucy but not her. The thrill of winning causes her to reach out for Bonnie's hand on her other side. Bonnie, confused, but always ready for a moment of sisterhood, willingly allows her hand to be taken, smearing Caroline's in butter and salt unrepentantly.

Elena avoids being alone with Lucy in the restroom after the movie and at dinner at the Grille, but she cannot avoid her when it is time for them all to go home.

Caroline gives her a confused look when Lucy laces their arms together and announces they're having a sleepover. Elena shrugs one shoulder.

"I'll tell you later," she mouths at her, knowing she will have to lie to her.

Caroline nods, satisfied.

---

"Will you still think I'm pretty, when I come back to bite? /When I'm screaming like a siren in the middle of the night? / When I unleash the storm just 'cause I'm bored? / If you're not scared of me, then what's this prison for?" -Nessa Barrett, "hell is a teenage girl"

In her room later that night, Lucy and Elena get ready for bed. Elena washing her face and offering Lucy the good moisturizer her mom buys her at the high-end boutique in Richmond. Lucy using one of the extra toothbrushes Elena's mom keeps stocked in a drawer for occasions like this.

"He's a teacher," Elena says finally, breaking their silence at last.

"Don't talk down to me," Lucy retorts, surprisingly Elena with her fierceness.

"I wasn't trying-" Elena starts to protest but Lucy cuts her off.

"Yes, you were," Lucy says with more venom than Elena thought she was capable of. "You all think I'm naïve little Lucy with her swirly-curly good girl curls and her bible-thumping parents. You think because I don't like drinking whiskey or flirting with bartenders that I'm boring and stuffy and you only hang out with me because you and Caroline are aiming to be cheer captain next year, I'm not stupid." She takes a breath. "And now that you know you think I'm being a stupid little hopeless romantic fool that the big bad football coach is taking advantage which is ridiculous because you don't know anything about us. For all you know I'm the one who pursued him, not the other around." Lucy stares hard at her in the mirror, toothpaste oozing down her chin. "You don't know anything, Elena Gilbert." She wipes the spit from her chin in one hard swipe.

Elena is quiet, but not nearly as shocked as Lucy wants her to be.

"Did you?" Elena asks calmly.

Lucy doesn't answer.

"See, I don't think you did," Elena continues, keeping an even tone. "Because last fall he cornered me behind the cotton candy booth at the school carnival and played with the hem of my skirt. So, I already knew he has no problem coming onto students."

Lucy stares at her. "You're lying."

"Why would I lie to you?" Elena asks.

"You want to make me jealous," Lucy says quickly, her words stumbling over each other. "You can't stand the thought that someone would want me instead of you – would want anyone instead of you."

"You really think I enjoy it?" Elena's voice is so quiet Lucy can barely hear her. "You think I like it when the mailman drops a few letters, so he has an excuse to get on his knees next to me?" Elena asks bitterly. "Or what about when my biology teacher insisted I showed promise and would just need a little extra private tutoring with him. Or the med students who ask my dad to be their mentors because they're hoping for an invite to dinner, so they can stand in my doorway and ask about my extracurriculars. Or maybe you think I liked it when your creepy grown-up boyfriend told me that he thinks about what I'm like in bed with my boyfriend?" Elena's mouth widens like she's smiling but it's such a horrible look that Lucy has to look away. "What about when I was 13 and I got to hear the cook at cheer camp tell a camp counselor about how badly he wanted to fuck me?"

"Elena-" Lucy tries to speak but Elena isn't done.

"Shut the fuck up, Lucy," Elena orders and Lucy shuts her mouth immediately. "You want to talk about the restraining order my parents almost got against my piano teacher the year before last? How it's not even the second or third or fourth time someone's stalked me?" Elena is breathing hard now. "You really think anyone would enjoy this?"

"I'm sorry," Lucy says feebly. "I never realized, that is, I never thought-"

"No, you didn't think," Elena says flatly. "No one ever thinks it through, what it's really like to be me." Elena grabs her hairbrush and yanks it through her hair. "Now that you have the tiniest clue, I hope you know that if your creepy fucker of a boyfriend ever touches me again I will scream so loud your lord and savior Jesus Christ is gonna hear it in heaven. And then everyone will know that William Tanner likes to fuck teenage girls."

Elena gives Lucy one last scathing look. "You're not stupid, Lucy, which is why we both know that whatever is happening between you and Coach Tanner will end badly."

She slams her brush down the counter. "You can sleep in my bed; I'm going to stay in Jer's room tonight." And with that Elena marches over to the door to her brother's room and taps on it until he invites her in, leaving Lucy alone with her thoughts.

---

Mystic Falls: March 8, 2014

"He lives in our town, he lives on our street / In your home, in your bed..." -Kate Miller-Heidke, "The Devil Wears a Suit"

In the morning, while they get dressed on opposite ends of Elena's bedroom, Lucy quietly says to Elena "You can't tell anyone."

Elena stares at her.

"What do you want from me?" Lucy asks. "Do you want to be cheer captain? Like I said, I know that's why you and Caroline are hanging out with me. I'll put in a good word with Coach Fallon but please, just don't say anything," she begs. "I'm sorry for what I said about you being jealous. I didn't, I didn-" she stumbles over the words. "I didn't know about all those guys who like stalked you and stuff."

"No one knows," Elena says dully. "Not even Caroline and Bonnie. I don't want anyone to know."

Lucy nods feverishly. "Me too, I don't want anyone to know. We're the same."

Elena shakes her head. "My parents know, Lucy," she reminds her. "At least about the really serious ones. What Coach Tanner is doing to you is really serious. Could you at least tell your parents?"

"No," Lucy says immediately. "No, you don't know what they'll say to me." She trembles. "They can never know," she insists. "They would blame me," she whispers finally.

Elena flinches. "Are you sure?"

"You don't hear what they say after church, around the dinner table," Lucy says bitterly. "You don't hear what they say about you and your friends and none of you are fucking your teacher."

"It's not your fault," Elena says insistently.

"They won't see it that way." Lucy is just as insistent.

"Maybe if we told my parents first?" Elena suggests. "My dad could talk to them…"

Lucy shakes her head, cutting Elena off.

"It won't work, and besides…I can't handle what anyone will say about me if they know, least of all my parents. I can't have everyone calling me a…" Lucy trails off, unable to finish.

"Victim?" Elena suggests.

"Slut," Lucy corrects grimly.

Elena is silent for a long time. Finally, she says. "I don't want to be cheer captain," she says definitively. Caroline is on her own. She adds, "I won't tell anyone, but you have to end it."

Lucy looks at her in agony. "I can't," she insists.

"Because you love him?" Elena questions in disbelief.

Lucy lower lip quivers.

"Because you're afraid of him," Elena realizes even as she says it. In her head she sees Lucy, backed into the corner with the football coach's hand up her skirt. At the time she saw her thirteen-year-old self in her, and now she knows she wasn't imagining it; Lucy is just as cornered and as scared as Elena was.

Lucy whimpers and nods.

Elena puts her arms around her.

"Okay," she says with finality. "Okay, I'll take care of it."

"How?" Lucy asks, voice quivering. "What could you possibly do?"

Elena works her jaw for a moment before answering. "More than you could possibly imagine."

---

After breakfast, without speaking, they do their hair side-by-side in the bathroom. Her straightener still warming up, Elena sprays down her wavy bedhead first with water then with a heat protection spray while Lucy unwinds her curlers.

Elena separates out a section of her hair, clamping down at the roots, feeling the heat spread across her scalp as the hot irons hiss at the contact with her damp hair. One smooth controlled pull down the length of her hair raises steam and leaves the smooth fall of her dark hair in its wake.

At the same time, Lucy gently runs her fingers through her hair, expertly separating her curls without causing any frizzing. She applies an anti-frizz spray, then a layer of hairspray like armor.

In the mirror there are two brunettes. One curvy and pretty with good girl curls, and one lean and radiant with a sleek fall of dark hair. Each of them is armored to the hilt, in her own way. Only one of them is expecting to do battle.

---

Mystic Falls: March 10, 2014

"God made me pretty, you made me mean..." -Ashnniko, "Cheerleader"

Before Elena can figure out who to tell, Tanner corners her.

"I don't know what you think you saw, Miss Gilbert-"

Elena cuts him off. "I know what I saw." She stares at him hard. "I haven't forgotten about the carnival, either."

"You were drunk," he counters quickly. "I still have your flask."

"Prove it," Elena spits out, glaring contemptuously at him. "Better yet." She smiles. "Explain why you didn't report me in the first place."

"I was trying to avoid a scandal, your family is pretty important," he says, too quickly.

She cocks her head to the side. "I'm pretty sure you were just trying to avoid explaining why you smelled more like booze than I did." She raises her chin. "Or how much you liked my skirt," she adds archly.

"Listen here, you stupid little slut-" He is winding up for a profanity-laced rant, ready to tell her exactly how easily he could ruin her, but Elena laughs in his face.

"I've had the same boyfriend since I was 13," she reminds him, taking the wind from his sails.

They are at a standstill. Tanner is a teacher and the football coach, both reasonably respectable positions on their own made all the more impressive when paired together in the form of one man. But while Elena might be known for being a bit wild, at the end of the day she is the beloved daughter of the town doctor and a descendant of a founding family. She is not a good little girl who can be crushed under the heels of gossip and her own pious parents, like Lucy. As young as she is, Elena is not without power.

Tanner could call her a liar or a slut, could try to cast blame on that face that does not seem to belong to a mere mortal let alone a teenage girl, but Elena has the kind of parents' who would stand by her side if she pointed a finger – not to mention a brother who could be called to a witness stand. Elena is protected in a way someone like Lucy is not.

"What do you want?" Tanner finally asks begrudgingly.

"Leave Lucy alone," Elena says at once. "She's afraid of you."

"Why would she be afraid of me, we're in love, remember?" Tanner sounds taunting. "Are you sure it's really me she's afraid of?" he smirks. "Maybe she's just scared of the girl that got Ali Beckett to quit the cheer squad."

"Why would she be afraid of me?" Elena asks, momentarily sidetracked, like he intended.

"Well, you don't like anyone stealing your thunder, party girl." Tanner's eyes roam Elena's figure, making her skin crawl.

Elena sneers. "I'm getting a little sick of you," she says, not falling for his bait. "And I am sure. I know what kind of person you are. You showed me behind the cotton candy booth, remember?"

Tanner narrows his eyes. "Leave Lucy alone," he echoes, ignoring everything she just said. "That's it?"

"Stop fucking underage girls," she adds, since he asked.

He flinches. "She's a senior."

"She skipped two grades," Elena counters. "She's a month older than me."

His eyes flicker over her form, settling on her face contemptuously.

Elena sneers, holding back a flinch.

"I leave her, and you won't tell anyone?" he asks, wanting the picture to be crystal clear.

"Yes," Elena says. She doesn't know if she's lying this time, but she does know that this man does not love Lucy, nor does he even think that he loves her. The most important thing she can do is pry her friend out from under his thumb.

"What will you do if I don't?" he asks. "Are you really gonna throw Lucy to the wolves?" He smirks. "That church rat won't survive a day of this town's scrutiny."

Elena nods. "Oh, I know. I won't have to say a word about her. I'll just tell everyone you stuck your hand up my skirt at the carnival while my 15-year-old brother was watching."

Tanner regards her warily. "I barely touched you," he counters softly. He sounds unsure.

Elena smiles faintly. "We both know what kind of girl I am," she says assuredly. "See I'm not Lucy. I'm not the terminal good girl. I know the difference between what I asked for and what I didn't."

And that's the God's honest truth. Elena learned quickly that men would look at her no matter what she did so she might as well get something out of it. Tanner has nothing she wants – she'd never dream of pulling the shit she pulls on bartenders and bouncers on a teacher. There was naughty fun and then there was that.

When it comes to being looked at, Elena could choose to be an object, or she could choose to have some semblance of control in an unavoidable situation. She could ignore them or encourage them; she had no power to stop them. Elena does what she can live with.

"So, when I tell them I did not want you to touch me, when I tell them how fucking violated I felt when you talked with such authority about my sex life with my long-term, equally underage boyfriend, people will know that there was no mistake. I did not misread the situation. I was not a naïve little girl who didn't know any better. I know exactly who I am," she says, then, with a faint smirk, adds, "And I know who you are, too."

He glares down at her.

"Leave Lucy alone," Elena says again. "I can ruin you all on my own. And I can survive the aftermath, too."

A flash of irritation on his face tells her that he thought he had her there.

"People have made up worse shit about me than what you actually did to me. I have no problem telling everyone."

"Lucy is going to be heartbroken," Tanner says between clenched teeth.

"You don't give a shit about Lucy; you're just mad you lost to a stupid little slut."

He glares. "That's not what I meant. How do you know she won't tell?"

Elena rolls her eyes. Truthfully, she couldn't care less if Lucy did decide to ruin him, but she knows she won't.

"Lucy knows who she is, too. She knows she could never survive that."

Begrudgingly, he nods once. "All right, it's over."

"I'll believe it when she tells me," Elena responds coolly, turning on her heel to stalk down the hall, heart pounding in her chest.

---

Mystic Falls: March 11, 2014

"With every stab wound and exhale, I promised myself / That I would never lose my youthful fears of grown up men..." -Ex:Re, "Romance"

Tanner acts quickly. By the next evening Elena and Lucy are sitting on Elena's bed, side by side. Lucy's eyes are a little red and she is a little quiet, but mostly she is grateful for her relatively clean getaway.

"It feels like he took everything from me," Lucy admits abruptly.

"Take it back," Elena offers.

"That's not how it works."

Elena shrugs. "Who says? Who says you can't decide it was yours all along, that he never had it at all."

"What? My virginity," Lucy spits morosely.

"Your heart, your mind, your body," Elena counters. "Those are still yours."

"Barely," Lucy disagrees. "He took all of it."

Elena sees that they are having two different conversations, so she pivots.

"You still have your future."

This at last, gives Lucy pause.

"My future?" she says softly.

Elena nods encouragingly. "You applied to colleges, already, right?"

Lucy nods. "Whitmore, UVA, Hollins," she pauses. "And Yale."

"Yale?" Elena asks.

"I was always a sucker for Gilmore Girls," Lucy confesses. "I only applied on a whim."

Elena smiles. "I could see you at Yale."

"Really?" Lucy asks in a small voice.

Elena nods.

"Okay," Lucy says, like her whole future is being decided here and now, on Elena Gilbert's bed on a random Tuesday evening.

"See," Elena says gently. "He didn't take everything."

Lucy tears up but she nods with unexpected fierceness.

"Thank you, Elena," she says, like Elena has given her back her future even though it was always hers to begin with. "For everything. I don't know what you said to him but thank you."

"What are friends for?" Elena replies lightly, hugging her to her side. "You're going to be okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

And everything is okay, for a while. Until Lucy is late.

---

Mystic Falls: April 1, 2014

"And if I was a child, did it matter / If you got to wash your hands?" -Taylor Swift, "Would've, Could've, Should've"

"I can drive you," Elena says. "If you're sure that's what you want."

They are sitting on Elena's bed again, side by side leaning against the headboard. Lucy has her arms wrapped around herself and Elena has her teddy bear in her lap.

"I got my acceptance letter to Yale yesterday. I'll be the first person in my family to go to college," Lucy says. "That's what I want." She has aged a decade in a week.

"Congratulations," Elena says. She fiddles with the bear's bow. "I bet your parents are so proud."

Lucy nods. "They're thrilled."

Elena hands her the bear. Lucy clutches the stuffed animal to her chest.

"I wish I could make him pay for this," Lucy spits out viciously.

"You could," Elena reminds her. "I'll help," she adds darkly.

Lucy shakes her head. "I'm not strong enough," she admits helplessly. "One person would call me a slut and I'd crumble."

She looks at Elena miserably. "I'm not brave enough to let everyone know I'm not the girl they think I am."

"This isn't your fault," Elena protests.

"I have my sisters to think about," Lucy ploughs on, ignoring her words. "How would it feel for them to be forever known as Slutty Lucy's little sisters? Annie will be a freshman next year. Mary Beth's starting middle school. The perfect ages to find out what a whore your older sister is."

"Stop calling yourself those things." Elena grips her hand. "You did nothing wrong."

Lucy shakes off her hand, turning away, still clutching the teddy bear to her, "I knew it was wrong, I did it anyway."

"He was wrong, not you."

Lucy's lips flatten out, like she's trying to smile or even smirk, but her fear and misery and self-loathing just won't let her.

"You know my mom is pregnant, again?"

Elena stills.

"No, I didn't," she says slowly.

"Makes sense, she told the congregation on Sunday," Lucy says.

Elena ignores the subtle prod at her erratic church attendance. She goes when her parents go.

"Look, I get that this is all a lot, and your parents have a lot on their plates, but I really think—"

Lucy shakes her head ferociously, cutting her off.

"I don't…" Lucy trails off. "No one can ever know, okay?"

"Of course," Elena says, caving at once. This has never been her decision.

"I know this makes me a hypocrite," Lucy says in one breath. "I know you must be laughing at me."

Elena shakes her head. "I'm not. I promise. It's okay to change your mind." Elena puts an arm around her shoulders. "I mean that in more ways than one."

Lucy stares at Elena's vanity mirror, barely seeing her own reflection. "I'm going to college," she says with finality.

---

Mystic Falls: April 12, 2014

"This is what makes us girls / We don't stick together 'cause we put love first…" – Lana Del Rey, "This is What Makes Us Girls"

"It's like you spend all your time with Lucy now," Caroline says, the hint of whine in her voice grating against Elena.

"You're the one who wanted to be friends with her," Elena reminds her.

"No," Caroline shakes her head. "Actually, I wanted to get closer to her, so she'd make me cheer captain next year." She regards Elena suspiciously. "Is that why you said you didn't want to make captain?" she asks. "Is that why you're suddenly all over her?" The jealousy in Caroline's voice is crystal clear.

Elena rolls her eyes. "You're being paranoid. We just bonded, that's all." Caroline doesn't look convinced. "I don't want to be captain, Caroline," Elena says flatly. "I want you to be captain, because you want to be captain, you know that. Lucy and I are just hanging out, that's all." And it's not like Elena can explain why she and Lucy are suddenly so close. Caroline could never keep that secret.

"Do you like her better than me?" Caroline asks. "You were so mad at her last month," she reminds her.

Elena rolls her eyes. "I like you the same," she says firmly. "She's leaving for school next year and we'll still be here, together."

