#a few of them are naughty nature too. we do a little trolling(sound of someone fighting for their fucking life)

[galacticnova3]

So like. A while back I came up with the headcanon that albino Dhelmise would be more inclined to attack a wider variety of prey items due to being unable to photosynthesize effectively. This is partly inspired by real plants that lack the pigments necessary for photosynthesis and instead parasitize other plants, such as the appropriately named ghost plant(Monotropa uniflora)(this one is actually the main inspiration for this headcanon due to its name and the fact that it can be a very pale pink or deep crimson— sound familiar?), beechdrops(Epifagus virginiana), and dodders. It obviously isn’t going to be 1:1 for a few reasons, those being that seaweed isn’t actually a plant to begin with(kelps are all macroalgae), there are currently no identified non-photosynthetic macroalgae(only two types of algae are known to be heterotrophic, both of which are strictly unicellular parasites), and the fact that Dhelmise is already known to be predatory/carnivorous rather than parasitic. Still, I think there’s enough basis both in real life and in-universe for this to hypothetically be a thing.

While their normal and shiny(and probably melanistic) counterparts would be able to supplement their nutritional needs by just hanging out in shallower waters during the day, that wouldn’t really be an option for individuals that lack pigmentation. Spending more energy hunting to make up for being unable to passively generate it would naturally lead to an overall increase in energy needs, which in turn means it would be beneficial to take what they can get. They can’t afford to rely solely on encounters with Wailords or other large Pokémon because they don’t have a consistent energy source to keep them alive(well, as alive as a ghost can be) between hunts, especially when taking into account how unlikely it is that they have a 100% hunting success rate to begin with. Also consider the kinda funny idea that the ones you should worry about aren’t dark green and able to be fairly camouflaged, a threatening shade of red, or ace pride flag colored the kind of colors you’d expect of a powerful sea creature that feeds on life energy— it’s the ones that are pastel pink and purple. Sailors telling stories of the heart-stopping moment they caught a glimpse of baby pink beneath the waves and prayed their ship wouldn’t join the countless others dragged beneath the waves.

Anyways would having like twenty of them in one field be considered dangerous for visitors in-universe, in the same way that wildlife safaris in areas with big cats or large herbivores(bison, buffalo, etc) are? Would the hugelarge Dhelmise pool(s) need a sign like WARNING DO NOT COME WITHIN 10 FEET OF THE WATER THEY WILL HAPPILY TAKE MORE THAN JUST BERRIES IF GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY. Do you gotta sign a waiver that makes it so that Av’s Seaweed Emporium wouldn’t be legally liable for any seaweed-related injuries caused by improper conduct just to be able to visit The Gang

[geekofmanyforms]

New Beginning:Chapter Twenty

AN: Sorry for the long wait. I hope you guys like this update. I changed a lot, and plan to continue on that route. I will still go by episodes but will be putting a lot more of my own spin on them. I plan on skipping ahead a bit, but it won't be a time skip kinda thing. I promise it will make sense and go, pretty smoothly, I think. I am beyond ready for the Originals to get here! Also, I don't know if any of you are as excited as I am for the reveal of how El breaks her curse, but I have officially decided how she is going to be doing that. It's not exactly how I had originally planned for it to happen, but I had a dream a few weeks ago and just loved the whole idea. It's a bit sad; I think it may piss a few people off, but that's part of the appeal:) As always, please review and let me know what you think. Don't be a silent reader. I swear I don't bite! Also, this story has thirty some chapters on AO3 and Fanfiction.net. Edited by my Beta Casey.*

A steady buzzing pulled me from my fitful slumber. My neck ached as I rolled out of the tight ball I found myself wrapped up in. The muscles in my back burned, searing in protest as I sat up and stretched my body. An unhealthy popping sound made me wince as I moved my neck from side to side. I pulled my red hair from where it had become stuck to my cheek and was once again thankful that there was no one else here to witness the side of me that was more troll than human.

My phone buzzed incessantly again, and I glared dangerously at the little black machine that was responsible for my being awake at the ungodly hour of five a.m. Before I could even consider seeing who dared to wake me, I knew I needed to get out of yesterday's clothes and find some sort of caffeine.

I grabbed myself a change of clothes before slipping out of my room and tiptoeing to the bathroom. Once I was safely inside, I went about my business, allowing the hot water to rinse everything away. As I scrubbed at my skin, I imagined the water washing away the metaphorical stain on my soul, as well as the visible grime from the day before.

After my skin was sufficiently rubbed raw, I left the shower and dried my hair, weaving it into a loose, side french braid. Aside from the lotion I rubbed into my parched skin, I left my face natural and headed back into my room to grab my phone and purse. Shutting my door on the way out, I skipped over the squeaky step and stealthily made my way downstairs as I pulled out my phone to check who had tried to call. My head cocked to the side when I noticed I had an oddly large number of missed calls, all from Damon. What the hell did he want? Just as I was placing my finger over his name, there was a knock on the front door.

Dammit!

Jenna, Elena, and Jeremy were still sleeping, for God's sake! I quickly headed to the door and yanked it open, a few strands of hair blowing out around my face as it passed me by. Cerulean blue orbs and a familiar cocky smirk greeted me. I narrowed my eyes, grinding my teeth together. I could feel my cheeks warming and hated myself for it. Damon smiled wickedly and leaned against the door frame, one arm lifted above his head. His usual button-up shirt was absent today, instead he wore a long sleeve black t-shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His raven hair fell into his eyes as he moved closer to me. I bit my tongue, my traitorous fingers itched to brush the hair from his forehead. His smirk widened as if he could read my thoughts, and I stepped away from him, flexing my fingers, which only made him chuckle.

I hated his face. His stupid, cocky, yet oh so sexy face.

His right hand moved into view, and I noticed a large coffee cup. My whole body reacted to the sight. Every ounce of my annoyance bled away at the thought of getting the fix I needed. My face lifted into a grin, and my heart raced with joy.

"You bought me an iced frappe?" I squealed. "Those are my favorite!"

I grabbed the cup out of his hands and took a large, dramatic sip, moaning as the chilled espresso beverage satisfied my raging urge for caffeine. Caramel; he even got my favorite flavor.

"Wish I could say I bought it out of the kindness of my heart, but," Damon laughed mischievously. "It's a bribe."

I stepped outside, the cool morning air brushing over my skin, and goosebumps pebbled up my arms. I locked the door behind me, pulling my shirt sleeves down to cover my arms. "What do you want, Day?"

I took another sip of the caramel frappe and started down the porch steps. Damon followed beside me, his hands in his pockets.

"Well, it seems that your sister spent the night doing the naughty with my brother."

His face turned up for a moment, an unpleasant hateful expression marring his usually attractive face. Jealousy isn't a good look on Damon, and I found that knowing it was my sister that brought forth that sort of reaction, made me feel physically ill.

"So," he continued, "I want you to join me in interrupting their morning. To throw them off. I also want your take on Stefan's whole 'let's work together' spiel.'"

Damon used bunny ear quotations when he talked of Stefan's idea and I huffed out a laugh, sliding into his car and leaning my head back against the seat in frustration. When he got in, I turned towards him, my eyes hard.

"Fine, but I'll tell you right now before we even get there, I won't be involved in anything to do with damaging their relationship. I know this is hard for you, seeing them together, but she is happy, and I won't help you ruin that."

Damon's eyes scanned my face, his own expressionless as he focused on reading me. I was an open book, at least at this moment. I didn't need to hide anything from him. In fact, he needed to see it. He needed to know he could trust me, but he also needed to know my limits. Elena and Stefan's relationship; the game he wanted to play with his brother, that was one of them.

Once he had seen what he needed to, he nodded, moving back into his seat. He pulled out of my drive and drove towards the Boarding House, only slowing when I took out a coin to throw over Wickery Bridge.

"Why do you do that? '' he asked.

I rolled up my window and looked at him, shrugging. "It's silly, but it's my way of remembering my parents. People throw coins in fountains and wells to make wishes, well I throw them over the bridge and into the water where my parents died as a way to remember them. I want to make sure that they know I haven't forgotten them, and that I wish they were still here."

My voice cracked, and I cursed myself for allowing emotion to poke through my normally stoic exterior. Damon brushed a strand of hair from my face, placing it behind my ear, a real, none sarcastic smile gracing his lips.

"There's my Elandra," he whispered as we left the bridge behind. "Always so soft-hearted,"

I looked away from him, trying to ignore the way his hand had felt on my skin. Finally, we arrived at the house and I all but jumped from the car the moment he stopped. I stepped into the house and headed upstairs towards Stefan's room. I could feel Damon following me but decided to sip my coffee and ignore him. When I reached Stefan's door, I stood to the side and allowed Damon to take the lead.

"This is so mean," I sighed.

Damon smiled, opening the door and taking my hand, effectively cutting off my protests. He approached the bed, slowly sitting down at the foot and smirking at the vision our siblings made curled up together, unaware of the world around them. They were snuggled up, spooning. It was an unsettling image. Not just because it was my sister I was watching, likely after she had just had sex. Which was just...disgusting. It was also like I was watching a vision of the past. I was finally able to see, first hand, what it had been like when Katherine was with Stefan, all while Damon was in the wings, pining and devastated that the woman he loved was with his brother, always just out of his reach. It made my stomach roll. Was that the sort of thing Damon imagined every time he looked at my sister?

I turned away, feeling more like my past self then I wanted to admit. My heart hurt; this whole situation was starting to bother me more than I expected it too. Katherine would love to know that, and I couldn't let her see it. I couldn't let her use the pain of my past to get what she wanted from me. Elena started to wake, and Stefan joined her seconds later. He wrapped his arms around her tightly as he kissed her on the cheek, a bright smile on his face. I swallowed roughly, averting my eyes from their private moment.

"Mmm. Good morning," Elena sighed contentedly.

This was so wrong. I am the worst sister ever.

Stefan pulled her closer and looked down at her flushed face. "I could get used to this,"

Damon sneered, tilting his head and choosing that moment to make our presence known. "Rise and shine, sleepyheads," he cheerfully said, slapping the bed with gusto.

I winced, turning my head away as they both jumped, my sister revealing her lacy black bra in the process. I quickly walked over to them, yanking the sheet over Elena with a growl in Damon's direction.

Elena narrowed big brown accusatory eyes at me. "Damon, Elara! Please!" she yelled, turning to face him and taking hold of the sheet.

Stefan, on the other hand, let the sheet fall, his bare chest in full view. Elena lifted the sheet to cover him again, glaring in my direction. I scoffed lightly, which turned into a full-on laugh when she bared her teeth at me in anger.

"Please, Lena. Do you know how many times I used to watch them swim in the lake with my brothers? I have seen both Salvatores bare-chested many times. Besides, Stefan is a brother in my eyes," I sighed, stepping next to Damon, who smiled up at me.

"You've seen a lot more than my bare chest, Miss Miller," he mock-whispered.

I blushed profusely and smacked his chest, avoiding my sister's fiery gaze. Stefan tried to reign in a laugh, turning it into a mild cough, which only made Elena grumble in anger.

"What are you two doing in my bedroom?" Stefan asked.

Damon scoffed, his face playful. "Oh, stop being smutty, Stef,"

Stefan pulled the sheet further up on Elena, making sure she was appropriately covered.

"Seriously, get out of here!" Stefan hollered.

I jumped lightly and grabbed Damon's arm, he shrugged me off with a laugh and leered at Stefan and Elena.

"If I see something I haven't seen before, I'll throw a dollar at it," he smirked.

I blinked several times at this and took a step back, my mind whirring at the oddly scientific idea he proposed. I wasn't entirely sure that's what he had meant, but the seed had been planted in my head all the same. Are Elena and Katherine COMPLETELY identical? It's a disgusting thought but an intriguing one. While all these weird ideas were flying through my mind, I didn't notice when Damon stood and leaned down, placing his hands on the frame at the foot of the bed.

"Now listen, we have some very important business to discuss," he said.

Elena sat back and sighed. "And it has to be right now?" she asked.

Damon sneered, crossing his arms. "Well, we have lots to do, now that we're all friends and working towards a common goal," he smirked.

Stefan and Elena exchanged a look, one that made me uneasy. I narrowed my eyes and stood side by side with Damon, crossing my own arms. Yeah, if they were working with Damon than Katherine was gonna win Miss Congeniality at the next Miss Mystic Falls pageant.

"So, to open the tomb, we need to find the journal to get the grimoire to undo the spell. First things first — since as you are Elena Gilbert, you're on journal duty," Damon said.

Elena huffed, pointing her bony finger in my direction. "Hello! Elara G-I-L-B-E-R-T!" Elena spat, spelling out our last name hatefully. "Why can't she do it?" she asked.

Damon turned towards me and shrugged. "Miller," he enunciated slowly. "She'll always be a Miller to me, and besides, I need her for something else. She is an all-powerful witch; journal duty is below her pay grade," he said with a cocky smile.

Elena glared at me, and I slapped Damon on the arm. "Damon, cool it. You're getting me into trouble," I whispered.

Damon turned to me with a wicked smile, and I raised a brow in question. "Since when am I helping? Elara I get, you bat your eyes and somehow convince her to help you," she petulantly said.

I placed a hand on my hip and ground my teeth together, ready to let loose on my childish little sister, but Damon placed his hand on my arm, stopping me before I could blow up on her. I let out a deep breath and tried to cool off, turning away as Damon continued with his little drama fest.

"Well, since Stefan's helping, and you have taken up residence in Stefan's bed, ergo…" he trailed off suggestively.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing, my cheeks burning from the effort. Stefan looked at Elena, ever the knight in shining armor...or sheet as it may be at the moment, and smiled warmly at her.

"You don't have to do anything that you don't want to," he said.

Elena sighed in acceptance, looking at Damon with a gleam in her eye, one that had my spidey senses tingling. Something was definitely going on. I tried to catch her eye and knew for sure they had some sort of plan the moment she guiltily avoided my gaze. I shook my head and turned away from her. She could look for the journal all she wanted, but she wouldn't find it. I would borrow it from Jeremy myself, then use it to locate the grimoire and take it before either of them ever had the chance. I wasn't going to let them stab Damon in the back, not this time. He needed to know that Katherine wasn't in that tomb.