She says nothing about being mad at Lucy – she can't even remember the lie she told Caroline to explain her behavior that night. It's not like she could explain it wasn't Lucy she was mad at then. Not like she can tell Caroline what she saw in Tanner's office.

"But I'm way more fun than she is, right?"

Elena puts her arms around Caroline's neck, pulling her closer. "No one is more fun than you, Care."

After a moment Caroline wraps her own arms around Elena's waist.

"You're damn right, they're not, Gilbert."

---

Mystic Falls: April 19, 2014

"You have a mind to keep me quiet / And although you can try / Better men have hit their knees / And bigger men have died…" – Brandi Carlile, "Raise Hell"

One warm day in April while they are sunning in her backyard, Elena turns to Lucy and says, "I could say it was me."

Lucy looks at her, wide-eyed.

"I could do it," Elena says. "There would be no point in him saying it was really you, he'd never tell."

Lucy is silent, looking at Elena like she has grown a second head. But she hasn't said no yet, so Elena keeps going.

"He should be held responsible. My parents won't disown me or anything. Jeremy saw what he did at the carnival, he'll back me up," Elena is speaking quickly now. "It could've been me. People will believe it was me."

Lucy finally breaks her silence. "What about Matt?"

Elena chews on her lips. "It would suck to hurt him but…I think it might be time to break up with him anyway. Maybe it will be easier for him this way." Elena shrugs. "Everyone will just call me a slut and tell him he could do better, anyway."

Lucy shakes her head. "You can't be labeled a slut for me."

"That won't last," Elena says. "I can take it."

"People will talk, you'll lose friends…there's too much to lose, Elena. I can't let you do this."

"People talk about me no matter what I do," Elena reminds her. "Bonnie and Caroline are the only friends that really matter."

Lucy looks at her seriously. "I'm graduating in less than two months," she says seriously. "By the end of the summer I'll be in New Haven. Let's just leave this in the past."

"Okay, if that's what you want."

"It is."

---

Mystic Falls: May 17, 2014

The idea would've died right there in Elena's backyard if Lucy didn't see Tanner with those careless fingers on the hem of some Grove Hill cheerleader's skirt during the regional cheer competition less than a month later. Lucy's birthday is in two days, she will only be 17 but the curly-haired girl blushing under his gaze looks decades younger to her, though she must be 14 or 15 at most.

Lucy puts her arms around Elena's waist, her chin on her shoulder. "Bury him," she whispers in her ear.

And Elena, who doesn't miss a thing, let alone Tanner's little show or his pretty little prey, leans back into her, clasping her hand with Lucy's on her stomach. "Six feet deep," she agrees.

She's never looked forward to being called a slut more in her life, because this? Retribution for this disgusting man? This would be worth it.

---

Mystic Falls: May 23, 2014

And she would have buried him alive with relish, if her parents' car didn't go off Wickery Bridge a week later.

---

Mystic Falls: May 25, 2014

Lucy only visits her once in the hospital. Her hair is freshly cut into a sleek bob, not a curl in sight. Elena's hair is a wild mess of curls and grief, still smelling of the lake where she drowned.

"It doesn't matter," Lucy says before Elena can get her apology out. "You told me it was okay to change my mind. I'm saying the same to you now," Lucy says firmly. "You've been through enough," she adds.

Lucy leaves for summer session a week after graduation. She does not come back. Elena and Lucy do not speak again until September.

---

Mystic Falls: July 7, 2014

"They put my hands in water / Told me I'm a god / I might be someone's daughter / Might be somewhat odd / But I was wild once / And I can't forget it / I was wild, chasing stones..." -Laura Marling, "Wild Once"

When Elena can't take it anymore she goes to the cemetery. When Caroline is smothering her and Jeremy is avoiding her and Sheriff Forbes is too sad to look her in the eyes and Aunt Jenna is too stressed by her sudden responsibilities, Elena slips out the back door at the Forbes' house and walks to the cemetery.

She brings her journal or a book and spends hours with her parents' gravesites. In the graveyard no one is staring at her with sad eyes, monitoring her every emotion. Today she is writing in her diary.

"Oh, excuse me, I didn't realize I was intruding," a kind voice rings out.

Elena looks up, startled. Uneasily, she realizes her trespasser is Mrs. Kenneth, Lucy's mother.

"It's fine, Mrs. Kenneth," Elena says politely, closing her diary.

Mrs. Kenneth has a bouquet of flowers and a sleeping baby in her bassinet.

"I just came to visit my mother," she explains. "I can come back another time."

"No, don't worry about me, please stay," Elena insists.

Mrs. Kenneth smiles at her gratefully and walks over to a grave to Elena's left. Elena stares as she places the baby beside the headstone and begins to tidy up, taking away the old flowers and replacing them with new ones.

"Your mother was a Gilbert?" Elena asks.

Mrs. Kenneth smiles at her. "Yes," she says. "She was Cynthia Gilbert before she got married."

"She was my great-aunt," Elena says, still amazed at the connection.

Mrs. Kenneth nods. "That's right, you know your family tree."

"Not that well, clearly, I never knew Lucy and I were related," Elena says.

"Well, truthfully, my husband didn't approve of your parents," Mrs. Kenneth confesses. Her eyes grow wide. "Oh dear, that was so thoughtless of me, Sweetheart, please don't pay me any mind."

Elena shakes her head. "It's fine, Lucy told me y'all aren't exactly my biggest fans."

"I think you're a perfectly lovely girl, Elena," Mrs. Kenneth says firmly. "And just because I didn't agree with all of your parents' choices, doesn't mean I disliked them."

"They were good parents," Elena says hoarsely. "They loved me."

"Of course they did," Mrs. Kenneth agrees. "They just didn't know what to do with you."

"What do you mean?" Elena asks warily.

"It's not easy, being the parent to a beautiful girl," Mrs. Kenneth explains gently. "There was so much more they could've done to protect you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Elena says stiffly. "They always protected me. They always interfered when men…" Elena feels her pulse flutter as she fights against the memories. "They protected me."

"And what about your soul?" Mrs. Kenneth asks gently.

Elena stares at her blankly. "We're talking about two different things, Mrs. Kenneth," Elena says finally. "And besides, we went to the same church you do."

Something about the look on her face stops Mrs. Kenneth from proselytizing.

"We would love to have you back," Mrs. Kenneth says gently. "When you're ready," she adds, taking in Elena's stubborn expression.

"I'm interrupting your time with your mother," Elena says stiffly, shoving her diary into her bag. "I'll go."

"Oh no, stay, dear," Mrs. Kenneth insists. "I just wanted to introduce the baby, I know it's silly, but…" she shrugs helplessly.

"I don't think it's silly at all," Elena says, softening towards her.

Mrs. Kenneth smiles gratefully at her, then turns to her mother's grave.

"Hi Mama," she says. "I'm here with Cousin Elena, I've brought my new baby girl to see you. I named her Samantha."

"Like our ancestor, Samantha Gilbert," Elena says softly. "The painter."

Mrs. Kenneth smiles and nods. "She was one of the first women to attend Whitmore College."

She turns back to her mother's grave. "And now my Lucy is a Yale student." She beams with pride.

"Lucy's brilliant," Elena says softly.

"I'm so proud of that girl," Mrs. Kenneth says. She adjusts her baby's blanket. "You've got a wonderful big sister to look up to, my little Samantha. She's perfect, she did everything right."

Elena watches her with her youngest daughter, suffocating under all of the things she knows about her oldest that would make her mother weep in horror. All the ways she failed her daughter where Elena's parents did not fail her.

"I'm gonna go now," Elena says suddenly, grabbing her bag and standing up.

Startled, Mrs. Kenneth looks up at her. "All right," she says, confused at Elena's sudden mood shift.

"Bye," Elena says. "It was nice to meet you, Samantha," she adds in a softer voice.

"I meant what I said, about the church being happy to have you back whenever you ready – and Jeremy too, of course," Mrs. Kenneth says to her.

Elena gives her a pained smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Kenneth," she says dutifully. She turns to leave but Mrs. Kenneth calls her back.

"I was wild when I was young, too, you know." She carefully studies her baby, then looks up at Elena. "You grow out of it," she says sincerely. "Other things become more important."

Elena gives her another trembling smile.

"I'm sure you're right," she says, really meaning it. She feels the furthest thing from wild.

She leaves Mrs. Kenneth and her baby at their family grave, pulling out her phone to see if she can track down Jeremy.

---

Mystic Falls: September 4, 2014

"Goddamn it, I've had enough / When did you come to think refusal was sexy? / Can't you see the tears in her eyes? / How did you ever think you had the right to / Put your entitled hands up her thighs?" -First Aid Kit, "You Are the Problem Here"

Elena is unsurprised when Tanner starts the new school year off by tormenting her, but if he's expecting any pushback, he's sorely mistaken. Elena hasn't felt like herself in month – barely feels anything at all, let alone the energy to engage with a man who hates her for protecting her friend from him.

She feels some regret for the way Tanner's ire extends to her friends, and Jeremy, too, and even the cute new boy who valiantly tries to save her. She has no regret for protecting Lucy like she did, only that she didn't finish him off.

She sees in the hallway, the way his eyes linger on the freshman girls, with their nervous smiles and perfect blowouts, tiny miniskirts showing off their summer tans. She sees, and she seethes. Some part of her is still alive under all of the wreckage, some part of still remembers the feeling of his unwanted fingers toying against her skin, making her sick to her stomach.

She feels the ghost of herself at her back, but she can't seem to get back to her, she's still the girl who lost her parents. She's still the girl that went over Wickery Bridge and drowned in the water below.

"Miss Gilbert, no lingering in the halls," Tanner calls.

Elena closes her locker, staring blankly at him.

"Don't make me give you detention," he barks. "Get to class."

Suddenly she realizes he is looking for a reaction. He wants her to fight back.

Calmly, she adjusts the strap of her bag, taking her time. By now they are the last two in the hallway, and he is standing in front of her, waiting for a reaction.

"Yes sir," she says, voice crisp and sweet, like that first bite of an apple – a sharp crack, sweetness gushing into your mouth – breaking the immaculate silence of the empty school hallway.

She turns away from him, walking into the library behind her. She has a free period, and the librarian is still waiting on her summer reading list, so she knows what to recommend.

"I've been reading a lot of Southern Gothic novels lately," Elena tells her. Last year Elena was all about the Great American Novel, trying to understand what exactly qualified and what didn't, and how that constrained writers that did not identify as straight white men. Now there is something about the depth of darkness in a Southern Gothic novel, the decay surrounding them and swallowing the characters whole, that Elena cannot resist.

Mrs. Meadows smiles somewhat sadly at Elena. It's not hard to see why this particular genre would appeal to the recently orphaned daughter of a founding family.

"Have you read A Winter's Bone yet?" she asks.

---

Mystic Falls: September 12, 2014

"I'm on the outside looking through / You're throwing rocks around your room / And while you're bleeding on your back in the glass / I'll be glad that I made it out / And sorry that it all went down like it did..." -Phoebe Bridgers, "Motion Sickness"

"Are we going to the funeral?" Caroline asks. They're sitting together at their lunch table.

"God no," Bonnie says. "We'll go to whatever memorial service the football team throws together for him, that's more than enough."

"Elena?" Caroline asks.

Absentmindedly Elena nods in agreement. "Yeah, Bon's right," she says.

Tanner had been gunning for Elena hard since the school year began. It's strange to realize he will never torment her again. He will never bully a student or a back a girl into a corner again. Elena feels a strange kind of relief she does not know how to share with anyone – except maybe one person.

So, while Bonnie and Caroline debate the ethics of skipping their history teacher's funeral, Elena takes her phone out and texts Lucy under the table.

Did you hear?

Hear what?

Elena inhales sharply.

"What?" Bonnie asks.

"Nothing," Elena replies, distracted. "Just kind of hitting me hard, that's all," she explains.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Caroline says with understanding.

Bonnie smiles sympathetically at her.

Elena looks back at her friends. Clearly they think any kind of death is too hard for since her parents' death. She's not in the mood to tell them otherwise. It's not like she can tell them she has to break the news to a girl he wronged more than anyone that William Tanner is dead.

"I need some air," she says, standing, clutching her phone between her hands, she grabs her bag and makes for the door.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Bonnie calls after her.

"No, I'm fine," she calls back. "I'll be back," she adds hastily.

Outside she finds a quiet corner.

Are you alone?

Yes

Elena what's going on?

I'm calling you now

"Elena, what is it?" Lucy asks, anxious.

"He's dead," Elena blurts out.

Lucy is quiet for a long moment.

"William is dead?" Lucy asks finally.

"Yes, he is," Elena confirms.

"When?"

"Friday night."

"How?"

"It was an animal attack," Elena explains. "Some wild animal ripped out his throat in the parking lot before the football game."

Lucy inhales sharply at the grisly end her tormenter met.

"Good," she says finally.

"Yeah," Elena agrees.

"Thank you for telling me," Lucy says formally. "I have to go now."

"Of course," Elena replies.

Lucy hangs up. For a moment, Elena stays where she is, phone pressed to her ear, staring at the parking lot where William Tanner died. Finally, she pockets her phone and goes back inside to where her other friends are waiting.

---

Mystic Falls: September 2014

"I used to think I was smart / But you made me look so naive..." -Olivia Rodrigo, "Vampire"

There are defining moments in life, moments when you know your choices will define everything that happens next, so you wait, you pause and think it through. But when Elena finds bitemarks on Caroline Forbes, she does not think, she simply acts. Barreling across the party to shove Stefan Salvatore's brother as hard as she can.

She's staring him straight in his furious blue eyes as she points her finger at him, promising that if he ever lays a hand on her friend again she'll make his life hell. And for a moment she feels so much like herself she loses her breath.

Later, when she finds Caroline bleeding on the ground, disoriented and desperate for his approval, Elena wants to throw up. She's so tired of picking girls up off of the ground after a man is through having his way with her.

Caroline will insist she is fine, and Elena will wonder if her friend knows it's a lie.

And maybe some part of Elena is jealous when she sees Caroline in the hallway at school, acting like nothing ever happened with Damon, like he didn't leave bruises and bitemarks all over her. It's been years and she still dreams about that dark look on Caleb's face at cheer camp when she blurted out that she didn't want him to touch her. Still looks over her shoulder, expecting to see Mr. Crawford lurking about. Still carefully counts the years of med school Beau Ford has at Whitmore – if she's lucky he'll graduate before she steps foot on campus as a freshman, like every Gilbert before her has.

Elena has always felt hunted by men, since that first time the word "Jailbait" was applied to her like a brand. She's not sure what they'll call her when she grows up, but she's sure she'll hate it just as much.

And then suddenly every strange thing about Stefan and Damon Salvatore clicks into place; they're fucking vampires. And everything Elena Gilbert knows about fighting back suddenly means nothing.

---

Mystic Falls: December 5, 2014

"So how can this be, you're praying to me / There's a look in your eyes, I know just what that means / I can be, I can be your everything…" – In This Moment, "Whore"

Being stalked is nothing new, being stalked by a vampire is just an escalation of her worst fears.

Elena is at the dance, pouring herself a glass of punch when she feels someone sidle up behind her, she tenses, glancing down at the punch, trying to catch of glimpse of whoever is behind her in the surface.

"You seem intimately familiar with looking over your shoulder," Damon remarks, keeping his voice low.

"This isn't exactly the first time I've been in this situation," Elena admits, turning around, her eyes on the exits. She is still tensed, ready for confrontation.

"What, you get stalked by vampires a lot?" he asks, amused.

"Not by vampires," she replies.

Before he can react, Stefan appears to tell her that Jeremy is missing.

Later, alone in her bed, after she has driven pencils through the hands of her assailant, after she admitted to Stefan how good it felt to fight back, she will wonder if it could always feel like that. If there was some way to always feel as strong and as capable as she had the moment she broke the handle of that mop over her knee.

She ignores the tiny voice in the back of her head wondering how naïve Stefan could possibly be, thinking a girl like her has never had a reason to fight back before. Did he not understand what she meant when she told him there was already bad stuff in her life when they met? Did he really think death and vampires were the only bad things to ever touch her when she still feels the phantom touch of so many men who wanted her long before she understood what they meant by their lust?

---

Mystic Falls: December 12, 2014

"Oh, the queen of peace / Always does her best to please / It isn't any use / Somebody's gotta lose…" – Florence The Machine, "Queen of Peace"

"Did you do magic on Mr. Crawford?" Elena asks Sheila abruptly.

Sheila looks up at Elena.

"My piano teacher," Elena adds belatedly.

"I remember him," Sheila says in an even measured tone.

"It's just, you said you'd have a word with him, and then he moved away, and I never saw him again," Elena explains. "I always wondered what you said and ever since Bonnie said you were witches I just…"

Sheila nods regally. "You're right, I did work magic over him." She watches Elena for her reaction.

"Thank you," Elena says finally. "I was so afraid of him," she confesses aloud for the first time ever.

She still thinks about their last encounter. Can still smell his cologne and feel his spit against her cheek, the way he grasped her wrists between his hands with bruising pressure, how he shook her until her teeth rattled and she couldn't see straight.

"You're welcome," Sheila replies. "You shouldn't have had to go through that," she adds. "There have been so many bad men drawn to you, but he was the worst one – until now."

Elena flinches. "Stefan's not bad," she says softly.

"You don't know that," Sheila replies, tone gentle but firm. "Don't fool yourself, you've known him for three months, he's been alive for over a century. You don't know the sum of his life, good or bad."

"Do I really have to know everything to love him?" Elena asks. "I know he makes me feel good."

Sheila shakes her head. "There are more important things than feeling good, Elena Gilbert. You should know that better than anyone."

"I know being him being a vampire is complicated, but if I can accept him for what he is…" Elena looks at her hopefully.

"He'll still be a vampire, and you'll still be the kind of girl that you are," Sheila reminds her.

This hangs between them, the kind of girl Elena is has always complicated her life, she's been holding her breath for years over these complications. Elena is so tired of holding her breath.

"Maybe that doesn't really matter," Elena argues weakly. "Maybe I can live with it," she continues.

"Vampires don't live," Sheila points out.

"I just want to be happy," Elena whispers finally.

"I know," Sheila replies. "This kind of happiness comes at a price," she tells her seriously. "Just make sure you're willing to pay."

Sheila Bennett will be dead before the end of the night. Elena Gilbert will think about her words every day until the day she dies.