"I'll look for it tonight," she said.

I stood straighter, lowering my chin and staring them both down in anger and defiance. Elena laid back in the bed, pulling the sheet over her face in annoyance.

"Good," Damon said.

Stefan looked down at Elena in amusement and then glanced at Damon and me. "How do we know that this journal will hold the location of the grimoire? We're really going to take the word of this vampire? He seemed like a bit of a dimwit," Stefan said, obviously hoping to stall Damon a bit.

I placed a hand on the back of my neck and rolled my eyes.

"In lieu of any other options," Damon said

I looked at them both and shook my head. "The location is in there. Don't worry. We'll get the grimoire," I said, staring at Stefan with heated eyes.

He watched me closely until Elena pulled the sheet from her face and sat up. "Ok, what exactly is a grimoire, anyway?" she asked.

Damon shrugged his shoulders and looked at me with a smile. "A witch's cookbook," he said.

I started giggling, my chest shaking with the force of it. Stefan sighed, laying back on the bed as Elena had.

"Every spell that a witch casts is unique itself, so every witch would document their work," Stefan explained, speaking towards the ceiling.

Elena watched him, her brows raised in surprise. She looked at me in excitement. "Do you have one?" she asked, voice rushed.

I lowered my head, my laughter dying down. "Elena, I'm not really that kinda witch, but yeah, I have had a few. They were more like journals, though, with memories and thoughts. They did have a few of my own spells that only witches of my kind could ever hope to cast. But they have all probably been lost to time," I said thoughtfully. "Even if they hadn't, with as many different names as I have had, and lives I have lived, only I would even know it was mine."

I refused to tell her that there were a few people that could probably distinguish my handwriting enough to discover if a journal belonged to me. She didn't need to know that the Mikelasons were some of the few people who probably knew me well enough to piece together the different facets of my life.

Elena looked disappointed for some reason, probably hoping I would loan Bonnie a bit of my past. When would she learn that Bonnie would never be able to do what I can? We were two very different incarnations of the witch. She was one of nature: and bound to everything that goes with that. I am a witch of creation: my ancestors were chosen, created to be what we are. My magic was not a gift from nature, so I will never be bound to her or her rules. Nor, will I ever be forced to bow to my ancestors or any other witch for that matter, dead or alive. I felt lucky knowing my ancestors would never force me to do their bidding. I was free to make my own mistakes, and if or when I needed their help, I would always have the option of asking for it, free of fear. Whether they accepted, it was another story. I had been taught long ago that my family line of magic came from deep within our cores. Our very souls were infused with ancient magic, the magic we can draw from. That's how I can channel everything through myself, and am visibly able to show my own magical signature. I can push it outward, and use the force of it as a weapon.

The true story of how my family became infused with magic had long been lost. My mother did tell me as a child that the first of our line, Ashilda, had come across a stone arch after our family settled on their land. When she approached the arch - one she was sure had been there since the time of the old Gods - she found a peculiar script written across it. When she placed her hand on the jagged edge of the stone, she cut the palm of her hand. When her blood seeped onto the rock, a bright light engulfed her. It spilled into her body, lighting up her core, infusing it with the power that we carry within us today. My mother said the old Gods found our line worthy, and now every firstborn daughter is blessed with the gift of magic.

Who knows if that is what truly happened, all I know is, that I'm grateful to not be beholden to anyone, let alone mother nature. I had warned Bonnie once already of what could happen to witches that went against their ancestors, and I was glad to not be one of her kind. I shook myself from my thoughts and focused on the conversation unfolding in front of me.

"And I don't like that disadvantage, so…." Damon clapped his hands together. "Chop, chop."

He grabbed my arm and escorted me towards the door backward. I stumbled dumbly; wait, what had I missed while I was daydreaming?

"You know, I really like this whole menage a foursome team thing. It's got a bit of kink to it," he chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. "Don't screw it up," he said, pointing at them both as he pulled me out the door.

Damon slowly walked me down the stairs, once we hit the bottom step, I yanked him to a stop, my finger on my lips. I used my other hand and pointed at my ear and then the ceiling. He rolled his eyes, their blue depths staring upward where I knew Elena and Stefan were probably trying to act all innocent. After a second, his face screwed up in disgust, and he took my wrist, dragging me outside towards his car.

"What?" I snapped

I figured I probably didn't want the answer if the look on his face was anything to go by. He pushed me into the car, and I huffed in annoyance. I was really getting tired of his pushy behavior.

I watched him warily as he slipped into the car, slamming on the gas and speeding out of the driveway like a man possessed.

"He knew I was listening. Whatever Elena was about to say...he stopped her. Then she decided to...change the subject," he said through clenched teeth.

I crossed my arms and glanced out the window. "Well, good for her. Seems like Stefan may be more fun than I give him credit for," I said under my breath.

Damon, of course, heard me and made sure to hit every bump in the road on the way to my house. By the time he was back in my driveway, at the speed he had been going, my head was quite sore from hitting the roof of his car, but it was worth it. I was sick and tired of him fawning over my sister. I turned my head towards him with a sigh.

"Listen, Damon, I hate to say this, but I don't trust either of our Saint siblings. They obviously have a plan of their own. But what they don't know is, I have insider info."

At my words, Damon's head finally shot towards mine, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. When I saw he was no longer harboring anger towards me, I continued,

"I already know where the journal is. So, I'm going to go get it, and when I have it, I'll recover the location of the grimoire. Then I'm gonna put the journal somewhere they can find it, and they'll never be the wiser."

Damon's eyes clouded with confusion, and I smiled wickedly, leaning closer as if my next words were a closely guarded secret. I lowered my voice,

"I thought you might wanna have some fun with them. We could see exactly what they planned to do. Play with them a bit," When I saw his eyes spark, I quickly added my amendment. "But gently," I added.

His full, pink lips pouted playfully, but his eyes never lost their spark. "You really are amazing, Ellie," he said.

I laughed lightly and decided to taunt him a bit. "And just think I could have been all yours. Elandra Salvatore."

His eyes darkened, and my smile became predatory.

"Too bad, eh. If only I had been born a Petrova," I sighed, my green eyes hardening for a moment.

Damon leaned away from me, his pale face slackening, and I almost felt bad for a moment, but then I remember the pain I had felt watching him as he lusted after my sister all morning, and the guilt vanished. Rebekah would be so proud.

"I'll text you, Damon. Do not make them suspicious of us," I said, pointing my finger at him.

He pushed back his emotions, his mask slipping back into place as he nodded. I slid out of the car and headed inside to find Jeremy and the journal.

Jeremy was pretty easy to locate; like most teenage boys, he was lounging on the couch playing video games.

"Hey, Jer,"

He smiled at me and I plopped down beside him. His eyes never left the TV as he continued rolling the joystick on his controller in a circular motion, a determined expression on his face. I leaned my head on his shoulder and watched him play for a moment.

"I have favor kiddo. Well more like a question," I said.

At this, Jeremy paused his game and spun around on the couch, lifting one leg onto the seat as he turned to face me.

"What's up, Ellie Bean?" he asked in concern.

My heart lifted at the love his expression showed, and I vowed to make sure Elena never forced him into anything again. At least for as long as I could. I felt my stomach sink and tried to forget, for now, that I wasn't going to be around for much longer.

"You remember that creepy monster journal you were reading of our ancestors? Can I have it? I am doing research for a story I'm writing," I said quietly, biting my bottom lip as if I were embarrassed.

Jeremy blinked at me, briefly surprised. Like everyone else, he didn't know that I was into writing (which I am, just never in this life), then smiled brightly. "You're a writer, El?" he asked excitedly.

I nodded quickly with faux enthusiasm, leaning in after looking around the room. "I like to write fiction, but since writing is Elena's thing, I've never nurtured it until recently. Please don't tell anyone, especially that I asked about the journal. I don't want anyone to know I'm into that sorta stuff, Jer," I flushed. "It's kinda embarrassing..."

Jeremy grinned, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Deal, but I gave the journal to Mr. Saltzman, so you'll have to wait until I can get it back,"

My eyes narrowed into slits. What the hell is Alaric doing with a hunter's journal?

"That's ok, Jer. Just keep this between you and me," I smiled, rising to my feet. Jeremy nodded, pressing start on his game. I waved goodbye and raced out the door, pulling my keys from my bag.

Well, it looks like I'm making a trip to the school.

I pulled into the school, only a few cars lining the mostly deserted parking lot. I spotted the exact one I was looking for and felt my tight jaw tick. I didn't know what to expect, but Alaric Saltzman was proving to become more and more interesting, and not in a good way. It seemed he was going to be a problem, something I never wanted him to become. I had never gotten a bad vibe from him, and I had always been able to trust my vibes or 'sixth sense' about people. That was the only reason I wasn't calling Damon right now and giving him the green light to go in fangs blazing.

I shut off my car and held onto the strap of my purse tightly as I walked up to the entrance, silently praising whichever God was listening when the door was unlocked. I was saving my magical reserve just in case. I was still building up my stamina. The more magic I used, the weaker it made me. I needed to train so that I could cast longer without weakening myself. Who the hell knew what I was walking into. I had never been alone with Alaric or gotten close enough, to get a good read on him. I knew he was human, but that didn't always mean weak. Humans had the potential to be quite powerful with the proper training. As I entered, I squinted in the darkness, glancing around. When I knew I was alone, I cast a low-level spell on myself so that I would blend in with my surroundings. I grimaced as the cold feeling of an egg breaking atop my head slithered over me. I exhaled in relief. I should be sufficiently hidden from all except those who were either trained in the craft or at least knew what to look for.

I tiptoed towards the History classroom, all the while keeping my ears and eyes peeled. As I neared the room, I could see a faint warm light shining in the darkness.

Hello...someone is home.

I peeked into the room and found Alaric sitting at his desk bent over the journal, pouring over its contents with avid interest. His eyes were strained with exhaustion, and I felt a pang of pity for the poor man. What was going on with him? I watched him read for a few minutes, just taking in his mannerisms, trying to understand a bit about him. When he stood quite suddenly, I gasped, stepping away from the door as he burst through. I followed behind him, noticing with interest when he stopped in the middle of the hallway, his back rigid. He spun around and quickly scanned his surroundings in a defensive position, that of a trained hunter. I knew that look. I had seen it many times before. Hell, I had used it myself after Kol taught me.

I've got you now, Mr. Saltzman. Interesting, very interesting. Do the council members know he is a hunter?

I held my breath while his eyes passed over my near-invisible form. I knew that to the trained eye, a shimmer could be seen, but unless Alaric knew a lot about witchcraft, he wouldn't know what to search for. I kept my breath held deeply and watched him wait, head twitching left then right. Finally, he gave up, feet smacking against the tile floor as he headed back the way he had started. Air escaped my lips as my lungs thanked me for the oxygen they so desperately needed. I gulped down a few lungfuls and followed after my mysterious hunter/history teacher. I would seriously need to pay better attention in class from now on. Who knows precisely what type of supernatural beings he hunts. No need to piss him off unnecessarily. I found him in the teacher's lounge, making copies of the journal. The glow from the copier illuminated his still form, and I bit my lip, unsure if him having a copy of the journal was such a good idea. I stood next to him and watched as he finished rather quickly. When he was done, he shut off the light, and I followed him back to his classroom, this time without any oxygen deprivation. He lightly tossed the original journal on his desk and slipped the copy in a drawer beside him. Sitting back in his seat, he covered his tired face with his hands. I saw a quick glimpse of the purple bags under his eyes and felt the pang of pity in the pit of my stomach again. I wasn't entirely sure what exactly it was about this man, but I had a bit of a soft spot for him. I could see he was a good man and that he would be suitable for Jenna. Still, he seemed to be just as stuck in the supernatural world as Elena was, and that would just put my family at further risk.

Would it be worth it to help this man? As he pulled his rough hands away from his face, his blue eyes locked with my invisible green orbs, and I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. Something was telling me Alaric Saltzman was meant to become involved with the Gilbert family. I could feel a firm sense of resolve fill me.

Ok, Alaric, I'm going to help you.

I nodded as a plan started to form in my mind, and watched him grab a handful of papers from a tray on his desk. Leaning over them he began to grade, with much less enthusiasm than he had before when reading the journal. A sudden movement outside of the classroom caught both Alaric and I's attention, our heads snapping towards the disturbance. I stepped away from Alaric and moved towards the journal, using his captured attention to my advantage, my hand reaching out to it. When Alaric stood, heading to the door, I took the journal from the desk, slipping it into my bag with ease. Alaric stepped outside the room, his back ramrod straight. I watched him closely, ready to step in if he needed me to.

"Hello?" he called out.

I rolled my eyes. Really?

I almost wanted to tell him how very teenage girl in a horror flick he was right now. When he left the classroom for the hallway, I slipped my hand into his desk, where he had stashed the copy he had made and grabbed it as well.

Sorry, Alaric…

I stepped out of the room and slid past him as quietly as possible. I could sense a vampire here with us, and it wasn't either of the boys. I didn't plan on staying to find out who it was. I cast a quick protection spell on Alaric, hoping it would be enough to give him the shot he would need to take care of himself. I couldn't stick around all day, protecting him. I looked back at him one last time, he was still calling out into the darkness and exited the school. As I hopped into my car, I sensed a familiar presence in the air. Stefan? How did he find out about the journal? I put my car in drive and fled the school before Stefan got the chance to see me. I drove as quickly as I dared, and pulled into my house ten minutes before I would have driving the speed limit. I grabbed the journal and scanned the pages rapidly, searching for anything that would tell me what I needed to know. When I found what I was looking for, my eyes ignited with hatred.

That stupid son of a bitch!