---

Mystic Falls: February 15, 2015

"Predictably those cursed words / Did haunt me every day / No matter what I did / No matter where I hid / I spent my years believing / That there was no other way / But suffering / And suffering's what I did…" – Terra Nova, "Suffer For Her Sins"

"It's just biology you know," Isobel tells Elena.

Elena takes in the dead-eyed stare of the woman who gave birth to her.

"What is?" Elena asks.

"The way you can't walk through a room without controlling the atmosphere," she answers.

Elena stares at her.

"The Petrova bloodline has to continue," she explains. "We're all like that. Sure, to an extent everyone feels the biological imperative to procreate, we just make it worse. A basic human instinct that so quickly becomes obsession in our presence."

Elena doesn't speak. It should be a revelation, knowing at last why men have hounded her since before she even really understood what sex was. But as Isobel stands there, matter of factly telling her that all of the horrors she experienced when she was too young to handle it is just biology – just her bloodline – and Elena feels nothing.

"All humans are bioluminescent, just a little bit," Isobel explains. "We just have an extra dose. You and Katherine though, you've got a little more than me, even. My mother was like us, too. The light hit her just right, no matter where she stood."

Isobel examines her with disinterested eyes.

"It's like you're lit from within," she tells her daughter.

"Why are you telling me this?" Elena asks finally.

"Because you need to understand the effect you have on people, Elena," Isobel says bluntly. "You have your own gravity, you need to be careful, or you might bring someone into your orbit that you can't handle."

Elena smiles at her bitterly. "I've been careful all my life."

"Not careful enough," Isobel shoots back. "Watch out for those Salvatores, you're just a girl."

"A girl with my own gravity," Elena throws her own words back at her.

"And you are responsible for what you keep in your orbit."

"How much of a choice do I really have, though?" Elena asks.

Isobel raises an eyebrow.

"I had a piano teacher once," Elena explains. "He was obsessed. I got a new teacher – a local woman, and he lived an hour away but he just…" she sighs. "He started show up everywhere I was. He came to my school. My parents had to get the sheriff involved." She looks at her. "How was I responsible for that? Where was my choice, in that?"

Isobel stares at her through stranger's eyes.

"All I wanted to do was play the piano," Elena tells her, fists clenched. "He told me he lived for that hour of his week and that I was cruel for taking it away from him. I was fourteen. I was still in middle school." She stops abruptly. "I just wanted to play piano," she says again softly.

"You're always going to be the one who has to live with the consequences, Elena," Isobel says. "The Salvatores will have much worse consequences than an obsessive piano teacher."

Elena sighs, realizing they are talking about two different things.

"I can live with that," she answers stubbornly.

"I don't think you can," Isobel replies.

Later, Isobel will tell her as long as she has a Salvatore on each arm she is doomed, and Elena will wonder if Isobel ever loved anyone at all, or if she held too many bad men in her orbit to trust anyone with her heart. Elena wonders if she will be like, sooner rather than later. Will it turn her cold too, this gravity she seems to have inherited from Katherine?

---

Mystic Falls: March 26, 2015

"Chase me down through the fields / You got your hooves, and I got my bare heels / Chop off my head to show the world / That I am no ordinary girl..." -Georgi Kay, "Ipswich"

Elena lingers.

"What is it, little Petrova?" Katherine asks, amused. Trapped in a tomb, starving, and she still has the upper hand.

"Isobel said we have our own gravity," Elena answers finally. This has been at the back of her mind since the moment Katherine placed a finger on her collarbone, drawing a line across her with deliberate ease as she circled her like a stalking panther – her perfect mirror.

"She flatters herself," Katherine replies. "She has pull – a miniscule, tiny fraction of what you and I have."

"So, she was right," Elena says.

"You've always known she was," Katherine points out. "You've experienced it your entire life." She nods at Elena's rapidly paling face. "Oh yeah, Jenna told me allll about your many stalkers. Quite the collection for a 17-year-old. That piano teacher sounds like a piece of work, you're lucky you had a witch at your disposal for that one. Obsessive personalities like that are such a pain in the ass if you don't know what to do with them. And what 14-year-old does?"

Elena clears her throat. "I meant she was right that it happened to you," she explains, her voice coming out a desperate croak.

"Of course," Katherine says.

"So, you had ones like…" Elena trails off. "Him."

"You don't end up an unwed mother pre-Renaissance because men only kind of like you," Katherine answers.

Elena frowns. "Did you…" she hesitates unsure how to asks. "Did you even like him? Your baby's father? Did you love him?"

Katherine considers the question. Green eyes and strong hands flash through her mind. "What's love? He made me feel like I was a goddess."

Elena snorts. "Right, powerful." She should've guessed it would be all about power for a girl like Katherine.

Katherine shakes her head. "No," she argues. "Free. He made me feel free to make my own choices, my own decisions without my father lording over me."

"And then you paid for those choices, and he didn't," Elena points out.

Katherine shrugs. "And now he's dead, he's dust. And I am eternal."

Elena cannot deny this. "But you're still living with the consequences," Elena points out. "All of that led you right into Klaus' grasp."

Katherine shrugs. "Vampires aren't alive," she reminds Elena.

Elena rolls her eyes at her childish argument.

"C'mon, ask me what you really want to ask me," Katherine coaxes her.

"I don't think I'll like your answer," Elena replies.

"Ask me anyway." Katherine smiles at her charmingly, making Elena shiver. It's uncanny, she can almost feel the muscles in her face twitch imperceptibly, like she is the one grinning, coaxing herself into giving her what she wants.

"How do you live with it?" Elena asks finally. "Having your own gravity?"

Katherine looks her dead in the eye. "Revel in it," she advises her. "You have so much power, stop being fucking afraid. You could've told that creepy old freak to jump off a bridge, and he would've done it. You're not the one who should be afraid."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Elena whispers. "I think it's time for me to go."

"You don't have to be afraid of me either," Katherine calls after her. "I'm you, after all."

Elena hunches her shoulders, walking faster, feeling like her chest will cave in, like Katherine is right behind her, a dark foreboding shadow of her future, following her everywhere she goes.

---

Mystic Falls: September 6, 2015

"In a sea of motherfuckers, man, you were no salvation..." -Alex Winston, "101 Vultures"

Elena used to hold other girls on her shoulders – Elena is no stranger to activities like weight training, but training so you have the strength to drive a stake into a vampire's heart is surreal.

When Damon's fingers creep beneath Elena's shirt, kneading into her bare skin, for a moment she is sixteen, behind the cotton candy booth, Tanner's fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. He is standing behind her, whispering in her ear, and she is fourteen, Mr. Crawford hovering over her shoulder at the piano bench, fingers pressed to hers. She is thirteen, Caleb looming over her, fingers in her curls, imagining yanking her up to his mouth by her hair, uncaring of the pain he could cause her. She is every small, scared version of herself backed into a corner by a man too old to have his hands on her and too selfish to ask permission.

Damon is reveling in their closeness and Elena is thinking of every man who found some excuse to get closer to her without ever wondering if she wanted him there.

"Is that all?" Elena asks, throat dry.

Reluctantly, Damon releases her.

Later, on the phone, Dean will say, "Fucking finally!" when she says Alaric is training her and Elena will think of nothing else for days. Again and again, people tell her she should depend on them to protect her, and again and again they leave her exposed – they touch her without permission. So, Elena thinks about the man who cheers her on while she learns to defend herself. She thinks about Alaric, the only one willing to teach her.

And when she can no longer avoid it, she remembers how this isn't the first time that Damon has reminded her of Coach Tanner. Or of Caleb at cheer camp, of Mr. Crawford, lurking around every corner for long terrifying months before Sheila Bennett worked her magic on him.

---

Mystic Falls: October 22, 2015

"Baby, I need a friend / But I'm a vampire smile, you'll meet a sticky end / I'm here trying not to bite your neck / But it's beautiful, and I'm gonna get so / Drunk on you and kill your friends…" – Kyla La Grange, "Vampire Smile"

Klaus leads Elena around the ballroom with the earned confidence of a thousand years of waltzing. And it is easy, to let him lead, and smile blithely, all the while imagining she is back in Charleston, hanging out with Dean and pretending her life hasn't gone straight to hell. Pretending she is still a person she recognizes, and not some frightened stranger who has made choices the Elena of yesteryear – the girl who was not an orphan, who still had an aunt and an uncle and thought vampires were merely interesting allegories for repressed sexual desire and certainly never imagined she'd meet one that wears her exact face or die for another – the very one spinning her around the ballroom, like some nightmarish Prince Charming from Hell.

"Thinking of your friend?" Klaus guesses.

Elena frowns. She doesn't like that he's right.

"Wondering how many dances you'll manage to steal before Sheriff Forbes intervenes," Elena says, redirecting his attention. She'd feel bad, but she knows the Sheriff can handle it. Elena's monsters aren't Dean Winchester's problem.

"I only asked for the one dance," Klaus reminds her, but he is frowning now too. "I suppose she's the one who had me labeled a stalker," he says, alluding to the local headlines from last spring.

Elena fights a flinch, but she knows Klaus can feel the way her muscles tighten. His hand at her waist shifts, like he wants to stroke her back, comfort her, but knows better. Elena vows to stay perfectly still, to not acknowledge the flutter of his hand, like he's nervous, having her in his arms. It means nothing at all.

"It was just what made sense to tell the public," Elena says vaguely. Truthfully, the stalker cover had been Sheriff Forbes' idea.

"Well, I suppose having a murderous stalker is a bit dramatic for a small town, but far more believable than the truth," Klaus concedes.

Elena is preoccupied still; she swears she wouldn't have been so careless otherwise.

"Well yeah, and with that stupid expose last year about why my Biology teacher resigned," she says bitterly.

Realizing what she just did, Elena can't help it, she gasps. She holds her breath, checking the room, wondering who is listening that shouldn't be.

"Biology teacher?" Klaus asks, voice soft and dangerous.

"It's nothing," Elena replies through numb lips.

"I don't think it is," Klaus says, watching her face now.

Elena stares blindly over his shoulder. "Nothing ever happened," she repeats for what feels like the thousandth time. "He never touched me," she adds, feeling horribly out of focus and like she wants to run away.

"What was his name?" Klaus asks, sounding far from casual.

"Doesn't matter," Elena tells him. "He's been dead for years," she adds, before he can get any high-minded ideas of vengeance.

"Who wrote the expose?" Klaus demands, realizing his thirst for blood won't be quenched.

Elena smiles bitterly. "He's dead too," she answers. Logan Fell only aired the expose to get back at Jenna for their breakup. In the end, it was all just fodder for the town gossip mill. Times like this, Elena can't blame Lucy a bit for not wanting anyone to ever know about what Coach Tanner did to her.

Klaus harumphs, displeased by the lack of resolution.

"You said that he never touched you," he realizes. "But there's been others, that's why it was so believable to say a stalker murdered your family."

Elena looks at him finally, face smooth and unreadable. "Of course," she answers blankly. "What did you think it was like for us?" She shakes her head. "Never mind, I guess they wouldn't have been called stalkers when Katherine was alive. Or Tatia, for that matter. That concept didn't exist yet."

"They weren't called stalkers until the last century," Klaus admits.

"And women were second class citizens," Elena says bitterly. "I'm sure they just blamed it on us."

It unsettles Klaus, the way she aligns herself with Katherine and Tatia. Katherine is a selfish succubus and Tatia was dead before Elena had ever been thought of. But Elena knows this part of their lives like the back of her hands, like his teeth in her neck.

"They still do," she adds vaguely.

This waltz feels as if it's gone on forever. Elena is desperate for escape; Klaus is close to the worst person she could ever be caught in this particular conversation with. More than anything she'd like the song to end so she can find out what Esther Mikaelson wants from her.

"How many have there been?" Klaus demands after a moment. He is like a dog with a bone – a wolf with a lamb chop.

Elena shrugs. "Why does it bother you so much?" she asks instead of answering. "Are you really that upset nothing you've done to me has been all that original?"

Finally, the music ends. Klaus is fuming at her words and Elena is so grateful when he drops his hold on her like she's burned him, so she unthinkingly twists the knife.

"Even for a vampire stalker, it's all been done before," she tells him. "Right down to the decade dance."

Elena steps back, curtsies gracefully, then turns to leave. Klaus glares after her as she walks away.

---

In Route to St. Augustine, Florida: November 11, 2015

"And there's no one coming to rescue me / So, I've got to be my own hero..." -Lily Black, "My Own Hero"

"What's this guy's name?" Elena asks. She's riding shotgun in Dean's car and trying very hard not to look at him too much.

"Matthew Miller," Dean answers. "He's an old hunting buddy of my dad's," he explains. "He's got some land just outside St. Augustine, got a shooting range and a home gym and everything we could possibly need for training."

"Does he live alone?" Elena asks.

"Apparently he got a new girlfriend recently, but she shouldn't be around much."

Elena nods. "Okay."

Dean hesitates. "Matthew's kind of old school," he says finally. "He's probably gonna have a bit to say about you being…" he glances at her, then looks back at the road, struggling to find the words.

"A girl?" Elena supplies dryly.

"A pretty girl," Dean admits begrudgingly. "Just ignore him, do the work, he'll shut up eventually."

"Thanks for the heads up," Elena says.

"Don't worry, I've got your back."

"Thanks," she says. "But trust me, he can't have anything to say that I haven't already heard before."

Dean nods. "I'm sure, but still, I've got you."

She smiles at him. "Thank you."

"So uh, how was New Hampshire?" Dean asks.

"I never left the motel room," Elena says. "Literally," she adds.

"Dad's just playing it safe."

"I understand," Elena says reluctantly. "I did miss the sun, though."

Dean laughs. "Well, they've got plenty of that here."

"Are we staying with Matthew?" Elena asks.

Dean shakes his head. "Nah, I gotta motel room near downtown. It's a ritzy town, good pizza place nearby though."

"Yum, pizza!" Elena says dreamily.

Dean laughs.

"So, what are we starting on?" Elena asks.

"Well, Dad tells me you're a crack shot, but I'd like to see it for myself," Dean starts. He side eyes her.

"My best friend's mom is the Sheriff," Elena says innocently. "You think I've never been to a gun range?"

"It is a little unusual," Dean hedges.

"I'm from Virginia," Elena points out in amusement. "It might not be the Deep South, but we still drink sweet tea and worship the second amendment."

Dean snorts in amusement. "Okay, you got me there."

"I don't know how to shoot a shotgun," she offers. "Your dad didn't give me a chance to tell him that, he just called me a smartass and begrudgingly lent me one of his handguns."

"You are a smartass," Dean reminds her. "But that's good to know, we can work on that while we're here. The kickback is gonna suck for a bit, especially if you don't have great upper body strength."

Elena doesn't want to mention the whole cheerleader thing because this is supposed to be a platonic relationship, no matter how much time she spends staring at his hands and his mouth, so instead she just smiles.

"I'm good with hard work," she says noncommittally.

"Good," Dean replies. "Hunting is hard work." He hesitates. "Are you sure about this Elena?" he asks finally. "This isn't an easy life, and you're so young."

She gives him a twisted smile.

"Men never remind me how young I am, this is a first."

"You could go to college," Dean ignores her. It twists his gut though, how used to it she seems to be, the way men refuse to acknowledge her youth.

"No, I can't," Elena says shortly.

"Elena," Dean starts but she shakes her head fiercely, cutting him off.

"You have no idea, Dean," she says fiercely. "Just let it go."

He sighs. "You know if you'd just tell me what was going on…"

"I can't do that either," Elena says firmly. "This is happening, so either help me, or take me back to the airport, I'll find another hunter to do it."

Dean grits his teeth, but he nods. "Okay," he says finally. "Let's do this."

---

After dropping her stuff off at the motel room, Dean takes Elena to the pizza place as a peace offering for their earlier disagreement.

Elena feels bad for snapping at him, but she's stuck between a rock and John Winchester. If he doesn't want his son to know about Klaus or Alaric or the White Oak Stake, then Elena has to respect that, even if she thinks Dean deserves to know. John has done so much for her, and a lot of it goes against everything he believes in. The least she can do is respect his wishes.

But she also can't keep going on like this forever, the perpetual victim waiting for the next monster to leap out from behind and take a bite out of her. She needs to know how to protect herself, how to fight back, otherwise she has no chance of survival.

"Pepperoni or sausage?" Dean asks.

"Both," Elena answers automatically. "And bacon," she adds. "And BBQ chicken."

He laughs. "Hungry are we?"

"It's Jeremy's invention," she explains with a smile. "He likes to experiment with food."

"All right, let's build your brother's favorite pizza then."

Dean gestures for Elena to step forward and she does with a beaming smile for the slack-jawed teen standing at the register.

"Do you guys have pesto?"

---

Despite the staggering amount of ingredients, Dean is forced to admit that Jeremy's pizza is amazing. While he is in the bathroom Elena finds herself cornered by the soccer dad who's been eying her since their arrival.

"Are you new in town?" he asks, eyes fixed on her.

"Just passing through." Elena is non-committal, avoiding eye contact and praying the man leaves the table before Dean gets back.

"I could show you around while you're in town," he offers eagerly.

"No thank you," Elena says politely. "I think your son is trying to get your attention," she points out desperately.

His son is waving frantically at his dad, and it makes Elena's chest ache in a funny way.

"He's fine," he dismisses without looking. "Are you sure? I've lived here all my life."

"I'm sure," she says firmly.

He changes tactics abruptly. "Your pizza looks good, tell me about it," he demands.

"My brother invented it," Elena says.

The restaurant is so small, and Elena doesn't want to cause a scene, but if he doesn't leave soon she might start screaming and she's afraid she'll never stop.

Dean appears suddenly, looking dangerous.

"Oh, you must be her brother," the man says uneasily.

"No, I'm not," Dean says shortly. He looks at Elena. "You okay?" he asks directly.

"She's fine," the man interrupts.

"I didn't ask you," Dean says with an unfriendly grin. "Maggie?" he prompts Elena.

"I'm fine," Elena says. "He was just leaving."

The man opens his mouth in protest, but Dean glares him down until he leaves.

"Let's go," Dean says offering Elena his hand.

She takes it, allowing him to usher her out the door. With one last glare towards soccer dad, they are gone.

"Sorry about the name thing, I just didn't want him to know your real name," Dean explains.

Elena shakes her head. "No, it was a good idea."

"You know you could've told him to go fuck himself," Dean says after a moment.

"I didn't want to cause a scene," Elena says quietly.

"Why not?" Dean asks. "He was being a creep, that's scene-worthy in my book."

Elena considers this. "I guess I was always told to not make a big deal out of it," she says finally.