I should have guessed. I pulled the copy from my bag and stepped out of my car, walking beside the house. I grabbed Aunt Jenna's tin bucket from the garden and sat it on the ground in front of me, placing the copy of the journal inside. I stood, brushing the gravel from my knees and snapped my fingers, setting the pages on fire. I stood in front of the bucket, watching the pages curl and burn as the smoke swirled in circles. Once the pages were ash, I took the pail to the curb, dumping the remains in the trash can with a smirk. With the original journal in hand, I headed inside. I could hear voices coming from the kitchen but chose to ignore whoever it was for now. I sat down next to Jeremy, who was still lounging on the couch.

"Hey, Jer. Did you tell Stefan about the journal?" I whispered.

Jeremy looked up at me oddly but shook his head. "No, why?" he asked in confusion.

I frowned slightly, hoping I could believe him and sighed. "Who did you tell?" I asked.

Jeremy looked more confused than ever at my strange questioning and blinked slowly before realization dawned on his face. "Stefan was here earlier when I was talking to this girl Anna about the journal. She wanted to see it, but I told her I needed it once I got it back from Ric. He probably heard me," he said, shrugging.

I leaned against his shoulder and smiled. "Ahhh. Well, that makes sense. Cause see, I went and borrowed it from Alaric, but Stefan was there asking about it. I was nervous and didn't wanna bother them, so I just took it. I'll explain it to Alaric later. I was just curious why Stefan wanted it. Could you tell Stefan you went and picked it up if he asks? Just tell him that when you grabbed it, Alaric wasn't around," I pleaded with puppy eyes.

Jeremy must have sensed my need and thought it was because I was a bit nervous around Stefan. His brotherly instincts kicked in.

"Yeah, of course, Ellie. You don't have to say shit to Stefan!"

I grinned broadly and kissed his cheek, giving him the tightest hug I could. "Ok, I'm gonna leave this here on the table for now. Remember, this is just between you and me, ok?"

Jeremy winked at me, and I left him to the TV and his lazy day. I felt bad for using my baby bro like that, but I knew he would understand when the time came. I just couldn't wait until we could really team-up. I wanted to tell him everything. I headed into the kitchen and was shocked to find Aunt Jenna planted on the counter, her legs swinging happily, a glass of red wine in hand. Damon was standing beside her, cutting into a tomato. I held the swinging door open, my lashes batting in amused confusion.

"My father never approved of anyone I dated, which only made me want them more, of course. What about you?" Damon was saying.

I scoffed lightly, releasing the door, the breeze of it swaying back into place blowing strands of my air around. I placed a hand on my hip. What an utter crock of shit. His father approved of our union until I was found to be a witch. Of course, by then, he had known Damon had basically dissolved our courtship in favor of Katherine. It had strained their relationship even more than it already had been. He had thought it a stain on their family honor, a broken courtship was a massive faux pas after all.

Damon spun around to greet me, the sharp blade pointed in my direction. "Have something to add there, Ellie," he asked, brow raised in a dare.

I held my jaw together tightly. "No, I was just under the assumption that there was one girl your father had approved of, once upon a time. At least for a brief period," I said tightly.

Damon cocked a grin, his eyes blazing in triumph. Had he been goading me? Jenna looked between us momentarily before watching Damon go back to cutting up the tomato.

"Yeah, there was one, but I screwed that up royally, so she doesn't really count," he said in an almost whisper.

Jenna handed him her glass of wine and patted him on the back in a gesture of solidarity. I giggled under my breath when Damon chugged down the last of her wine before pouring her more, when he tried to stop in the middle of the glass Jenna took the bottle, filling the cups to the rim. Damon chuckled, going back to his chopping.

"There were a few guys. Logan isn't the only loser I've dated," Jenna said mournfully.

Damon looked at me and pointed the knife in my direction again. "What about you?" he asked.

I choked on my tongue and started coughing. Jenna laughed joyfully. "Yeah, El, what about you? I'd like to hear about this. You have always been so secretive, and Elena won't ever spill about you," Jenna said.

I leaned against the island and sighed deeply. Damon was such an ass.

"Umm. I don't really date. I have had flings," I said, avoiding Jenna's eyes.

Jenna spluttered, wine flying onto my face. I wiped the liquid from my cheek and bit my lip, wincing at her surprised expression.

"Elara Marie!" she gasped.

I raised my hands in the air and shook my head. "Hey, no judgment. I am not...I have no time...I just don't want a relationship, and I'm not stupid. I'm careful," I said, stuttering painfully.

Jenna observed me weighing her words, with a resigned sigh, her shoulders slumped as she smiled weakly. "At least tell me who?" she asked.

I laughed uneasily. "Um, Tyler Lockwood and a guy from the football team. No one that you know. After Tyler, I decided to keep things casual. No close friends. It's my rule," I explained, twisting my fingers.

"Well, at least it's not someone like Logan Fell. I hope..." she said.

I shook my head, and she smiled. Damon, who had been oddly quiet throughout our conversation apart from the savage sound of chopping, bit out a few words. "Did they ever find him?" he asked.

I turned away, rolling my eyes. That asshat had deserved everything he got.

"He's not missing. He's in the Bahamas working on his tan. Very entitled, that one. Marches to his own drum." She drained the remainder of her glass. "He's a Fell. They're all snooty," she added.

Damon chuckled and poured some more wine in Jenna's glass. Was he helping her get drunk? She smiled brightly at him and headed towards the living room. I watched her go, hoping Jeremy would make sure she didn't get too smashed. I stepped beside Damon and leaned next to his ear, in the guise of reaching for a slice of tomato. He made to slap my hand, but I growled at him.

"I found it," I snapped next to his ear.

He froze before he held a chunk of tomato against my lips with an expectant expression on his face.

"The journal?" he asked.

I opened my mouth and let him feed me with a roll of my eyes. I finished my mouthful and nodded before adding onto my sentence.

"Yeah, but that's not what I'm talking about. I know where the grimoire is. Also, our plan involving the Saints squared is in effect in the living room," I said with a wink.

Damon's brows raised, and he dropped the knife with a hearty laugh. "The Saints Squared?" he asked in amazement.

I shrugged with a nod. "Suits them, don't ya think. Everyone thinks they're so damn perfect. Can you imagine what that must be like? I'd go mad under pressure!" I said, placing my hands on my cheeks.

I'd hate to live life feeling like I had to be perfect all the time. He shuddered dramatically, and I couldn't help but laugh. Damon drew my attention, my laughter ceasing when he spun on his heel, facing the doorway with a smirk.

"Hello, Elena," he said.

I stepped away from him and looked at my sister, whose arms were stationed across her chest, her big brown eyes judging me harshly. I groaned and maneuvered around my sister.

"I have an Aunt I need to make sure has sobered up, and then I have to pick up something from the store,"

Damon smiled at my excuse but kept his eyes firmly on Elena; it was enough to let me know he would keep her preoccupied. Not that he would find his job all that hard. I stepped out of the kitchen and found Jenna seated next to Stefan and Jeremy on the couch. My eyes zeroed in on the coffee table, where I was pleased to see the journal missing in action. I bit my lip to keep the smile from my face and patted Jeremy on the shoulder.

"Hey kiddo, get Jenna some Advil and a bottle of water. I need to get something from the store," I sighed.

Jenna protested, but Jeremy laughed, ignoring her half-hearted swats and semi-slurred words. Stefan looked up at me, eyes curious and a bit weary, but I smiled brightly.