"That happens to you a lot?" Dean understands immediately.

She nods slowly. "All the time," she admits.

"Fuck," he says, summing it up in one word.

"Yeah," she agrees.

"I mean, I knew you could do that thing you did to the bartender in Charleston," he says. "But it's kinda different when you didn't ask for it, huh?"

She feels too choked up to talk about it, so she simply nods.

"That sucks," he says finally.

She shrugs. "It's always been like that," she says softly.

He examines her critically.

"Well, I think a little basic self-defense is in order," he responds finally. "Nothin' says 'Fuck You, Leave Me Alone' like a coupla broken fingers."

Elena laughs.

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 12, 2015

"And I will be nimble, and I will be quick / I will overcome all of this…" -Tommee Profitt ft. Wondra, "I'm Not Afraid"

On the drive to Matthew Miller's house Dean warns Elena to let him handle the narrow-minded hunter.

"It's not gonna matter how pretty you talk," Dean says. "He'll only take you seriously once he sees you take training seriously, so just let me handle him."

"Got it."

But upon arrival Elena quickly finds herself wondering if maybe this whole trip is a moot point.

Matthew Miller greets Dean with begrudging respect and Elena with hostile distrust. John Winchester's peer in age and training, Matthew is covered in scars and as leathery skinned as any cowboy.

"You're training this pretty little thing to be a hunter?" he asks with a sneer.

Elena keeps her face impassive.

"Yessir, Dad's orders." Dean subtly slipping in the idea that John Winchester approves of Elena being trained, even if it isn't entirely true.

"Your daddy's gone soft," Matthew barks. "She looks like a fucking pin-up fantasy, not a hunter."

"She's a Gilbert," Dean says calmly. "You know, the Virginia Gilberts?"

Matthew examines her critically. "The vampire hunters, sure," he said. "Grayson's girl?"

"Yessir."

Elena can't help but chime in, despite what Dean told her.

"You knew my dad?" she asks.

"Sure did, Princess," he calls her the title mockingly. "Never said a damn thing to me about training his kids."

"Well, he's dead now," Elena says shortly. "So, I think this decision is on me, not him."

"Elena," Dean says warningly.

She sighs and falls back.

"Being feisty won't stake any vampires for you, Girly," Matthew barks.

"She's already had training for vampire hunting," Dean says. "So, she's not totally a newbie, and Dad tells me she's a bit of a crack shot with a handgun."

Matthew remains unmoved. "I'll bet you've never handled a shotgun in your life."

Feeling defensive, Elena bites her tongue, hard.

"That's what the training's for, Matthew."

Elena can tell Matthew's resistance is starting to wear on Dean.

Matthew is already shaking his head and opening his mouth to issue another rebuff when the familiar, sweet drawl of a Southern Belle cuts him off.

"Matthew, play nice, now."

From the dark shadows of Matthew's screened in porch emerges a striking raven-haired woman around his age. She's dressed nearly identically to Matthew in jeans and a blue plaid button up, the latter clearly belong to him. Her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail and she's wearing sturdy old boots, but none of this can detract from her stunning good looks. Distantly Elena remembers that Dean mentioned Matthew had a new girlfriend and Elena supposes this must be her.

"Now Lori," Matthew begins. "Don't be telling me what to do."

"Now Matthew," Lori matches his ornery tone. "Pull your head out of your ass and let this nice young man train the poor girl."

She strides over to Elena, holding out a hand to her.

"I'm Lori, ignore him, he's a miserable old cuss set in his ways."

Elena takes her hand gratefully. "I'm Elena, I plan to do just that."

Lori smiles at her. "Good."

Elena gestures to Dean. "This is Dean."

Lori spares him a glance and polite nod but refocuses on Elena.

"Did I hear your friend say you're from Virginia?" Lori prompts.

Elena nods. "Yes Ma'am."

Lori grins. "North Carolina, we're practically neighbors."

"My mama had family there," Elena replies with pleasure.

"That's sweet and all," Matthew cuts in. "But I don't see that girl lastin' half a second in front of a vampire."

Lori rolls her eyes.

"Forgive me, but he'll never shut up unless he sees," she says to Elena in undertone.

Before Elena can respond, she flips her thick braid of hair out of the way and gently presses her fingers to Elena's cheek, gently guiding her into position to bare her throat.

"I'd say the girl's got a better survival record than you, Old Cuss," Lori says dryly. She frowns in sympathy. "They're still pink," she observes softly, reaching out with her other hand to touch the tips of her fingers to the bitemarks on Elena's throat.

Uncomfortable, Elena stares hard at the ground.

"They took a while to heal," she admits finally.

Matthew comes closer to take a look so Dean steps closer to Elena too and she feels herself lean sideways towards him.

"There's older ones on the other side," Lori points out, carefully guiding Elena to reveal the other side. "Look at the discrepancies in the patterns," she says. "Every bitemark is different."

"Four different vampires at least," Matthew agrees.

Elena clenches her fists and bears the indignity of being examined so dispassionately – of her traumas being discussed with methodical fascination.

"Well," Matthew says finally. "It looks like you're in need of some trainin'."

With that he walks back into his house.

Lori fixes the collar of Elena's shirt, smoothing her braid back into place over her shoulder. The older woman smells spicy and floral all at once, bringing to mind the heat of summer and the warmth of a winter fire.

"Sorry, Darlin'," she says. "But like I said, the man never understands without a little encouragement."

Elena nods stiffly.

"Thank you," she makes herself say, because as humiliating as the experience was, at least it worked.

Lori smiles at her, pets her cheek gently.

"Us belles gotta look out for each other, Sugar," she says congenially.

Lori directs her question to Dean. "You know where to find the gun range?"

He nods. "Yeah, I know where everything is," he assures her. "Thank you for your help," he adds, looking deeply uneasy at how she chose to go about helping.

Lori waves off his thanks and follows Matthew back into the house. Only when Dean hears the door between the porch and house close does he put his hand on Elena's shoulder and lean forward to examine her face in concern.

"Are you all right?"

She nods. "I'm fine," she assures him quickly.

"Elena, are you sure?"

"Yes," she says clearly. When she sees the concern still in his face, she continues. "What's the point of being upset about it now?" she asks rationally. "Besides, we've got training to do."

Finally, Dean nods.

"All right, let's see that sharp shooting I've heard so much about."

---

Elena, as always, is painfully conscious of how she looks. She's braided her hair out of her face and put on leggings and a lightweight jacket, but it is Florida, even if it is November, and she knows sooner or later the jacket will come off. Luckily Dean decides they really will start with the gun range first.

"At some point we'll get you your own gun but for now you can use this one," Dean says, handing over a gun.

Elena takes it, automatically checking the safety and the clip, causing Dean to nod in approval.

"I won't make you take apart and assemble it," he says. "But now you gotta show me I was right to make that choice."

He gestures to the line of bullseyes in front of her.

Elena takes a breath, feeling the weight of the gun in her hand, then she raises the gun, taking her aim. She lets out her breath, releases the safety, and fires. Without waiting to see where the bullet hits, she moves onto the next bullseye, and the next and the next, until she's aiming at the final one. Her aim is steady as she fires, then she lowers the gun and breathes out, turning to look at Dean. She turns the safety back on absentmindedly, waiting for his assessment.

He cants his head towards the targets, and she follows him to assess her work. They walk down the line in silence. Every single bullet hole is dead center on the target.

"Not bad for a pretty girl," Dean says teasingly.

Elena shrugs modestly. "You can't have gun safety without gun training," she says. "That's what Sheriff Forbes says."

Dean nods in approval. "Words to live by."

For a moment he examines the closest target, her gunshot marking dead center.

"How would you feel about switching to moving targets?" he asks slowly. "I don't think there's much else we can do with a standard target, and I think we need to warm up a bit more before we move on to the shotgun."

Elena nods slowly.

"Moving targets sound good, I've never done that before," she says.

"All right, something I can actually teach you, great." He gestures to the targets. "Matthews got these rigged to move so back to the starting line."

Elena complies, automatically checking her clip when she gets there.

"I need another clip," she says.

Dean nods approvingly. He deliberately didn't to see if she'd check herself. He hands one over.

"All right, we're just gonna go for it, and once I've seen you in action I'll know what needs to be adjusted for aiming at a moving target," Dean explains.

"Sounds great," she says.

Elena reloads while Dean heads over to the controls to start the targets moving.

"Just let me know when you're ready," he calls over to her.

Elena takes another deep breath, undoing the safety.

"I'm ready," she calls back to him.

He gives her a thumbs up, pressing start.

For a second Elena watches the targets until she can identify the pattern of movements. She raises the gun, breathing out slowly, she aims at the first target, and then she fires.

---

At the end of the day Elena is drenched in sweat and regretting her conservative approach to dressing. But she hit most of the moving targets her first go around and then all of them with a few pointers from Dean and she's proud of herself for her efforts.

Dean takes Elena to a diner more off the beaten path for dinner and they sit in the back booth and eat burgers and then Dean shows Elena how to parse newspapers for potential cases.

"The trick is knowing the difference between human weird and not human weird," he explains.

He points out an article about a toddler in West Virginia who drove himself to the movies, explaining how while funny and a little unbelievable, kids did that kind of thing all of the time.

"What about this one?" Elena asks, pointing out a case in her paper about a man who disappeared in Minnesota.

"That's a good one," Dean says after scanning the article. "We can send that one to Dad."

"So, you do this every day or?" Elena asks.

"Usually just when we're looking for a new case," Dean answers. "This is just good practice for you, we'll pass along anything we find to Dad or some other hunters we know."

"Like Matthew?" Elena asks.

Dean shakes his head. "Matthew's mostly retired now, Lori likes him at home."

"She does?" Elena asks in disbelief.

Dean snorts. "That's what she says."

They comb through the papers, with Dean pointing out cases to Elena and her checking her guesses against his knowledge. When they're done they have five or six cases to pass along, and Dean's coffee has gone cold.

"Let's get some shuteye," Dean suggests. "Tomorrow we'll start on the shotgun and that's gonna be a bitch."

"Sounds good," Elena replies.

"I'm gonna go pay the bill, you stay put."

While Dean takes care of the bill Elena cleans up the newspapers, stacking them neatly to be discarded on their way out the door.

"Bus your table, Miss?" a male voice says from behind her.

Elena represses a sigh. While the back booth gave them some privacy, it's also right beside the entrance to the kitchen.

She turns to look at the bus boy, who must be Dean's age at least. She gives him a polite smile.

"It's just our coffee mugs left," she says as a dismissal.

"Our?" he asks, grasping at the tiny opening she left him with both hands.

"My friend and I's," she answers warily.

"So that pretty boy's just a friend, that's good."

He leans down, reaching across her far too closely to grab the coffee mugs. Instinctively Elena leans back, away from him.

"This really does happen a lot," Dean observes calmly from behind the bus boy.

"I was just clearing the table for your friend," he says hastily as he backs off.

"Friend?" Dean asks. "That's my girl, now fuck off, asshole," he says shortly.

"But she said…" the bus boy trails off, uneasily aware that for all Dean's pretty looks, he does not seem afraid of confrontation.

"It's new," Elena pipes up. "I'm so used to saying we're just friends," she says, smiling at Dean, her relief turning her expression into something akin to adoration – something too close to the truth.

"Yeah well, it took you forever to get the hint, Baby," Dean says, making Elena's heart flutter against her ribcage, despite knowing he doesn't mean anything by his words.

"Well fuck me then," the bus boy mutters under his breath as he walks away.

"You okay?" Dean asks.

Elena nods. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"All right, let's head out." He cants his head towards the door.

Elena stands and Dean puts his hand out behind her, hovering over her lower back.

"Do you mind?" he murmurs.

She shakes her head, and he presses his hand to her lower back.

"Just to give him a nice clear visual," he says in her ear, guiding her out of the diner and into his car.

"Thanks," she says once they're safely incased inside.

"I think that's our cover from now on," Dean replies.

"What, that we're together?" she asks, heart fluttering.

He nods. "I think it's the quickest way to get men to leave you alone." He glances at her. "As long as you're comfortable with it."

Elena holds back a snort. "Yeah, it's a good idea," Elena says. "You give a good boyfriend mean mug for a guy who's never had a real girlfriend," she adds teasingly, wondering when any of this will feel normal to her.

Dean chuckles. "Well, tell you the truth, both times I wanted to kick the shit out of the guys for not caring about how obviously uncomfortable you were."

"Is it obvious?" Elena asks.

He nods. "To anyone paying attention, yeah."

"I always wondered," she replies, her voice so soft it's nearly hidden by the growl of the engine.

"They know," Dean says sternly. "And they don't care." He clenches his jaw. "They deserve to get the shit kicked out of them."

"Probably," Elena agrees.

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 13, 2015

"Am I glass or am I iron? / Will I shatter or rise higher / From the ashes I've been buried in?" -Caylee Hammack, "Forged in the Fire"

Dean is a light sleeper, Elena has discovered, but also an easy sleeper. She's not sure if he just isn't used to sleeping in a bed with another person or if it's something his father trained into him, but even the quietest movements can wake him.

Which is unfortunate considering the nightmares she has are much, much louder.

After watching Matt drown as Stefan drags her away for what feels like the hundredth time since the accident, Elena is relieved to be awake. Awake is better than asleep. Awake means she can distract herself, there is no relief or distraction in her sleep, only painful reminders.

The only problem is that Elena does not sleep alone. It doesn't take long for Dean to fall back to sleep after being startled awake by her nightmare, but Elena doesn't want to risk falling back to sleep and being so close to Dean with nothing to do is distracting to say the least.

So, Elena runs. She knows Dean feels her get out of bed, but she's hoping he'll just assume she's reading or going to the bathroom, not running instead of sleeping. Elena has been a casual runner at best before this, but now with nothing to do but train and no one to keep her company but Dean, Elena has to develop new habits.

Out on the muggy streets of St. Augustine, Elena keeps to brightly lit suburban sidewalks, dodging the downtown nightlife and dark alleyways. She doesn't want company, just an escape from her own head.

When the sky begins to lighten she turns back to the motel room, sliding through the door quietly and into the bathroom before Dean can stir. She washes the sweat from her body, marveling at the range of colors from her livid bruises. She's no stranger to bruises, even before she spent the last year of her life running from monsters, she was a cheerleader, injury came with the territory, the thrill of the risk.

She enjoyed them in a strange way, knowing that she earned the bruises from her hard work and dedication to her sport. Now, she is starting to enjoy them again, knowing every bruise is a lesson in what makes a great hunter.

When she's done showering she assesses the damage in the mirror. Between the sweat and humidity, her perfectly straight hair is no longer, unraveling in its hasty bun, unwilling to be constrained and smoothed over any longer, wild tendrils escaping at the nape of her neck, snaking down her spine, sticking to her skin wetly.

While her straightening iron warms up, she takes down her hair, coming her fingers through it, into something that resembles uniformity, then she pulls all but the bottom layer back up. The iron ready, she begins on her right side, working her way across. The clamp, hiss, steam is soothing at the point, as she watches her hair go from chaos to order, her mind goes blissfully blank – almost as blank as hitting that runner's high.

When her hair is perfectly straight, she slips on her clothes. Her comfortable uniform of plain t-shirts and leggings, Chuck Taylors upgraded for steel-toed boots at Dean's advice. Once dressed, she braids her hair back tightly, knowing she will have to do this all again the next morning – and the next and the next and the next.

Without thinking, she begins her makeup routine. Realistically she knows she doesn't need it, she's going to sweat it off before the day is over, but there is reassurance in routines, and it makes her feel more like herself. She's swiping on the last layer of mascara when Dean knocks on the door.

"Elena, you almost done in there?" He calls through the closed door.

She examines her reflection in the mirror. She looks just like Elena Gilbert.

"Yeah, I'm done," she says, opening the door.

---

"Perfect girl," Lori calls her from the doorway to the gym.

Elena looks over at her, startled.

"Excuse me?" Elena asks warily.

Dean has stepped out for a moment to take a phone call from his dad, leaving Elena unattended.

"Perfect hair, perfect makeup – you're just so perfect," Lori explains.

Elena stares at her, eyes wide. "Thank you?" she offers hesitantly.

"Oh Belle," Lori says, softening. "I'm not jealous, Dear Heart," she asserts. "I'm admiring the effort you put into the way you look," she assures her. "You don't have to, I know it. You'd be perfect without a stitch of makeup or hairstyling, but you always look just so."

"No one is perfect," Elena answers softly.

Lori smiles. "You are."

Elena shakes her head in denial.

"No, I'm really not. Humans aren't perfect," she argues.

"They're not," she agrees. "But you are," Lori adds with a smile.

A chill runs down Elena's spine.

"I don't know what you mean," she says softly.

"You will," Lori tells her assuredly.

For a long, heart-pounding moment Elena stares at the older woman, trying to discern her intentions. Doppelgangers are human, everybody seemed to agree on that. Being a supernatural occurrence doesn't mean she isn't human; she's just an exact copy of another human – who was a copy of another and so on. But Lori seems so certain, and it scares Elena, what this woman seems to think she knows about her.

"Did you need something?" Elena asks at last.

"Just checking up on you, Darlin'," Lori explains without skipping a beat. "Making sure that young man is taking good care of you."

Elena nods. "He is," she says simply.

"That's good," Lori says. "Good men are hard to come by."

"He's just training me," Elena explains.

Lori raises a skeptical brow. "I'm sure."

"No really," Elena insists. "He is."

"Well, if you're right, that's makes him one of the ones that's even harder to come by."

"I am right," Elena says firmly. "He is good."

Lori still looks skeptical. "Just don't be surprised if someday it stops bein' trainin' and turns into somethin' else."

"It won't," Elena denies, heart pounding. Dean clearly sees her as a kid sister who needs to be protected, but even putting that aside, Elena can't betray John like that, deliberately ignoring what he wants for his son just because her feelings for his son might be a little more complicated than she'd like.

"If you say so, Sweet Pea," Lori replies, looking almost sad. "Just – come find me, if you need me," she adds.

"Dean would never do anything to me," Elena says hotly. "Dean would never let anything happen to me," she adds stoutly.

"I know it feels like that," Lori says sadly. "But Honey, he's a man, and you are a beautiful girl – that's the way of the world."

"Dean is different," Elena says, resolute.

"But you are what you are, and what you are is irresistible, Belle," Lori explains, patient despite Elena's obvious ire. "Especially to a hot-blooded man."