"I saw someone got Damon to cook dinner. It's been a while since he put his skills to a less homicidal use," I whispered with a giggle.

Stefan's lips twitched, and he looked away, focusing on the TV again. "I'll be back in a bit," I said, grabbing my keys and jogging out the door.

Time to go dig up an asshole.

I drove as quickly as I could, heading towards the old cemetery where I knew Giuseppe Salvatore to be buried. As I pulled up beside the gate, I cut the engine and popped my trunk before I slipped out of the car. Digging in the back, I pulled out a flashlight and winced as I slammed the trunk closed, the sound echoing and seeming louder in the darkness. I pulled my jacket around me, listening to the crunching of the wet grass below my feet as I journeyed into the graveyard. I slowly repeated a silly mantra in my head to keep myself calm.

Zombies are not real, zombies are not real.

As the old fashioned tombstones came into view, I clenched my teeth and tried to keep the Thriller music video out of my head.

Come on, Elandra, you're over a thousand years old. Get a grip!

I pushed myself forward, shining my light on the tombstones as I came across them, heading deeper and deeper into the graveyard. Finally, towards the back, I found a worn stone, the edges chipped and words faded. I bent down, brushing my hand along the aged stone, dirt and crumpled leaves falling to the ground. It read; Giuseppe Salvatore.

Asshole extraordinaire is a more fitting moniker.

I sat my flashlight down and sighed, thinking over exactly what spell I needed to use. I needed to dig him up and then put all the dirt back, making the whole grave look once again undisturbed.

I nibbled on my bottom lip thoughtfully, then with a huff decided I would just pull the dirt up, then refill it and flattened the earth, making it look as it had before. It would exhaust me, but I had my Blackwood branch so I would be ok. I lowered my hand over his grave and scrunched up my face in disgust. This was not my idea of fun. I took a deep breath and let my power flow, slowly turning my hand as I felt my core flair with magic, a warm burning deep within. I opened my eyes and saw the electric blue light glow through my skin. The ground in front of me started to quake, breaking apart as the earth flew skyward. My other hand shot forward, stopping its travel, and I took a heavy breath as the dark soil froze in mid-air. My hands shook slightly as I began to maneuver it to my right so that I could have it all together for when I needed to return it later. I lowered it into a massive pile and looked at the hole I had successfully made with glee. I had done it. I stepped next to the hole, looking down.

A light brown wooden coffin rested below, a smattering of dark wet earth still covering the lid. Jumping down, I landed next to it and brushed off the dirt, the cold rough wood rubbed against my skin uncomfortably and I tried to ignore the sensation. I felt around the edges until I found a spot I could grasp, and started yanking up the side. Holding my breath, I pulled it open, moaning when I looked down at the skeleton of the man who had once helped kill me. In his arms was Emily's grimoire. I looked away, a thick lump in my throat, and gently pulled the book from his grasp. I tried to ignore the cold, slimy feel of the hard bone but couldn't hold back a gag. When I finally had the grimoire in my grasp, I sat it on the edge of the coffin and rubbed my hands down my jeans with a shudder.

Ugh...so disgusting!

I quickly slammed the coffin lid shut, shivering as I slipped out of the hole. I sat the spellbook next to me and lifted my hands, watching the dirt fly into the air again, and fill the hole. Once the coffin was covered, I waved my right hand, flattening the soil and making it appear as if I had never been here. I nodded in satisfaction when my work was done. I sent Damon a text, smiling and rolling my eyes when he sent back a bunch of heart emojis. I picked up the book and my light as I headed back the way I had come. My prize in hand.

On the way home, I stopped by the store and picked up a few things we had run out of as a way to maintain my cover story. So by the time I pulled up at my house, I had been gone for a little over an hour and a half. I quickly ran my hand over my clothes to cleanse them and placed the Blackwood branch back in my purse. I made sure the grimoire was in my bag and stumbled out of my car, closing my eyes as I shook my head roughly. I was a little weak from overexertion, but the branch had helped to restore most of my magic, and I was determined to fight through the rest of my weakness. I was getting tired of feeling so useless. I was supposed to be strong and powerful, and I needed to be. Shit was about to hit the fan. I was going to start training again. I ran inside, tossing my keys into the bowl by the door. I released a relieved breath when I noticed Elena and Damon were just now bringing the food in from the kitchen. I hadn't missed dinner. Hell yeah! I was starving. I took the groceries into the kitchen and rolled my eyes as I watched Damon deliberately bumping into Elena every chance he got. Well, I could have done without the flirting.

Was she the one digging up his father for him?

I grumbled under my breath as I went back into the dining room and slumped down into my seat, glaring at my sister as she laughed at Damon's actions. Damon placed a bowl on the table next to me, completely ignoring my existence as he focused on Elena. His eyes were hard as steel, and I realized they had been having a conversation right next to me. What was with me and zoning out today?

"Then you understand what I will do if anyone gets in my way," he threateningly told her.

Elena visibly gulped, and I couldn't stop the giggle that escaped me. They both shot me a look, Damon raised a brow and smiled while Elena glared hatefully. Damon walked away, leaving Elena alone with me.

She placed both hands on her hips and stared me down. "What are you doing, Elara? This game you are playing with him is going to get people killed. People we love!" she snarled.

I stood from my seat and placed a hand on the table, leaning closer to her. "No, what is going to get people killed is you and Stefan standing in our way. He needs to get in that tomb, Elena. It is the only way. I'd ask you to trust me, but it wouldn't make a difference, would it?" I asked, my eyes tearing up despite my anger.

Elena looked away, her hair falling into her face. The fact that she couldn't look at me was all the answer I needed. I had felt a smidgen of guilt for tricking her and Stefan. Still, the way they were going about things, and the fact that she was refusing to even trust me, her own sister, was enough to wipe it all away. I sat back down, my head falling forward.

"We're done here, Elena. You have made up your mind. Chose your side in this, and I've done the same. It's a pity really, all this time we're wasting," I said, my voice breaking off as I lowered my head into my hands.

Elena stood beside me in silence for a moment before turning around and walking away. I shook my head, frustrated tears spilling from my eyes. I brushed them away and placed my hands on my knees. There was nothing more I could do about our relationship right now. I had to do things this way. I knew what needed to be done to ensure the future went as smoothly as possible. Damon had suffered long enough. He deserved freedom, and this course of action would give him that. I shook off my melancholy as Damon and Elena brought out the rest of the food. Dinner was a stressful affair, my anxiety, and I held hands throughout the entire meal. Damon made sure to poke at Stefan and Elena the whole time. I basically inhaled my food just for the chance at a quick escape. As soon as I was done, I stepped out onto the front porch, the grimoire, still hidden in my bag. I sat down on the porch swing and held my bag against my chest, the massive indent of the grimoire, an oddly reassuring presence.