"Thank you for your kindness, Lori," Elena begins stiffly. "But I don't know you," she says plainly. "I do know Dean, though, and I trust him."

Even as she speaks she realizes she's right. Lori might think Dean is just like the soccer dad at the pizza parlor or the bus boy at the diner or Coach Tanner or any of the other men who have wanted her in the past, but Elena knows better. Dean is different.

"I hope you're right, for your own sake," Lori replies at last.

"I am," Elena says flatly.

"Hey Lori," Dean says as he comes back in. "Did you need something?"

"She was just checking on me," Elena replies for her. "But she can see I'm in good hands, so she's gonna go now."

Lori smiles at Dean. "Exactly that," she agrees. She gives Elena a respectful nod. "You know where to find me if you need me," she reminds her as departs.

"What was that about?" Dean asks.

Elena shakes her head. "Nothing you need to worry about." She smiles at him reassuringly. She knows him – she knows she's right about him and Lori is wrong and that's all that really matters.

"If you say so," Dean replies, clearly doubtful.

"I do," Elena says simply. "Back to work?" she prompts him.

"Back to work," he agrees.

---

"You know teaching me self-defense is gonna be a little hard if you always ask before you touch me," Elena teases Dean.

As much as she teases, it is one thing about him she finds impossibly charming, Dean is always aware of her personal space. It's ironic, truly, considering how often she imagines him touching her. In a way, she wants to break him of the habit, not just because of the thrill she feels every time she says yes – yes, he can touch her! – but because she wants so badly for him to be comfortable with her.

She is diligently stretching, just like she was taught to do before any physical activity. She's dressed for the occasion as well, in comfortable workout clothes that allow for a full range of motion. Dean is leaning against the wall of Matthew's home gym, dressed like Dean is always dressed, waiting for Elena to finish her warmup.

Dean snorts but nods in agreement. "How about I just ask if you're ready?" he proposes, watching her routine with confused amusement.

"Sounds good," Elena replies, standing up straight. Hands on her hips, she turns to face him, signaling a clear end to her warmup.

Dean pushes off the wall, walking over to stand in front of her.

"You ready?" he asks.

Elena takes a deep breath. "Ready," she confirms, dropping her arms to her side.

"Okay," he says, his tone entirely neutral.

He moves so fast she does not see him coming but she finds herself on her back with no idea how she got there.

He tries valiantly to not laugh at her shocked face. He offers her his hand, helping her to her feet.

"First lesson: you're never gonna be stronger or faster than your opponents – especially not as a hunter – so be on guard at all times."

She nods. "Right, the curse of being a woman," she says dryly.

He tilts his head sympathetically.

"Everyone's got a weakness, you just need to exploit it," he explains.

"That makes sense."

"You ready to go again?" he asks.

"That depends," Elena says. "Am I gonna end up on my ass immediately again?"

"Probably," he replies bluntly.

She sighs. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Turn around," he orders, twirling his finger in a circle.

She obeys, tensed.

He puts his arm around her neck, pulling her back into his chest.

"You're not gonna get this from a lot of the creatures we'll be hunting," he starts. "But this is a good way to demonstrate the weak spots on a person."

"Are you going to teach me to SING?" she quips.

"What?" he asks with a laugh.

"It's from Miss Congeniality," she explains. "It stands for Solar Plex, Instep, Nose, Groin."

He snorts. "I mean, that's the basics, so yeah."

She tilts her head back to look at him. "You've never seen that movie?"

"Is it a rom com?" he asks dryly.

"I mean technically," Elena admits. "But it's a classic!"

"Okay, well, if you can demonstrate what you learned from it, then maybe we'll watch it later."

"Do I have to actually hurt you?" she asks.

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

Elena slides her elbow back, tapping Dean's solar plex with it firmly but with not enough force to hurt, then she stepped on his foot, raising the heel of her hand to brush against his nose, then moving her elbow backwards to his lower stomach, causing him to release her.

"Not bad for a rom com," Dean says approvingly.

"It stars Sandra Bullock," Elena replies.

"Well, who doesn't love her," Dean admits.

"Exactly."

Dean examines her for a second, a calculating look in his eyes.

"So, let's talk about hands," he starts.

"Hands?" Elena asks, confused.

"More specifically, the easiest way to break fingers."

She grins in anticipation.

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 14, 2015

"Monsters, those monsters, pretend to be friends / Monsters, those monsters, hide under my bed..." -Thelma Plum, "Monsters"

Elena is walking across the motel parking lot just before dawn after her run when the man in a neighboring room steps outside for a cigarette. Elena feels her spine stiffen, but she does not slow her stride.

He leans against the railing, watching her progress with interest.

"Good run?" he asks as soon as she's within hearing distance.

"Yes," she says concisely.

"Any recs for where to go for a run?" he asks. "I just got in," he adds. "Business trip. I like to keep fit."

The way he glances at his room tells Elena everything she needs to know about his intentions, and it makes her sick.

"No," she replies, just shy of rude. She is tired and she wants to be out of the shower before Dean is awake.

"Yeah?" he asks, his tone full of affected disappointment.

She goes to unlock the door, but he steps closer.

"You in a hurry?" he asks.

"I don't like cigarettes," Elena says as an excuse.

"I'll put it out." He does so immediately, leaning against the door frame in front of her. "Maybe I could join you next time?"

Elena is thinking about what Dean taught her about how quickly fingers dislocate.

"I don't think my boyfriend would like that," Elena says clearly.

The man laughs derisively. "Please, if he was here you wouldn't be out running at 4 in the morning."

The door behind him opens abruptly, causing him to spring forward in order to not fall backwards.

Dean's face is chiseled from stone as he examines the man. Without speaking to him, he turns to address Elena.

"How was your run, Sweetheart?" he asks, his voice still gravely from sleep, making him sound even more intimidating.

He holds out an arm for her.

"Good," Elena answers, moving to step into his embrace.

He tucks her in against his side, kissing her hair. Elena tries to stay perfectly still, but she can't help but lean against him, just a little. She hopes he mistakes it for relief.

"That's good," he murmurs into her hair. "I know how cranky you get when you can't stretch your legs."

"They're stretched," she replies, trying to sound coy instead of dazed.

Without looking at the man, Dean slams the door in his face.

Elena sags against him a second before stepping away from him.

"Thank you," she says, her voice full of relief.

"Yeah, no problem," he replies, his voice tight with anger. "Go take your shower," he suggests.

She nods, grabbing her toiletries and disappearing into the bathroom quickly. For a moment she clutches her toiletries to her chest, feeling the way her heart pounds after the close encounter with the man and then being so close to Dean.

Feeling off-kilter, Elena begins to undress. She spends her entire shower trying to find some kind of center, some kind of calm about what happened.

She finds it in straightening her hair and fixing her face, making herself look like Elena Gilbert again.

When she exits the bathroom Dean is already dressed.

He hands her a butterfly knife. "You're gonna carry that from now on, okay?"

She nods. "Okay."

"Put it in your sock, when you're running," he instructs. "We'll go over how to use it when we get to Matthew's today."

While Dean takes his turn in the bathroom, Elena tucks the blade into the pocket of her jacket.

"Ready to go?" Dean asks a few minutes later as he re-enters the room.

"Yeah, let's go."

As they leave, Elena realizes the room beside them is already being cleaned by housekeeping. She gives Dean a questioning look.

"I suggested he find a new motel," he explains calmly.

---

At breakfast Elena's phone buzzes so many times it almost falls off the table.

Dean raises an eyebrow at her. "You gonna get that?" he asks.

"It's Caroline," she says by way of explanation, as she grabs her phone and puts it on silent.

"She's up this early on the weekend?" he asks.

"Cheer practice," she explains succinctly.

"I thought you guys did everything together."

Elena stills, remembering suddenly that Dean does not know she was a cheerleader. This feels like dangerous territory. In any other situation, Elena would flip her hair over her shoulder and tell him all about how she can still do the splits during a keg stand all by herself any time she wants. But this is Dean, so she smiles and shrugs.

"Why are you avoiding her?" Dean asks.

"I'm not," Elena counters.

He gives her a disbelieving look.

"I meant what I said in the hospital," she says finally.

"You can still have friends, Elena," Dean replies.

"I know," Elena says. "You're my friend."

"I'm your drill sergeant," he volleys back. "You and Caroline have been friends forever. I know…" he trails off, searching for the words. "Losing Matt was hard on you, but you shouldn't punish your friends for caring about you," is what he finally comes up with. "And from what I remember, Caroline cares about you quite a bit."

Elena sighs. "It's not just that," she insists. "It's…what if they get hurt because of me?" she asks finally. "It wouldn't be the first time," she explains. "And I just can't…I can't keep living like that." She catches her breath. "I can't keep being the bad thing in their lives," she says quietly.

"Nah, you couldn't be," he insists immediately. "You're the good stuff, Elena Gilbert."

She shakes her head. "You don't know, Dean," she reminds him. "I was the reason for so many bad things happening to them, it's my fault."

Dean studies her for a minute.

"You're right," he says finally. "I don't know, and since you're not gonna tell me, I can't really argue with you. But I think Caroline's making it clear she still wants you in her life."

Dean leaves her to marinate on that while he goes to the restroom.

Slowly, Elena opens the messages on her phone and starts to read Caroline's messages.

Elena, are you okay?

Please, just let me know you're still alive

I miss you

This isn't cool, Elena

I'm seriously worried about you

Bonnie is too

Just one text!

I'd take a stupid emoji at this point

Just let me know you didn't get offed by a hunter

Otherwise I'll have to track down John Winchester

And avenge you

And then his super hot son too

You're really gonna make me kill a guy that hot for you?

I would

I'd do anything for you, 'Lena

Just text me back

I seriously miss you

And I can't stop thinking about Matt

You're not alone

I have to start practice now, love you

Elena swallows around the lump in her throat, hoping none of the tears swimming in her eyes escape. She misses Caroline like a limb, and Bonnie the same, and Jeremy even worse – like a lung or her heart, something she can't live without. But worst of all is the thought of Matt, gone forever. If she allows herself even a moment to think about it she feels flayed, her nerves and muscle exposed and screaming in pain at the lightest of breaths.

She swallows again, blinking away her tears.

I'm fine

Love you

---

Later, after knife-handling lessons, Matthew comes to observe as Dean teaches Elena how to fire a shotgun.

"Don't be tense," Dean reminds her.

Elena takes a breath, trying to relax, but she can feel Matthew's eyes on her like they're laser pointed.

"Don't be scared of the recoil, just let it happen."

Elena nods once to let Dean know she heard him.

"Fire," he instructs.

She exhales and fires, hitting the bullseye.

"Good job," Dean says evenly.

Matthew snorts.

Dean rolls his eyes but does not acknowledge him.

"Next target," Dean says.

Elena complies, walking to the next target, Dean following behind, with Matthew trailing after them both.

"Take your stance."

Elena falls into the stance, settling her body into it easily, then letting her entire body relax into it.

"Aim," Dean says next.

Elena finds the bullseye.

"Pump and fire."

Elena shoots, hitting the bullseye again easily.

"Great," Dean says.

Matthew snorts loudly this time.

"Anything to add Matthew?" Dean asks this time.

"Hitting a target ain't impressive," Matthew says sourly.

"Maybe not, but we all gotta start somewhere," Dean answers neutrally.

"When she hits a shapeshifter, then I'll be impressed."

"Noted," Dean says dryly. "Now if you don't have anything useful to share, maybe you can let us get back to it."

Matthew harumphs at him but lazily strolls away.

"He really does not like me," Elena says once he's out of earshot.

"He doesn't know you," Dean counters. "Matthew is just set in his ways."

"He doesn't think women should hunt," Elena states.

"He doesn't think women should do a lot of things."

Elena makes a face.

Dean shakes his head. "You don't really get to pick who ends up in this life. The moments kinda just pick you. Hunters come from all walks of life, all different beliefs. Just focus on the common purpose, don't ask about the rest."

"I wouldn't ask him a thing," Elena replies airily.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Is that a southern insult?"

"You're getting better at recognizing them," she answers. "So, what was the moment that picked Matthew?" Elena asks.

"When he was 14 a skinwalker killed his mother." Dean glances at her. "Right in front of him and his dad," he continues. "His dad cracked, ended up in the loony bin, and Matthew picked up a gun and started huntin'."

"That's terrible," Elena says after a moment, her voice soft.

"I don't think it's any worse than what happened to your family or mine," Dean answers, seeing right through Elena's tender heart. "We've all had it rough, but I don't see you telling Matthew where he should stick all his shitty outdated opinions."

Elena shrugs.

"Lori will do it for me," she answers.

Dean laughs. "Yeah, that's for sure," he agrees.

He gestures at the next target. "Let's get back to work."

Elena nods. "Right, let's go."

They walk to the next target and Elena takes her stance, reminding herself to relax as she aims.

When Dean sees she is ready, he speaks.

"If you wanna pretend Matthew's the target, I won't tell."

Elena laughs.

---

A few hours later, Dean and Elena have another visitor in the form of Lori.

"How are y'all gettin' along?" Lori calls out to them as they approach.

"Just fine," Elena says before Dean can answer.

"Elena's doing great," he adds.

Lori smiles brightly at Elena. "That's great! I knew you'd be a natural."

"She's a quick study," Dean agrees, bemused by the way Lori ignores him in favor of Elena.

"Were you looking for Matthew?" Elena asks diplomatically. "It's been a few hours since we saw him."

"Matthew?" Lori asks, looking confused for a moment before her expression clears. "Right! Matthew." She shakes her head. "No, no, I wasn't lookin' for Matty. I was just checkin' on you." She smiles at Elena again. "Us girls have to stick together and all that."

Dean and Elena exchange confused looks.

"Right," Elena says. "Well, Dean is doing a great job of looking out for me," she says carefully.

Lori forces a smile. "That's great."

"I think so too," Elena says with calculated sweetness.

There is an awkward pause as Dean and Elena wait for Lori to leave and Lori waits for Elena to continue the conversation.

"Well, I am just so impressed with you, Honey," Lori says, continuing the conversation when she realizes Elena won't.

"Thank you," Elena says. "Matthew really isn't though," she adds dryly. "He clearly doesn't think I have what it takes."

"Matthew's an old fool." Lori jumps on the opportunity to continue the conversation eagerly. "He doesn't know what he's talking about, you're gonna be a great hunter."

Elena smiles politely at her praise.

"As her teacher, I agree," Dean says.

There is a long pause while Dean and Elena wait for Lori to get the hint and leave again. Again, Lori ignores it.

"Well, don't let me keep you," she says brightly. "Just go right on back to practice, I'll watch for a minute."

Elena looks at Dean.

"Actually, it's quittin' time," Dean says.

As confused as he is by Lori's behavior, he is firm about not letting Elena practice too long, less the recoil cause injury.

"Oh, well then," Lori says, clearly deflated by the news.

She watches as Elena automatically checks the shotgun barrel for bullets and finding none she puts it away in Dean's duffle. Meanwhile, Dean starts resetting the targets, putting up new bullseyes. After Elena is done putting away the guns they were using she joins him.

When they are done cleaning up after themselves, Lori is still there.

"We'll be going now," Dean says, shouldering his duffle.

Lori nods.

"Bye Elena," she says.

"Bye Lori," Elena says, grabbing her jacket.

Lori watches as they leave together, talking quietly between themselves.

"What was that about?" Dean asks, confused.

Elena, unwilling to tell him what Lori had said to her that day in the gym, about her not being about to trust any man, not even Dean, shrugs her shoulders.

"No idea," she lies.

"Well, hopefully she tells Matthew off again, so he'll stop ragging on you."

And just like that, Dean has moved on.

Elena nods in agreement. "That would be nice."

An uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. An idea niggles at the back of her mind, but she's not quite ready to face it, so she ignores it, following Dean to his car.

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 15, 2015

"Mortal one, you've been chosen / You're beautiful but you're broken / So hold onto this moment / To fight until you're hopeless…" -Kailee Morgue, "Medusa"

One night they are leaving Matthew's when Elena makes Dean pull over to the side of the road.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks in amusement as Elena drags him out of the car and onto the front hood.

It's been a particularly long and grueling day of training, and she has never felt further from herself than she does now and she's missing home in a strange way, and she just wants some small part of herself back, so she does the only thing she can think of; she looks to the stars.

"We are looking at the stars," she tells him firmly.

"You know, there's about a million things in those swamps that could kill us, and that's not including anything of the supernatural variety," Dean says.

"We won't stay long," Elena says, a pleading note in her voice. "I just, wanna look at the stars, and you can't see them in St. Augustine. Please, Dean. I really need this right now."

Dean looks at her in surprise, but he must see something in her face because he bites his tongue and turns his face upward to look at the stars.

"Tell me about them," he says finally.

"The stars?" she asks.

He nods. "Yeah, didn't you say you used to know all the stars?"

Now it is her turn to look surprised. "I was drunk," she replies.

"So?" he prompts.

"What do you wanna know?" she asks, stalling.

He points at the sky randomly. "What's that one?"

Elena follows his finger, raising her hand to trace the outline of the constellation in the air in front of her.

"This one?"

"Yeah," Dean says.

"Cassiopeia," she answers after a moment, the name coming back to her.

"Well, that's a mouthful," he replies, making her snort. "What about this one?" he asks.

Elena traces the air again, remembering doing the same thing in the backyard with her father and Jeremy.

"Perseus," Elena says, her voice feather soft.

"Jesus, poor guy," Dean says with a theatrical wince.

Elena stares at the sky, lost in the thought.

"Tell me about him," Dean requests finally. "Or the other guy, Casses' ass or whatever."

Elena cracks a grin, just like Dean intended. She rolls her eyes.

"Cassiopeia," she corrects him.

"Gesundheit," Dean replies in deadpan.

"Dumbass," Elena says with affection.

"So, tell me about them," he prods her again.

"Which one?" she asks.

"Both," he answers.

"They were related, actually," Elena says as the stories her father told her slowly come back to her.

"Yeah?" Dean prompts.

"She was his mother-in-law," she explains. "Perseus was a famous Greek hero, and Cassiopeia was the mother of Andromeda." Elena points out her constellation before continuing. "She claimed her daughter was more beautiful than Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love, so as punishment Andromeda had to be fed to the Kraken and Perseus rescued her."

"No shit?" Dean asks, surprised at how interesting he finds the story.

Elena nods wryly. "No shit. Perseus used the head of Medusa to turn the Kraken to stone, and then he married Andromeda. They lived happily ever after."

They sit without speaking for a moment, the sounds of the swamp life around them nearly deafening.