I pushed my legs back and forth as I swung. I let the cold night air clear my head, the breeze blowing the smell of honeysuckle and roses towards me from the garden at the back of the house. I slowly swung back and forth, the rhythm almost lulling me into a coma-like state, until I noticed a dark shadow blocking the light beside me. I turned my head and sighed when I saw Damon, Stefan, and Elena all huddled together near the open window. I inwardly groaned as I listened to Damon pestering Elena and Stefan about the journal. I couldn't help but smile when Stefan mentioned Alaric. Looked like he made it out of his encounter with the vampires alive. Good for him. I would need to introduce myself for what I really am sooner rather than later. I stopped swinging, the toes of my shoes scraping against the wooden porch when Stefan brought Jeremy into the conversation. I stood quickly and stepped back inside the house just as Damon was heading back towards the couch where Jeremy was sitting alone, Aunt Jenna having gone upstairs.

"No. Damon, leave him out of it!" Elena panicked, her eyes revealing the fact that she knew Jeremy had no idea where the journal was.

I wanted to pounce on her Ala cheetah and rip her to shreds. She had the nerve to accuse me of being the one who would involve the people we love. Yet, here she was willingly allowing Jeremy to be pulled into this even though she knew exactly where the journal was. I stood towards the back of their little group and crossed my arms, jaw tight.

"Why, what's the big deal?" Damon asked, shrugging his shoulders.

He was definitely enjoying this little game. I caught his eye for a moment and smiled briefly when their blue depths twinkled with mischief. I let out a relieved breath and lowered my arms, my defensive posture loosening. As long as he wasn't really planning on pulling my brother into the thick of things, I could let him have his fun. They deserved it, after all. I stepped up beside Jeremy, and Elena froze momentarily, her brown eyes widening.

"Damon, Elara!" she whisper-shouted, as only she could.

I cringed my ears protesting as my mind conjured up images of nails on a chalkboard. "Elena, calm down! Get a grip. Jeremy is going to be fine," I said.

I plopped down on the couch next to our brother, my arm draping over the back, and shared a loaded look with Damon, reminding him to tread carefully. Damon sat on the arm on the sofa, leaning close to Jeremy with his best attempt at a brotherly expression on his face. I chuckled under my breath, and placed a hand on my forehead, adding a new item to my mental checklist, 'Teach Damon how to be less creepy.'

"So...I heard you found a really cool journal from back in the day. Who else did you show it to?" Damon asked, trying (what I hope was not his best) attempt at nonchalant.

My chest shook lightly as I silently laughed. I was sincerely hoping this wasn't Damon really trying to gather intel because if it was, I felt terrible for him. I kept my eyes off my brother and was beyond proud when he didn't glance my way once. I had to give Jeremy credit, he had one hell of a poker face.

"Huh?" he asked, playing dumb.

Damon rolled his eyes, face hard. "Don't ask questions, just spill," he said.

I leaned across Jeremy and slapped Damon on the knee. Jeremy chuckled and looked between all four of us with guarded interest. "You're kidding me, right?" he asked, looking directly at me.

Elena started to speak, I assumed to ask Jeremy who else he had shown the journal to, but I held up my hand, stopping her mid-sentence.

"It's ok, Jeremy. You can tell us it's not a big deal. It's just…I guess that come to find out...that journal was a little more valuable than we originally knew." I half-heartedly explained, trying to convey with only my eyes that he shouldn't tell them about me.

Jeremy looked at me for a moment, his eyes scanning my face before he turned his head to look at Damon and Stefan, expression protective. He took my hand and gave it a tight, reassuring squeeze.

"Just this girl Anna," he said.

I released a breath I hadn't known I had been holding and squeezed Jeremy's hand in thanks. I could tell he no longer trusted the Salvatores, and I wasn't sure how I could remedy that right now, or if I even wanted to if I was being honest. The Salvatores had the potential to be extremely dangerous, and although I loved them, I didn't entirely trust them to protect my human family. In immortal years, they were young, and sometimes the decisions they made were lethal.

Jeremy's trust in the Salvatores wasn't my main concern right now, I had too many problems to deal with at the moment to add another, so, onto the mental checklist, it would have to go. At this rate, my list was going to be a few feet long.

Damon cocked his head in question. "The hot, weird one?" he asked.

I blinked a few times and tilted my body around so that I could see Jeremy. "The what?" I huffed.

Jeremy blushed and nodded quickly, a hand on his neck. "Yeah," he said.

Elena took the lapse in talking to step in front of Jeremy. She looked down at him in curiosity. "Wait, who is Anna?" she asked.

I leaned towards Jeremy and patted my knees excitedly. "What she said," I smiled, pointing my thumb at Elena.

Jeremy looked at all of us again, noticing all eyes on him, two sets of them anxiously awaiting his answer and huffed in exasperation. Before he could open his mouth, Elena's phone rang, and she yanked it out of her back pocket, glancing down at the screen. Her brown eyes blazed with annoyance for a second before softening as she answered, quickly catching my eye and pointing to Jeremy and Damon. I rolled my eyes and gestured for her to leave.

"How do you know her?" Damon asked Jeremy as soon as Elena headed up the stairs.

Jeremy looked away from our retreating sister and leaned against the couch. "I just know her. She wants to meet me at the Grill tonight," Jeremy said.

I smiled brightly and covertly winked at Damon. This would be the perfect way to meet Jeremy's mystery gal and get away from Elena and Stefan.

"Perfect," I said, clapping my hands.

Jeremy blinked rapidly, looking at me in shock. Damon stood, taking my hand as he did. "I'll drive. Come on," he said.

I grabbed Jeremy's hand and pulled him towards the door. "O-Okay," he said in shock.

I pushed Jeremy out the door and looked behind us, catching Stefan heading up the stairs towards Elena's room. I shook my head, a flare of betrayal stinging me. Even without super vamp hearing, I knew he was heading up there to tell Elena he was going to read through the journal and find out where the grimoire was. I looked away from the stairs and buried the feeling of betrayal, he was doing what he thought was best. Just as I was. I followed after Jeremy and hopped into Damon's car.

"You still with me, El?" Damon asked.

I turned my head towards him in confusion and saw the flash of fear and uncertainty in his eyes before he closed himself off again. I checked the backseat where my brother was staring out the window before I took Damon's hand and sent him a confident wink.

"Of course, I am. There's nowhere else I'd rather be," I chuckled.

Damon squeezed my hand, his cold skin raising the hairs on my arm. I cocked my brow and used my other hand to motion towards the ignition. "We gonna go?" I whispered.

Damon rolled his eyes and gave me his best cocky smile as he started the car. I moved my hand from his and placed it in my lap. I really didn't need to blur any more lines with Damon. Once we reached the Grill, Jeremy headed inside to find Anna. Damon and I stayed towards the back of the bar and waited. After a few minutes, Jeremy was joined at the pool tables by a short, long-haired brunette girl. Damon growled in recognition, and I froze in fear. If he recognized her, that could only mean one thing; she was a vampire. I focused on the girl and was shocked when her smiling face turned towards me, recognition instantly ignited within me, and my back became rigid with stress. I had seen her before, back in 1864. I knew her and her mother, Pearl, which was obviously why she was here now, flirting with my very human brother. Katherine might not be in the tomb, but I knew Pearl was.