"Kinda fucked up that Andy was punished for some shit her mom said," Dean says finally.

Elena nods in agreement. "That's always how it goes though," Elena says. "You pay for things you have no control over."

"Like being beautiful," Dean says lightly.

"Right," Elena agrees.

"How did you deal with it for so long?" Dean asks. "I mean, it can't have been easy, if what I've seen this past week is any indication of how men treat you."

"Honestly?" Elena asks, voice catching in her throat. "I got a boyfriend," she confesses for the first time.

"Yeah, that seems to do the trick," Dean says with a sigh.

The silence is stretching again, but Elena shatters it with another confession.

"It was Matt," she says. "I can't remember if you knew that, but Matt was my first boyfriend," she explains. "We dated for three and a half years."

Dean is surprised. "No, I don't think you mentioned that. I always got the impression you were just friends."

"We started that way. We were best friends, actually," Elena says. "But when he asked me out in seventh grade…" she trails off. "He was safe, and I really, really liked being his friend," she says finally.

"Why did you breakup?" Dean asks.

"Because Matt wanted to get married and move in next door to my parents and I wanted to know what it felt like to actually be in love with someone and not just dating them because they asked," Elena answers, more honest than she's ever been.

"Did you get that?" Dean finally asks.

"I don't know," she confesses. "I thought I loved Stefan, but now…I really don't know."

She figures it's the truth, she doesn't know if she loved Stefan anymore, and unrequited love doesn't count. Dean doesn't count.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" she asks.

"No," Dean answers without hesitation. "I think it's okay to date your best friend because he asked, and I think it's okay to breakup with him because you want different things."

"But I dated Matt because having a boyfriend was safer," she reminds him. "I used him."

"But you just said you really, really liked him," he reminds her.

"I did," she agrees.

"So, I don't think it matters if it also made you safe," he says. He hesitates, then takes the plunge. "Even if it did, I think anything you did just to survive doesn't make you bad, just human."

She sits beside him, staring at the stars and absorbing his words.

"I really miss him," she finally says.

"Of course you do," Dean answers. "He was your friend."

Elena swallows around the lump in her throat.

There is a rustling noise from the edge of the swamp, like something is moving nearby.

"Hey Elena?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go before a gator tries to eat us?"

Elena laughs.

"Yeah, let's go."

They climb off the back of the car and get back inside. Dean starts the car and gets back onto the road, heading back to their motel.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Listening to me bitch and moan."

"Anytime."

---

Later that night Elena is running on the beach. She's grown bolder the longer they've been there, and in particular since Dean gave her the knife. It felt weird and bulky in her sock at first, but now she finds its bulk comforting. The beach is by her favorite place to run, the shifting sand beneath her shoes provides a nice change from the unforgiving pavement, and the sound of the ocean is unlike any other. It sounds so different from the lake where she drowned, and the sound takes her to another place far from the things that keep her awake and running every night.

The beach she's taken to running on has been empty except for her every night so far, and it's so long she's yet to run the entire length, providing a great relief for her wandering mind and restless feet.

Tonight, she is ruminating on Matt and how she can never take back the fact that she used him for safety. She wants to take comfort in Dean's words, to believe that it mattered that she really liked him, but she's not sure it's enough when he loved her like he did. Elena has always loved hard but now she's wondering if maybe people will always love her more than she loves them.

There's been a lot of talk of her loving heart, but Elena is beginning to suspect it is colder than anyone knows, that she might be like Katherine after all. The kind of girl you love so much it makes you sorry.

She's starting to sink too far into her dark thoughts and too far down into the sand when she catches sight of a white figure on the shoreline.

"Elena is that you?" she calls.

"Hi Lori," Elena calls back, deeply uneasy.

As she approaches, she realizes Lori is not dressed in her uniform of Matthew's clothes, but in a white silk slip dress. For some reason, this makes the skin on the back of Elena's neck prickle.

"What are you doing out here, Sweetheart?" Lori asks when Elena is right in front of her.

"I like to run," Elena says simply.

"You do, do you?" Lori looks bemused.

Elena nods.

"I never really got that whole exercise craze," Lori confesses.

"It helps me clear my head," Elena answers her unasked question.

"Got a lot on your mind, huh?" Lori prompts.

Elena shrugs. Talking to Dean is one thing, but as kind as Lori has been to her, she is still a stranger, and one she won't be seeing again anytime soon, once she's done training and they leave.

"What are you doing out here?" Elena asks, ignoring Lori's prompting.

Lori smiles. "I like a little early morning swim," she says coyly.

She toys with the strap of dress absentmindedly, dipping it low enough to let Elena know there isn't anything under her dress.

Elena looks out at the dark water tactfully.

"Matthew doesn't like to go with you?" she asks, amused at the idea of crotchety Matthew at the beach going for a midnight skinny dip.

"Honey, Matthew don't like much of anything," Lori says plainly.

"Why do you stay with him?" Elena asks.

Lori shrugs. "I was so tired when I met him," she says finally. "It was easy." She looks at Elena. "I didn't have to do any of the work, so I just stayed and let him have his way."

"Are you still tired?" Elena finds herself asking.

Lori examines her face with a deep, unreadable expression on her face.

"No, Belle, I'm not tired anymore."

"You should leave him," Elena says flatly. "Don't stay just because it's easy. You deserve better."

"Sounds like you know a thing or two about settling," Lori says leadingly.

Elena doesn't respond.

Lori makes a little noise in the back of her throat, of frustration or sadness or irritation, Elena isn't sure.

"Well," Lori says finally. "It's time for my swim." She reaches for the straps of her dress, sliding them off her shoulders. "Care to join me?"

Elena looks away from her nakedness. It's not like Elena's never seen a naked woman before, but this is unexpected, and Elena doesn't quite understand what is happening.

"No thank you," she says politely. "I'm going to finish my run," she tells her. "Enjoy your swim."

Elena is flying across the beach back the way she came because Lori can reply.

"Until next time, Belle," Lori says before she slips into the gentle waves.

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 16, 2015

"What were you thinking when you thought you could touch me? / I know you don't think it's wrong if you don't break the skin / But if I want to touch, I'll ask for it..." -Mothica, "No One"

Dean and Elena are seeing the new James Bond movie in theaters. They're standing in the concessions line debating Red Vines versus Twizzlers when it happens.

Elena is arguing vehemently on behalf of Red Vines while Dean is insisting they taste like wax when she suddenly feels a hand slide down her back and cup her ass.

Red hot rage spreads through her body, and without thinking she immediately sends her elbow backwards into his solar plex, hard.

"Fuck!" he gasps as she knocks the wind out of him.

His friends beside him yell in shock and people are scattering but Elena is solely focused on her opponent.

Elena grabs his wrist, digging her nails the tendons there as she forces his arm behind his back.

"Don't. Touch. Me," she enunciates carefully.

"What the fuck, you psycho!" he yells. "Let me go, Bitch."

"As soon as you apologize," Elena says flatly.

"Fuck you, I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You grabbed my ass." Elena is firm and unrelenting.

"You're gonna break my arm, Psycho Freak!"

Elena rolls her eyes, exasperated. "You're fine, just apologize."

"He didn't do anything!" One of his friends yells.

"Someone call the cops on this bitch," another one chimes in.

The line has scattered, people whispering amongst themselves as they watch. Dean, for his part, has simply stepped out of the way, letting Elena handle this herself.

"Tell your girl to get the fuck off my friend," says one of his friends to Dean.

"No," Dean says matter of factly. "If she says he touched her then he did."

"It's her fault for looking so slutty," says the first friend.

"I thought you said he didn't do anything," Dean points out. "And she's covered from neck to toe," he adds. "She's wearing more clothes than I am, for fuck's sake.."

An anxious employee approaches, looking alarmed.

"Um, should I call the cops?" he asks timidly.

"Nah, I think as soon as he apologizes she'll let him go," Dean says nonchalantly.

"What exactly happened?" the teenager asks, gaining some confidence.

"He grabbed my ass," Elena says flatly. She's dangerously close to seeing red.

"Okay, um, yeah, that's assault," the teen agrees. "Sir, I think you should leave." He looks at Elena. "If you let him go I'll make sure he leaves."

Something in Elena that has smoldered for too long is raging.

"When he apologizes," Elena says again.

"Fuck you!" he screams. "You shouldn't look like that if you don't want attention."

"I didn't choose to look like this," she tells him. Absentmindedly she notices her fingers are trembling in rage, fingernails sinking deeper into his skin.

"Yo, get your girl!" the second friend howls at Dean.

"Nah, she's got this," Dean is still utterly calm.

"Just tell her to let me go," the man yells at Dean.

"She's already told you what you need to do to get her to let you go." Dean is unrelenting.

"Fine, I'm sorry you're not that hot anyway, you washed up old hag!" the man shrieks.

Dean snorts. "She's eighteen," he says, loud enough for everyone to hear.

A murmur of disgust ripples through the crowd, the court of public opinion turning in favor of Elena with Dean's revelation of her youth.

Elena's fingers tighten around his wrist, but she shoves him down hard, releasing him only inches before the ground. He doesn't quite face plant, but he does roll onto his back.

He glares furiously at Elena who stares impassively back at him. She feels Dean step up closer to her, physically showing that he has her back.

The teenage employee speaks up again.

"You and your friends need to leave or I'm calling mall security who will call the police," he informs them, trying to sound as firm as Elena.

With one last glare the man and his friends depart.

"You good, Elena?" Dean asks.

She nods, heart pounding.

"You up for a movie, still?"

"As long as you're all right with us staying," Elena says to the boy.

He nods. "As far as I'm concerned, you did nothing wrong," he says, then adding, "And I know my boss would agree with me. She's gonna be disappointed she wasn't here to see you kick his ass."

Elena laughs.

"We still have time to get concessions before the movie," Dean says, gesturing to the line that has reformed.

"It's on the house," the boy pipes up. "I insist."

"What's your name?" Elena asks him.

"Dylan, Miss," he answers.

"Dylan, do you have Red Vines or Twizzlers?" she asks.

He sighs. "Twizzlers, unfortunately."

Elena looks at Dean, triumphant, who just laughs. Darren heads back to his place behind the counter. When they step back into the line, Dean presses a hand to Elena's elbow.

"Good job, Mina," he says low in her ear, making her shiver.

He straightens up to give her a wink.

She smiles at him fondly. "Thanks, I had a helluva teacher, Quincey."

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 17, 2015

"Shaped a figure eight, who trusts pretty girls anyway?" -SZA, "Babylon"

Elena wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, literally. She is sprawled across Dean's chest, one leg hooked over his, and worst of all, his arms are wrapped securely around her waist. Dean is still fast asleep, and Elena is dangerously close to crying. She is far too comfortable in his arms, and it feels so good it crosses her mind to lay her head down on his chest and listen to his slow, steady heartbeat until she falls back asleep. But Elena isn't about pleasant lies anymore, only harsh realities. The cruel truth is that he is not hers, and she couldn't have him even if he wanted her back.

Slowly, she extracts herself, moving carefully, praying she won't wake him. Someone must be on her side for once, because for the first time, Dean does not stir as she climbs out of the bed and into her running shoes.

This time she runs so hard and so long that she pukes; an unpleasant surprise as she's never puked once in her life. She's had the constitution of sailor since birth, and she's never had enough to drink to have a hangover, let alone puke. A feat unto itself, considering how much she's had to drink. Now she's starting to wonder if it's a doppelganger thing.

Mouth still sour with vomit, she finds Dean is already awake when she gets back.

"Oh, hi," she says, surprised and off-kilter to see him. She'd still been contemplating the meaning behind her puking and thinking only of her shower and her morning rituals, it feels wrong for him to be awake, but of course she'd ran at least five more miles than usual.

"Good morning," Dean says. "You have a good run?"

She nods, feeling strangely self-conscious in her shorts and tank top. She can't stop thinking what it felt like to have his arms wrapped around her, being chest to chest with him.

"You ran for a long time today," Dean comments.

"I wanted to make it to the end of the beach," she says, grabbing the excuse hastily with both hands. "I haven't done that yet," she explains.

He nods. "Well, hurry up and shower, I'm hungry."

"I'll be quick," she promises, feeling uneasy as she grabs her things and heads for the shower. Between her hair and makeup, she'll be in there for an hour at the least – something has to go. In the shower she scrubs her hair vigorously, contemplating her next move.

She hasn't let her hair dry naturally without extenuating circumstances for five years – circumstances like Damon unexpectedly throwing her into the river as punishment for trying to save Stefan without him.

When she gets out of the shower, she braids her hair as tightly as she can, despite it still being wet. For a long moment she stares at her bare face. She knows she's pretty without it, it's not that. It's just that she doesn't show her face to just anyone. If it was just Dean, that would be one thing, but the whole diner would see her barefaced, and then Matthew and Lori if they decided to make an appearance during training.

Sighing, she pulls on her pants.

"Suck it up, Elena," she mutters to herself. "You're a big girl, you can handle being in public without your face on."

---

Elena is just starting to get the hang of moving targets, her shots hitting closer and close to the kill shot.

"You learn quick," Dean observes.

"I'm focused," Elena says, demurring.

"And so modest," he adds teasingly.

She shrugs. She's less self-conscious about her bare face and natural hair, all these hours later. She's barely thought of it all since Dean handed her a gun and told her they'd be working on moving targets again.

"How long before your dad lets me do anything on a hunt?" she asks.

"Awhile," Dean answers with a wince. "He'll probably let you start helping with research soon, but he's gotta be sure you won't freeze in the line of duty."

"I've been attacked by monsters before, Dean," Elena reminds him tensely.

"Yeah, I remember," he assures her. "You'll probably do all right, but Dad's gonna want to be sure," he explains. "There's no room for error on a hunt," he adds.

"Right," Elena says with a sigh, understanding what he means.

"Go again," Dean gestures.

Elena takes aim, waiting for the target to move. She shoots, hitting it again.

"Good job," he says.

"Praise her all you want, boy, it won't get you in her panties," Matthew advises from behind them. He is swaying, a bottle gripped in his fist as he leers at them drunkenly.

Elena stiffens and watches the way disgust ripples across Dean's face.

"Well, Matthew, that's not really my goal," Dean says, trying to keep calm.

Matthew snorts. "Sure, it isn't." He sneers. "Keep telling yourself that."

He glares at Elena.

"Won't matter anyway," he continues. "She's a dyke," he informs Dean flatly.

Dean, confused, replies, "All right, well, that's her business." He gestures to himself. "I'm just here to train her."

"Don't believe any sweet thing she says to you," Matthew continues on with his train of thought, ignoring everything Dean said. "She's just munching carpet when you aren't looking."

"Matthew, I think it's time for you to go," Dean says firmly.

"She's not even trying to look pretty for you anymore," Matthew says, undeterred. "That's how you know they ain't care anymore; they stop wearing makeup and doing their hair right."

"Elena doesn't need to do her makeup or hair to impress me," Dean says patiently, clearly confused by Matthew's rants. "She's just gotta hit the targets."

Matthew throws back a drink from his bottle of whiskey.

"Stop playing games with this man, Girlie," he addresses Elena. "Everyone knows you're a dyke, quit hidin' behind your Southern Belle manners and pretty face, you don't fool me."

Elena exhales, impatient. "I'm not hiding, and I'm not playing," she says slowly. "I am just here to train."

Matthew throws up his fist wrapped around the bottle, pointing at her. "Bullshit," he calls. "You're a fucking liar. You couldn't care less about training. You're just after pussy."

"Matthew, do you want us to go?" Dean asks directly, losing his patience. "I can find another place to train her if you're gonna keep heckling her."

Matthew sneers but waves a dismissive hand at him. With one last parting shot, he hobbles away.

"I got my eyes on you, Delilah."

There is silence between them as they watch him teeter and sway his way back to the house.

"Well, I guess that answers my question about skipping out on makeup this morning," Elena says wryly.

Dean snorts. "You like fine, Elena," he assures her. "Don't listen to him, he's got some weird old-fashioned ideas, that's all."

She nods. "Right, a woman isn't a woman without her face."

Dean looks her in the eye. "I'm looking at your face, Elena. You look fine."

Elena looks away, unsure how to reply. "Next target?" she asks finally.

"Go ahead," Dean answers.

---

"Why do you usually wear makeup even when we're training?" Dean asks suddenly.

They're eating dinner at the diner and he's stealing her fries when he drops this loaded question.

She looks up at him, confused by his sudden change in topic.

"I mean, you look perfect without it," he continues warily. "And it takes forever, I'd bet. So why bother?"

She laughs. "You really don't know anything about women, do you?"

He shrugs good-naturedly. "It's not like there were many of 'em around when I was growing up," he points out. "So why don't you lend me some of your wisdom on the business of prettying yourself up."

"Girls don't just wear makeup to look pretty," she answers automatically.

He gives her a look, knowing that isn't really her answer.

So, Elena eats a fry and considers how to answer the question.

"I guess it's kind of like armor," she says finally. "My mom taught me how to put on my face, and at some point that act was like a way to get ready to go out into the world and deal with it."

Dean absorbs her words for a moment. "It being the way people react to you?" he asks.

She nods. "Yeah, that," she says curtly.

"And that's it, you're just arming yourself for what you're dealing with?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Sometimes it's because I want to feel pretty, and makeup is fun. Sometimes it's just that the process is soothing." She hesitates.

"And it's like, I guess sometimes, it's like I'm standing in front of the mirror, hair straight, makeup done, and I look just like Elena Gilbert." Katherine's perfect curls and dark eyes cross her mind. "I look like nothing's changed."

Dean's expression has softened into something unbearable, so Elena slurps down her milkshake, refusing to see him look at her like that – she doesn't have time for the kind of butterflies he gives her.

"Right," he says. "I get that."

She looks up at him instinctively. "Yeah?" she asks, voice soft.

He nods. "Yeah. Sometimes I uh, I play these old tapes when I'm alone in the car, and I pretend I'm just a kid again, on my way to pick up Sammy from school. He was there when I bought and made a lot of those tapes, so it's easier to pretend he's still in my life that way."

Elena looks at him, eyes shining in empathy, and he stares back at her helplessly, deeply uncomfortable with his own honesty, but unable to help himself. There's just something about Elena Gilbert, it's impossible not to tell her things.

"I should call Jeremy tonight," she says finally.

"Yeah, you should," he agrees.

Dean gets up to go pay the bill, but she stops him.

"Hey," she says. "I know he had his reasons, but your brother is really missing out having you in his life."

He smiles at her fondly then leaves to go up to the counter and ask for the bill.

Elena knows she should've said more, should've led him down the obvious road and pretended he's some kind of older brother figure to her, but she just can't. She knows it's hopeless, she knows she should lie for all she's worth, but she cannot bring herself to lie like that.

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 18, 2015

"I know I made you the big star / I let you butcher my big heart / But it's my song and my stage / And it's my coming of age..." -Maisie Peters, "Coming of Age"

The objective of any sparring session Dean tells her, is to pull a weapon on the other person. At first Elena was too horrified to ever even reach for one, purely going on the defense, trying to make sure Dean has no time to pull a knife on her.

It doesn't work, Dean is always faster and more ruthless than she is. So, for the most part, Elena just tries not to make a total fool of herself. So far she's been content with strategy. Do her best but don't expect to win.

Only today Elena woke up with Matt's death playing on repeat in her mind, and Matthew's voice has been echoing in her head for days – since she met him, if she's honest. She keeps remembering the quick hot rage she felt when that slimeball at the movie theater touched her. It's like a levee has broken inside of her, and all the things she avoids thinking about are pouring out into the open, allowed to breathe for the first time in years, and she is so full of rage she's not sure what else to do with it.

She tried to run it out, but there simply wasn't enough time. She did an admirable job of channeling it into target practice, picturing every target as a cause for her rage and pain. But now it is time to spar, and Elena finds the rage has not been quenched, it's still breathing and seething inside of her.

Dean has gotten the jump on her, but Elena does not find satisfaction or defeat when she kisses the matt, surrendering to his blade again and again, not like usual. Instead, she finds herself a seething, kinetic ball of rage.

While Dean wins again, Elena finds herself plotting in her head.

"You can't be afraid to hurt me, Elena," he chides her as he helps her to her feet again.

"I know," she replies automatically, taking her stance.

He eyes her critically, seeing that she is ready.

"Again?" he asks anyway.

She nods. "Again."

Dean moves, going in the opposite direction than she expected. Elena barely manages to dodge him, ending up on the other side of him.

"You're getting quicker," he says approvingly.

Elena just smiles, dodging out of his way and behind his back without reply. Dean twists, his hand going down to the knife on the holster of his jeans, just like Elena hoped he would.

He brings the knife up, dull edge pointed towards her. Elena knocks his elbow with her right hand, causing him to fumble the blade. Without hesitation, Elena reaches out with her left hand, feeling the edge of the blade along her pointer finger, Elena doesn't flinch, sandwiching the blade between her fingers, neatly flipping it so she grasps the handle, blade pointing at Dean's throat.

Dean stares at her for a moment, eyes wide.

"Holy shit, you're bleeding," he says. "Holy fuck, you won."

"I am?" she asks, startled. "I did?"

He nods, taking the knife from her, quickly re-holstering it with one hand while he takes her hand in his with the other.

"That was ridiculously fucking cool," he tells her, clearly impressed. "But yeah, you're gonna need stitches."

Elena winces as Dean wraps his shirt around her hand.

"Ow," she says, still shocked by her injury and her win.

"You don't gotta go that far to win, but I am impressed," Dean tells her. "Now let's get you to the hospital."

"I didn't mean to cut myself, it just happened so fast," she says, breathless and a little woozy.

He nods. "That's usually how it goes."

---

St. Augustine, Florida: November 19, 2015

"I am the sun / You know you need me / And you might get burned / If you take too much…" – Bahari, "Savage"

Elena's midnight run starts out like normal. She startles awake from a nightmare at 2:45 AM and by 3 she is on the road, feet pounding into the unforgiving pavement as she heads for the beach again. Something about the way the air feels lighter there keeps bringing her back.

She smells the salt of the sea and hears the dull rumble of the ocean for at least a block before it comes into view. When the smooth, black surface of the calm water contrasted by the pale sickle of beach comes into view she feels something in her relax.

Everything is still smooth sailing for the first mile of the beach. It's around then that Elena notices a figure moving in the distance. Slowing her pace, Elena peers anxiously out at the figure as it paces back and forth. Taking a deep breath, Elena picks up speed until she is at her regular pace again, surging forward bravely.

The closer she gets the more familiar the figure becomes until Elena is sure she knows them.

Elena stops about twenty feet away, the woman still pacing agitatedly.

"Lori?" Elena calls her name hesitantly.

It hits her suddenly that this is the first time she's seen the older woman since that night on the beach. This time Lori is dressed in her usual clothes, jeans and a shirt that surely belongs to Matthew.

Lori stops at the sound of Elena's voice, turning to her with a wild look on her face. At the sheer force of the emotion on her face, Elena steps back. It is a wild, all-consuming hope on her face, and Elena can't even begin to guess where it is coming from.

"I do not understand," Lori tells Elena as she begins to walk towards her. "I have done everything I can think to, and I just do not understand, Elena."

In her agitation, her voice has changed. She no longer has the sweet drawl of a southern woman that Elena has always found comforting. It was the voice of her mother, and her grandmother, of the woman who taught her piano for years and her grandmother who took over for her after Mr. Crawford's obsession with her veered wildly out of control.

For some reason, more than anything, it is the change in Lori's voice that sets Elena on edge. She sounds foreign, like she isn't even American, let alone Southern.

"You don't understand what?" Elena asks carefully.

Lori looks her dead in the eye as she replies, "Why you don't love me, Elena."

Elena reels back like Lori has struck her.

"What?" she asks finally, voice full of confused incredulity.

Lori shakes her head, resuming her pacing, only a few feet away from Elena now.

"It's never been this hard before," she says, more to herself than Elena. "I have never had to work this hard for someone's affection, let alone their attention. But it's like I don't even exist to you."

She throws Elena a look of pure agony as she paces.

"I had Matthew in a minute, and I was barely trying. I put everything I have into winning your heart and all you do is train and run and hang off that hunter like he hung the moon and stars just for you."

Elena feels a million miles behind her.

"You love me?" she asks, uncomprehending.

Lori surges forward, taking Elena's face in her hands, staring at her hungrily.

"I worship you," she says.

Lori's hands are shockingly cold against Elena's skin as she stares into the older woman's eyes, trying to make sense of what she is saying.

"You don't even know me," Elena says finally, dazed and confused by Lori's fervency.

Lori drops her forehead down to press her forehead to Elena's.

"I know you," she assures her fervently. "I know you're so beautiful it hurts to look at you, but it hurts more to be you. I know you can't go anywhere without feeling hunted and wanted. I know you hide behind your hunter and other men you deem safe because you think it's the only way to make that feeling stop."

Lori shakes her head, hands still wrapped possessively around Elena's face, forehead to forehead with her.

"It is not though. You can make them feel hunted instead. You haven't realized this yet, but they should be much more afraid of you than you are of them."

Lorelei shakes her head, an expression of wonder on her face.

"You have no idea what you could do to them, but I could show you," she offers. "You are tired like I was before I met you, but I can make you braver. I can teach you much better than that hunter you sully yourself with," she says scornfully.

"Dean is my friend," Elena says. "And I don't want to make them feel hunted."

Lori smiles scornfully at her. "Liar," she pronounces her.

There's no hiding it now, Lori's accent is clearly Germanic in origin.

"You will let him make you a hunter so you can kill others like me, but you won't even consider that we are not the ones who made you feel unsafe all your life."

"What are you?" Elena asks.

Lori says nothing, just grips her face tighter, stroking her nose against Elena's, like she means to kiss her. Elena flinches and Lori sighs, lifting her face away from Elena's, while still maintaining her grip.

Lori searches her face desperately, still saying nothing, so Elena tries again.

"Lori, what are you?" Elena asks in a clear, strong voice.

"Lorelei," she corrects her. "I am Lorelei." She smiles bitterly. "Surely, you know my story."

Elena stares at her, confused. "I'm sorry, I don't know it," she says finally.

Lorelei shrugs indifferently. "They don't tell it right, anyway."

She examines Elena critically. "Maybe I should show you." She looks hopeful. "Maybe you will understand once you see."

"Once I see what?" Elena finds herself asking.

"That I can be anything you want me to be," she explains. "Anyone at all."

Finally, she releases Elena's face and steps away. It happens in the blink of an eye, one moment Lori is standing in front of her, and then Elena blinks and she is someone else. Elena's stomach turns as she takes in the curvy figure, her honey brown curls, sparkling hazel eyes, and the unmistakable Mystic Falls Timberwolves cheerleader uniform.

"Did I get it right?" she asks softly. "Was it really Lucy all along?" She blinks those eyes at Elena, and she has to look away.

"I know it's not exactly identical, but it's close enough, right?" she asks, deadly serious. "Or maybe it's not Lucy Kenneth on your mind," she continues. "Maybe you want someone a little…needier."

Against her will, Elena looks back and nearly jumps out of her skin. This time the figure before her is tall and blonde, resplendent in shining green satin, nose adorably freckled as she smiles at her.

"She's a bit much for me," Lorelei says. "But if Caroline Forbes is what you want, I can be her too."

Elena is shaking now. "How are you doing that?" she croaks.

Lorelei shrugs her bare shoulders. "It's as easy as breathing," she says. She holds out a finger. "Wait, maybe what you want is a do-over?"

The pleading green eyes of Elena's most recent ex-boyfriend stares back at her – or at least a frighteningly good approximation.

"Do you want to see how good I can make Stefan Salvatore?" Lorelei asks in his familiar measured tones. "Because Christ, I'd be a step up from the original. I'd do everything you say."

Elena feels bile surge in her throat.

"Or maybe you want someone a little bit wilder?" she guesses.

Suddenly icy blue eyes stare out at her, framed by shaggy black hair.

"The other brother," Lorelei proposes. "I could do that for you too. That's how much I love you. I can be anything you want."

She holds out her hand, telling Elena to wait.

"Or maybe you want someone much, much wilder," she intones.

This change makes Elena's knees go weak and she doesn't know if she's ever been more afraid in her life.

She takes in the burnished gold of his curls, the stormy blue of his eyes, that curling, devilish red mouth.

"No," Elena whispers.

"Not Niklaus?" Lorelei asks, mildly surprised. "All right, I do agree, he is a bit much – but you should feel the way he pines for his pretty Petrova."

She examines Elena, taking in her fear and confusion.

"How do you know all of this?" Elena asks. "I didn't, I didn't tell Dean any of this," she says firmly.

Lorelei shrugs the broad shoulders of Klaus' lookalike. "I'm in the business of lust," she replies simply. "And I think I know what you need, Sweetheart."

Elena closes her eyes. Lorelei even has Klaus' affected accent.

"Nostalgia always wins the day," Lorelei says in a voice that finally makes Elena's knees give out from under her.

She is so afraid to open her eyes, but she finds herself doing it anyway, taking in his dear face. The firm, strong jaw, the short dirty blond hair, his impossibly blue eyes.

"Stop it," Elena whispers.

"Not Matt Donovan?" Lorelei sounds sympathetic. "I understand, I know you told that boy you weren't sure if you ever loved him, but I know how much you miss him." She holds out his arms to her. "We can pretend, for a little while, if it'll make you happy."

Elena closes her eyes tightly, feeling the tears finally begin to flow. So, Lori had been there, in the swamp, listening while Elena told Dean about using Matt to protect herself.

"Oh Honey, I am so sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to reopen fresh wounds. You know what? I've got a better idea. How about something new. Nostalgia might not be the trick for a bleeding heart like you, but novelty?" Her voice changes again, this time coming out deep and comforting, drawing a shiver down Elena's spine. "That could be just the game."

"Open your eyes, Mina," she says.

Unwillingly, Elena finds her eyes fluttering open. She was good with the details. She got the freckles on his nose and the dimple in his lower lip, the complex layers of green and gold in his eyes – it's all right, but so, so wrong.

Lorelei takes in Elena's reaction to her with deep satisfaction.

"It has occurred to me," she says. "That you're so adamant that Dean won't take advantage of you because you want him." She cocks his head to the side, smirking charmingly at her. "I'm glad to know I'm right."

"You're a cheap fucking copy," Elena spits out bluntly, making her flinch. "I don't fuck cheap fucking copies." She smiles bitterly at her. "I'm sure you know why."

Lorelei looks wounded.

"Do you really think he's gonna give you half of what I could?" Lorelei asks coldly.

"I don't want anything from you," Elena says clearly.

"You're so cruel to me," Lorelei whispers. "I should've known, you're all like that, really. You're so warm and entrancing, but underneath all that allure, you're cold as ice."

Elena shrugs. "Maybe I am," she admits freely. "I don't really know anymore. But I don't want you, and your feelings aren't my problem." Her mouth quirks up at the corner. "Dean's the first person who ever told me that; that I don't have to be responsible for the way other people feel about me."

Lorelei is starting to shake. "If you were anyone else I could make you love me," she says lowly.

"How?" Elena asks. "You haven't really explained anything to me, just changed into a bunch of cheap copies of people I know."

"I'm like you too," Lorelei says, dazed as she stares at her. "I can pull people into my orbit, I can make them want me, I can make them crazy with wanting me."

"But you can't do it to me," Elena states.

Lorelei nods, looking heartbroken. "I shouldn't even try." She is still staring hard at Elena, like she is a puzzle she is trying to solve. "I know that. But you're like the fucking sun."

Lorelei takes a step closer to Elena.

"What's Jupiter to the Sun?" she asks. "I'm already in your orbit. I can't sway you, I know it," she repeats. "But I have to try," she says firmly.

Elena takes a stumbling step back, away from her.

Lorelei seems to prepare herself, throwing back her shoulders, and something about her stance makes her feel like an arrow aimed at Elena. There is a moment where it seems like something might happen, but then everything goes wrong.

Suddenly the whites of those green eyes, so like Dean's, turn red with blood, and then blood is leaking from them, streaming down Lorelei's face. Blood begins to pour from every orifice: mouth, nose, ears.

Lorelei lets out a shriek like a siren, and then Dean hits her with his car.

---

On The Road

"She was a siren all along?" Elena asks.

"That's right," Dean confirms. "She had her hooks in Matthew, she was playing some kind of twisted game with him."

"She said she was tired," Elena says on rote.

"Well, that's one way to take a vacation," Dean replies with a snort.

Elena can't help it, she laughs.

"How did Matthew die?" she asks after a moment, sobering up.

"A knife to the heart," Dean answers. "She took particular offense to him calling you a…" he trails off. "Well, you know."

While Elena was running on the beach and having her bizarre encounter with Lorelei, Dean was listening to a voicemail left for him by Matthew, recorded in his final moments as Lorelei murdered him in a fit of rage over his treatment of Elena.

The sun is fully risen, and they have been driving for hours. Dean is determined they will be long gone by the time the cops come sniffing around. They dumped Lorelei's body deep in the swamps.

"Was she supposed to look like me?" Dean asks suddenly.

Elena's heart thuds as she answers, "She tried to look like a lot of people, Dean."

He glances at her then back to the road.

"Yeah?"

She nods. "It was like she couldn't figure out what I wanted so she just kept changing. It was creepy how many people in my life she knew about." She shudders.

"Yeah, they can do that," Dean says. "Supposedly it's all wrapped up in the desires of their victims, but I guess things didn't go like normal with you, did they?" He glances at her curiously.

Elena shrugs. "I've learned I'm not as normal as I thought I was," she answers evasively.

"Yeah?"

Dean seems to know he shouldn't ask, but he keeps leaving room for her to say more.

She smiles wryly at him. "Well, sure, it's not like I ever imagined I'd be dumping a body in a swamp at 4 in the morning."

Dean snorts. "First body disposal is always the toughest."

"You gonna buy me a drink to celebrate?" Elena teases him.

"Fuck no." He grins at her. "Not when I know you can get 'em for free."

She laughs.

There is a moment of comfortable silence.

"What did she say again?" he asks. "About gravity?"

Elena squirms. She slipped up, she was so in shock when Dean first appeared, she babbled a bit, letting things spill that she shouldn't.

"What's Jupiter compared to the Sun?" Elena quotes unwillingly.

Dean contemplates the meaning for a long moment.

"Weird," Dean replies finally.

"You're telling me," Elena says with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest.

"All right, let's find somewhere to pass out for the day," Dean says. "My ankle is killing me."

"I can't believe you sprinted across that parking lot barefooted," Elena answers.

"That's the job," Dean replies. "Though usually the monsters don't die of their own longing," he adds, still confused.

That Dean had been so determined to save her was sweet on its own, but there is something unbearably human about him spraining his ankle on his way to rescue her. Elena has grown too used to the kind of invincible savior vampires make. It is scary to know Dean is so human, just as it touches something inside of her at the same time, to know they are the same.

"How's your hand doing?" he asks.

"It's fine, it only hurts if I hit it," she replies. "It's gonna be such a cool scar," she adds giddily, making him laugh.

Elena points at a sign for a motel so Dean gets onto the exit.

He hesitates. "You should probably call my dad while I check us in," he tells her. "I think he's gonna wanna hear about whatever the hell that was with the siren."

Elena nods in reluctant agreement, already anticipating John's ire at her spilling about what the siren said.

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Elena?"

Elena looks over at him expectantly.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

She nods carefully.

"You also know you don't have to tell me anything, either?"

She studies him, so careful with her, so considerate of her and her secrets and promises.

"Thanks, Dean," she says finally.

---

Jacksonville, Florida

"I am the one I've been waiting for…" – Halestorm, "I Am The Fire"

Elena wakes up on her stomach in bed around noon. As the dim room comes into focus, the memories of the night before come flooding back to her. She turns her head, burying her face in her pillow, breathing deeply.

Lorelei dances behind her eyelids, changing between Lori-Lucy-Dean so quickly they all blur together and Elena sits up abruptly, eyes flying open.

Beside her, Dean turns over, grumbling.

She shushes him automatically. "Go back to sleep."

"Don't go running," he replies, still mostly asleep.

Elena laughs softly. "Don't worry I won't," she answers. "I'm just gonna shower," she says. "Go back to sleep," she repeats.

"Kay," he sighs, already asleep.

Elena climbs out of the bed. She is still dressed in her running clothes from the night before. She'd been too exhausted that morning to do anything but kick off her shoes and fall into bed, but now that she is awake she can feel all the places sand has wormed its way into and she's desperate to feel clean.

Grabbing her bag she heads for the bathroom.

She pulls out a clean outfit and places it on the counter, unpacking her makeup and skincare products, but she's unable to locate her hair straightener. Bemused, she digs around her bag, coming up empty. Finally, it hits her, her straightener is still in St. Augustine, in their motel bathroom.

Slowly, Elena climbs into the shower, washing herself automatically as she thinks about her hair. She could very easily leave Dean a note while she goes to buy a hair straightener, but she's been thinking a lot about her hair and the nature of being a hunter.

She won't always have hours upon hours to do her hair and perfect her face. Sometimes there will be nights without sleep and days without a moment to breathe. Does it really matter if her hair is perfectly straight while she's dumping a body in a swamp? Is it unforgiveable to not have perfect eyeliner when she's reading burial records?

Logically she knows the answer to both of those questions is no, but it goes against everything she was taught to not be perfectly presentable at all times. And perhaps that didn't always include straightening her hair – she remembers detangling her curls with practice fingers and applying styling mousses and smoothing oils – but her whole life, she has never not presented herself just so, in exactly the way Elena Gilbert is supposed to be presented: understated, but always perfect.

Maybe it's time for new habits, now that she has a new life path, maybe some beliefs can be unlearned for the better. Maybe Lorelei was right about some things, like maybe Elena is still perfect with her bare face and wild curls.

Without meaning to, she thinks of Lucy, that last time, standing in Elena's hospital room with her newly shortened, straight hair. Elena had straightened her hair for the first time because a counselor at camp made her feel unsafe in her body, Lucy had changed her hair because a man had made her body into a weapon to use against her and then got away with it. This time, Elena wants to make this choice because it is what she wants, not because she is reacting to someone else.

She dresses quickly, slathering her skin in moisturizer and sunscreen before pulling her wet mop of her hair up and under a Whitmore College Baseball cap that once belonged to her father.

Elena jots down a quick note to Dean explaining where she is going, then she leaves with her phone and room key in hand.

---

When Elena gets back Dean is in the shower, so she sits at the end of the bed, taking off her hat and carefully detangling her drying hair with her hands. Slick with oil, her fingers twist through her curls.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks from the doorway.

"Rosemary oil, for my hair," she explains.

"You have curly hair?" he realizes.

She laughs. "Yeah, yeah I do."

Carefully, she pours more oil into the palm of her hand.

"Don't feel like straightening it?" he asks.

She continues her ministrations, her fingers moving with very little thought. All of the old habits come back so easily, like she hadn't devoted most of her teen years to frying her hair straight.

She nods. "I think I'm gonna stop," she explains. "It takes too long."

"Is that why you get up so much earlier than me?" he asks.

"That, and the nightmares," she admits.

"Right," he says in sympathy. "You definitely need the extra sleep," he adds.

She sighs. "Yeah," she agrees quietly.

"It smells nice," he says.

"I'm glad you think so," she says with heavy irony. He'll have to get used to the smell, from now on.

He laughs. For a while he just stands there, watching her tend to her hair.

"You've got a crap load of hair, 'Lena," he says finally.

"Don't I know it," she says emphatically.

"Are you gonna have to do this every day?"

She shakes her head. "Just when I wash it," she explains.

"Did you have to straighten it every day?" he asks.

She nods.

"So, this is definitely the better end of it."

"Definitely."

"It looks good," he tells her.

She smiles. "Thank you."

They sit in silence for a minute.

"We could watch something while I finish?" Elena suggests.

Dean nods, grabbing the remote. "Any requests?" he asks.

"Something stupid," she replies.

"Reality TV, got it."

By the time Elena is done they are both fully engrossed in Big Brother, Dean's ankle propped on the coffee table in front of them, and Elena unconsciously leaning into him.

When it gets dark they debate Chinese versus pizza for their takeout until Dean finally gives into Elena's crab rangoon craving.

After they clean up their food and switch to a baking competition for a few hours, Dean sneaking a glance at her hair every few minutes.

"It's okay to ask," she says.

"How did you know?" he asks sheepishly.

"You keep looking at it," she points out.

"I dunno, it just looks so bouncy."

Elena bites her tongue before she can make reference to anything else about her that might be bouncy. She wants to be his friend, she reminds herself.

"Go ahead," she says instead.

He grasps a curl between his fingers, giving it a gentle tug, snorting in amusement at its springiness. Absentmindedly he wraps the curl around his wrist, running his thumb down the smooth length of her curl before unraveling her from himself, letting it go. Elena, meanwhile, fights the urge to shiver in pleasure at the intimacy of the gesture.

"Truly a fuck ton of hair," he repeats, amused.

Surprised, she laughs.

---

Jacksonville, Florida: November 20, 2015

"In the web that is my own, I begin again…" – Stevie Nicks, "Edge of Seventeen"

Since Dean is indisposed until his ankle heals, they're stuck in the motel room with bad television and mediocre takeout. John has given his blessing for Dean to start teaching Elena the mythology and research side of things too. So, they dedicate their mornings to mythology, afternoons to research, and their evenings to the sci-fi channel.

They're in the middle of a strange old movie about an immortal woman coming back for revenge when Elena decides to text Katherine.

I've decided to stop straightening my hair

"Pass the garlic knots," Dean says.

Elena dutifully hands them over.

Elena's phone buzzes with Katherine's responses in rapid succession.

You surprise me, Cupcake

Embracing the au natural?

Let me guess, hunter hunk finally saw your crazy bedhead and said he liked it

Elena rolls her eyes before responding.

No, a siren wanted to fuck me so bad she died

So we had to flee town

I forgot my straightener in the motel room /

"I think I like the first one better than this one," Dean says.

"Me too," Elena answers. "But I like the theme song."

"Yeah, that was good," Dean agrees.

Elena's phone begins to buzz again.

SHE DIED?!

Tell me everything

Didn't Klaus give you a matching black card to mine?

You do know how a credit card works, right Cupcake?

Elena bites her lip so she doesn't snicker at Katherine's dry humor.

On screen the beautiful blonde actress is being pulled in many directions by men all intent on owning her.

"Pass the brownies," Elena requests as she types her response to Katherine.

"They're disgusting," Dean replies in amusement as he hands them over.

Elena pulls a marshmallow out of the bag between them.

"Not if you chew fast."

He laughs.

I'll call you later, fill you in on the whole tragic tale of Lorelei

It's just less effort – not having to straighten it every day

Besides once I'm on a real hunt I won't have time to play hair salon every day

Elena tries to ignore the strange nervousness in her stomach as she waits for Katherine's reply. It's not like anything her counterpart might say will change her mind, but she is curious about how Katherine feels about a choice that will make them look more similar – more like Katherine and less like Elena – even if curly hair is both of their natural hair.

"Is it just me or does this movie not really make sense?" Dean asks.

"No, it really doesn't," Elena replies absentmindedly. "Like, it's not even the same woman from the first movie. Where's her vengeance?"

"Amen," Dean says in agreement.

Elena's phone buzzes with Katherine's reply.

Does that mean I get to go back to curls too?

Immediately the knot in her stomach unravels. Elena relaxes, shoving another gross brownie in her mouth before she replies.

Yes, but only au natural

I'm only using rosemary oil on mine

"I think they shoulda let that Ayesha chick from the first movie track down the sonofabitch who broke her heart and hunted him for sport or something."

Elena laughs.

"She died in the last movie," she reminds him.

He shrugs. "Doesn't matter, none of this makes sense anyway, might as well make it fun for us."

"You can change the channel," she reminds him as she checks her phone for Katherine's response.

Ugh fine

It's better than the sad flat 70s thing you had going on I guess

So? Does Hunter Hunk like your new hair?

Elena's reply is instantaneous.

Fuck off Kitty Cat

Then, hoping she isn't blushing, she sends another message.

…He asked if he could touch it

"Yeah, but I gotta know how it ends. Will she get her revenge in some weird twist ending?"

"Wouldn't that be nice," Elena says absentmindedly. She doesn't mean to think of Lucy, she never means to think of Lucy, but she does anyway.

It's a strangely disjointed moment. Dean is thinking only of the B-grade sci-fi movie they have on, Katherine is teasing her about her embarrassing crush on him, and Elena is thinking about how she let Lucy down. How it's too late for some twist ending where she gets her revenge on a dead man who tormented and impregnated her when she was far too young.

Her phone buzzes, bringing her out of her revelation.

Scandal!

Elena rolls her eyes, smiling a little.

Go fuck yourself

Katherine's reply is instantaneous.

Is he still pretending to be your boyfriend?

Elena feels her face get hot. She glances at Dean and is thankful to find him engrossed in the movie.

It helps keep the creeps away

She can't help it, her answer is defensive, but she can't deny it either, how much she enjoys the pretense.

You break him of the habit of asking before he touches you yet?

Elena feels her face getting warm again.

No

He always asks

And he does always ask. She can't even begin to describe the way it moves her even as she wishes he was more comfortable with her.

The height of romance

Elena rolls her eyes at Katherine's reply, feeling defensive.

Fuck off

Katherine's answer is quick.

I mean it!

Elena feels her shoulders relax.

It about melted my panties off when Stefan asked before he kissed me for the first time

Elena stifles a giggle. It's nice, knowing this side of Katherine, the girl who is taken aback when a boy asks for a kiss – and yes, Elena is ignoring the identity of this boy with all that she is worth because she is still so angry she can't think of him without shaking – the kind of girl that Elena could be friends with. The kind of girl that reminds Elena of herself.

You didn't wear panties in 1864

Feeling naughty, she sends another message.

I'm not convinced you wear them now

Katherine's reply is quick and makes Elena bite her lip to keep her mouth from dropping open in shock.

Well, I certainly don't as insta's latest wild child Elena Gilbert

It's still weird, to think about Katherine posing as her and posting all over the internet, trying to make it very clear what continent Alaric should be looking for her – but not what country. It's a carefully constructed game of cat and mouse with Katherine only posting places after she's left them.

Is our follower count still growing?

Last time Elena checked, Katherine had blown right past her first 100k followers in less than a week.

I swear we'll hit 500k before Christmas

Elena internally shudders, imagining the constant barrage of attention from creeps on the internet. It's bad enough in real life where most people have some sense of decorum – online where they felt anonymous – safe even – it could only be worse.

Better you than me

"Who are you texting?" Dean asks.

Elena looks up, startled. She glances at the television, realizing it is on a commercial.

"My brother," she lies quickly. "I don't think he likes South Dakota."

Dean winces in sympathy. "But he's getting along all right with Bobby, right?" he asks.

She nods. "Yeah, he likes Bobby fine." She feels a little guilty for lying to him about who she is texting, but she can't explain who Katherine is, and besides, Jeremy disliking South Dakota while enjoying Bobby Singer's company is true. They talked earlier that day.

"Remind him you'll be there for Christmas," Dean suggests.

Elena's phone buzzes again.

You know it!

Here Elena scowls automatically at Dean's words. When she spoke to John the day before he let her know that it was too early for her to visit Jeremy, so she wouldn't be visiting him for Thanksgiving. For the first time in her life, Elena will not spend the family holiday with her brother.

"Don't make that face," Dean requests softly. "You know he's doing it for your own good.

Carelessly she types out a reply to Katherine.

I'm going to sleep now

A lie, but Elena is no longer in the mood for Katherine's particular brand of humor.

"I know," she says shortly. She caves at Dean's look of understanding. "I know," she says again with more conviction. "We've just never spent a holiday apart before, that's all," she explains.

"Believe me, I know," Dean replies.

Elena softens. Dean doesn't often reference his brother, but when he does it always seems to hit right at the center of her heart.

Kiss the Hunter for me

Elena tries to keep her face neutral after reading Katherine's parting text.

"We'll need something better to watch for the holiday," Elena says finally keeping her tone light.

She types out a sassy reply to Katherine, because well, one of them should be having fun, it might as well be the one who is publicly pretending to be her.

Fuck a hot guy for me

"There's gonna be a Twin Peaks marathon on," Dean suggests.

"I've never seen it," Elena replies.

Dean's eyes widen. "Oh, you are in for a treat."

They finish the rest of the movie, occasionally commenting on the bad plots and goofy acting.

"That's kind of a bummer of an ending," Dean says. "The city just collapses and they run away and that's it?"

Elena shrugs. "At least the guy dies."

"Yeah but she didn't really get her revenge on him, did she?" Dean asks.

"No, but what could she have done to him after he was already dead?" Elena points out.

Dean shrugs. "I dunno. I guess you're right," he agrees. "It just feels like there should've been more to it."

"It's definitely not a lost classic or anywhere remotely in the family."

Dean laughs in agreement.

With nothing better to do, they let the next movie begin to play. While Dean is following along, Elena finds herself thinking about what she said about there being nothing you can do to get revenge after someone is dead.

Elena isn't sure if revenge is what Lucy would want or need because of what Coach Tanner did, but Elena cannot shake the feeling that she failed her somehow when she didn't take her place and tell the town what he did to her.

In her head she sees Lucy that day in the hospital, hair shorn, face blank as she said goodbye. She hears the quiver in her voice over the phone after Elena told her that Tanner was dead. He had bound them so close together, and between Elena's parents' death and Lucy leaving for college, that connection had been severed. That phone call where Elena passed on the news of his death was their last moment of connection before Lucy leapt headfirst into college and Elena was dragged under by the dark supernatural world closing in on her.

Still, if she is honest with herself, Elena can never reconcile the girl who extracted her friend out from under Coach Tanner's thumb in the course of one conversation with the girl who weakly told Dean that sometimes Damon was all she had.

One moment, she is the kind of girl who will shove and threaten a grown man without thought when she discovers he is hurting her friend, the next she is that man's friend. She doesn't know when she got so scared. Somewhere between finding the wounds on Caroline and finding out about the existence of vampires she began to shrink. She wants to be capable of protecting herself but more importantly she never wants to see a girl backed into a corner again. Never wants to find another confused girl bleeding on the ground.

She is ashamed of the idea of telling Dean how she failed her friend when she most needed her. She can't tell him that in the first place, it would violate the agreement she has with his dad, but it does not stop her from feeling it. There is another kind of shame growing inside of her, with the realization that she has let down the person she was before. Her past self would not recognize her, and not in a good way.

She wants to be the kind of girl that Dean is proud of, and she knows she hasn't been that girl in a while. More than anything she wants to be someone her past self would be proud of. There's nothing she can do for Caroline right now except stay gone, but she can still keep her promise to Lucy. She can still bury a dead man.

And it's been months since Elena sat down and wrote anything, but suddenly she fingers itch for a pen.

"All right, I'm beat, I'm headed for bed," Dean says.

Elena looks over at him, coming out of her reverie.

"What about you?" he asks.

She hesitates. "I might stay up for a bit, write an email to a friend, if that's all right? I won't keep you up?"

Dean nods. "Yeah, that's fine. I don't mind a little light."

While Dean gets ready for bed, Elena sets herself up at the little table by the window, opening her laptop.

She opens a document and titles it Why She Left and then she begins to write.

AN: Yes I am aware that was brutal, thank you for asking!

Notes/References:

If the sections including Elena's English teacher, the bouncer, and the bartender seems anti-climatic, they're kind of supposed to be. While the English teacher is also foreshadowing for the monster in the later part of the story, the main purpose of all of those scenes is to show how a good person would behave around Elena - if you wanna get into the nitty-gritty about how the bouncer and the bartender really should be carding Elena and not just assuming she's over 21, I won't argue with you there. It's just a little reminder from me to you that free will exists and all of these men are choosing to be like that.

The story Elena's piano teacher tells about Für Elise is only one theory as to why the song, officially titled "Bagatelle No. 25 in A Minor," is nicknamed Für Elise. There are other theories, but this is the one that suits the tone of this outtake best, and is one of the most widely circulated.

Yes, Bonnie did cause that brain aneurysm. Essentially she cursed him, when he tried to find a new job with new potential victims, he was very much stopped. Permanently. Of course, Bonnie doesn't even know she's a witch yet, so she has no idea.

Everything I know about cheerleding comes from the movie Bring It On (2000) and the novel Dare Me by Megan Abbott

I've always felt that Mr. Tanner's dislike of Elena felt personal. I know he's supposed to just be like that, but there's just something about the way he goes after her - and everyone connected to her - that has always rubbed me the wrong way.

The Beatles' songs that are used in the section with Grayson are Girl and Run for Your Life.

Both the cheerleader Tanner is flirting with and Mr. Crawford, the piano teacher turned stalker, are from Grove Hill, Isobel's hometown.

At the start of the show Elena is already reading gothic novels like Wuthering Heights but I like the idea of giving her a little evolution by starting her on her home turf with the Southern Gothic genre. A Winter's Bone was adapted into a movie in 2010, it's largely considered Jennifer Lawrence's breakout role.

I've always headcanoned that Nadia's father was a Silas doppelganger, which explains why Katherine was immediately so struck by Stefan. I am not nearly enough of a romantic for the love at first sight storyline they were selling. And Katherine is definitely the kind of character to take that kind of secret to her grave.

Jeremy's pizza is actually one I used to make as a teenager for my birthday!

Dean calling Elena Maggie: I have a headcanon that Elena's middle name is Magnolia, because of her mother's love of the flower. I know her middle name is Marie in the books, but it's never confirmed in the show and honestly if it was I would still take liberties :)

Lori is played by Monica Bellucci in my head, circa Spectre (2015) era. I imagine Lucy as Katie Folger, vaguely inspired by her performance as Libby in From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series, mostly in the way she looks. Don Johnson as Matthew Miller. Lauren Hutton for Lucy's mother, circa Timestalkers (1987).

Lori is dressed like Elena does once she becomes a hunter! Jeans, boots, and her boyfriend's shirt. Both Lori and Lucy function as Elena's foils. Lucy represents Elena as a teenage girl, trying to survive being sexualized before she's mature enough for it. Lori represents Elena's place in the supernatural world, alluring and powerful, but all of this power is so precarious at the same time, and there's always someone more powerful.

The very first time Dean ever called Elena Baby and he didn't even mean it, ouch tbh

Yes Dean and Elena are going to the same James Bond movie Monica Bellucci is in lol.

I took wild liberties with the siren's powers and I am not in fact sorry.

Lorelei is a Siren in Germanic folklore who was first a human woman that killed herself over the betrayal of her lover by jumping from a cliff into the sea, and then she became a siren, luring men to their deaths as punishment for her lover's betrayal.

Originally the idea for this outtake was "when Elena stopped straightening her hair" as you can see, things spiraled wildly out of control.

The movies Dean and Elena are watching are She (1965) and The Vengeance of She (1968) some of you might recognize the remixed version of the sequel's theme song, Who Is She?, sampled by I Monster. It is an absurdly Petrova song, if I do say so myself

Thoughts? Questions? Please leave a review!

xoxo

-Pixie