Anna had another thing coming, though, if she thought she could use Jeremy to get her out. A Gilbert or not. She would not be using him for her revenge. I stood next to Damon, a silent sentinel throughout Jeremy's entire 'date' with Anna. When the night winded down, I texted Jenna, making sure she was sober enough to pick Jeremy up. I told her I had a few things I needed to do before I would be home. She was surprisingly ok with my late night to-do list, and for that, I was grateful. She told me she was okay to swing by to get him and I was glad to have at least one thing easily handled. Damon and I followed Anna's scent to a dingy Motel where Damon quickly stole Anna's room key. Once we were safely inside her room, I sat down next to him on the edge of one of the rumbled beds and waited, my eyes glued to the door.

"You know I could do this part on my own," Damon said.

I rolled my eyes towards the heavens and looked at him in annoyance. "Yeah, cause I'm just gonna leave you to deal with a much older vamp all on your own. That's not gonna happen," I said.

Damon smiled briefly, then held a finger to his lips, his blue eyes crinkling as he stood zooming behind the door. I slowly stood and crossed my arms. A low clicking sound came from the door, and Damon pressed his back against the wall, just as Anna came inside. Damon sped in front of Anna, taking her by the throat, and slamming her against the wall, taking her by surprise for only a moment. Before I could take control of the situation, Anna had grasped Damon by the throat, turning the tables on him, and she started to squeeze. Damon gasped in pain, choking from the strength of her grip. I sighed deeply and waved my hand, ripping the two vampires apart. They both went flying in opposite directions, slamming into the walls with loud gasps of pain and annoyance. I shook my head with a laugh and stood directly in the middle of the two. Damon was the first to sit up, leaning against his knees with a groan.

"Damn," he said, rubbing his neck. "You're strong for a little thing,"

I smirked, glancing at Anna, who was looking at me in pure shock. "How?" she finally managed.

I pointed at myself and shrugged. "Original witch, cursed, Reincarnate. Very long story," I said, shaking my hand in a blasé way.

Anna looked at Damon and started to laugh, her whole body shaking. Damon's face scrunched up in anger as he stood, moving towards the little vampire. I held up my hand, putting up a magical barrier between the two. It pulsed briefly, in a thunderous flash of light, before disappearing. Anna and Damon flinched, covering their eyes.

Damon banged his hands against the invisible wall of magic in anger, his blue eyes furious. "Whoa, moron slow down. I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed just because you're mad that she is laughing at you," I sighed.

Anna stood up and stepped closer to the barrier with a grin. "So, how are you enjoying having your ex-fiance around while you're trying to get your lover out of the tomb?" she sneered.

I lowered the barrier slowly, and stepped right next to Anna, tilting my head expression blank. I focused on her mind, smiling when she crumbled to her knees, screaming in pain.

"Listen here bitch, I already know why you're here and what you want. I know Pearl is in the tomb, but ya see, you have nothing we need, so if you don't want me staking your mother the first chance I get, then you need to stay the hell out of our way. That means leaving my brother alone," I said, letting up on the witchy migraine I was giving her.

Anna gasped, her pained sobs letting up. She looked up at me in confusion. "Your brother?" she asked.

I leaned closer to her and smiled. "Oh yeah, you don't know who I am this go around. Elara Gilbert at your service," I said, waving brightly.

Anna's face whitened considerably, and I could hear Damon chuckling darkly behind me.

"Yeah, Jeremy is my baby brother. Now I get your anger at the Gilberts, I do. I mean, Jonathan Gilbert helped kill me, but ya see, they are family now so I can't let you exact your revenge on any of them," I said, my voice firm.

I stepped past her and opened the door to her room. Damon joined me and looked down at Anna. "You heard everything she said, Anna. We work alone, and if I see you anywhere near the Gilberts, I will kill your mother myself," he said, stepping outside.

I glanced at Anna one last time and bit my lip. "I'll get her out, Anna. As long as you don't cross me. I never had anything against either of you, and your mother was a nice woman, but you go against my family or me, and you will regret it," I said.

Anna looked up at me, her brown hair falling into her eyes. Finally, she nodded. "You have a deal. Just save my mother," she whispered.

I placed a fisted hand over my heart and lowered my head. "Agreed. I'll call you when we open the tomb," I said, before turning and leaving the girl behind. I just hoped I made the right decision.

Once we were back in the car, Damon looked at me in confusion. "Are you really going to help her save Pearl?" he asked.

"As long as she keeps to her end of the deal. It's the right thing to do, Damon," I said, turning away from him. "Now, let's go deal with our Sainted siblings," I sighed.

Damon and I stood just out of view, watching Stefan shovel the dirt out of Giuseppe's grave. Elena stood beside the deep hole, the beam of her flashlight the only source of light in the darkness surrounding us. We were both shielded from detection by a magic barrier I had placed between our siblings and us. I watched in disappointment as Elena used the situation to joke with Stefan. She smiled down at him shaking her head.

"What?" Stefan asked.

Elena continued to shake her head in amusement. "Not many girls can say they've done this," she said.

I scoffed lightly next to Damon, tapping my foot on the ground. "Get a room, Elena," I whispered.

Damon placed a hand on my lower back and snickered. Stefan continued to dig until a loud thud interrupted his low grunting. I rolled my shoulders in anticipation.

"Finally, it's about damn time. It didn't take me nearly this long," I ranted.

Damon stepped closer to the barrier, his shoulders squared and watched his brother toss the shovel out of the grave. Stefan quickly started to wipe the dirt from the coffin as Elena knelt down, leaning closer to the hole to get a better look at what Stefan was doing.

"Hold the beam steady, Elena," Stefan said.

Elena nodded and held the light towards the grave with both hands. Stefan found an edge and started to pry the coffin open. Breathing heavily, Elena leaned forward with a gasp as the lid creaked open. I looked at Damon, and we both shared a smile.

"What? No, that's not possible. The journal said it would be here," Stefan sputtered.

I lifted my hand and lowered the barrier stepping out from the shadows with Damon by my side.

Well, what do you know?" Damon playfully said.

He cocked his head to the side and smiled down at his brother. I stepped up beside him and watched Elena closely, her brown eyes narrowed as she took me in with distaste. Stefan slammed the coffin lid closed and pulled himself from the hole, speeding in front of Elena. Damon sneered at his brother and turned to me with a smile.

"This is an interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say, Elandra?" he asked.

I looked at my sister with a frown, my head tilted. "Very interesting, Day. But sadly, I can't say I'm all that surprised," I said.

Stefan lifted his hands in supplication but kept himself firmly placed between the two of us and Elena. I wanted to laugh as if I would ever allow Elena to be hurt. Yet here he was, acting as if I were the enemy, all because I was siding with Damon.

"I can't let you bring her back. I'm sorry," Stefan said.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling gently in exasperation. I stepped closer to Stefan and leaned near him. "Listen to me, Stefan. Katherine is not in the tomb. She has never been in the tomb. Damon just needs to see that so he can move on. You need to give him that," I angrily said.

Stefan looked at me sadly as if I were a small child being tricked into believing in a fairy tale. "I'm sorry, Elandra, but I can't take that chance," he sighed.

Damon stepped in front of me, pulling me away from Stefan with a growl. "I can't believe I ever, for even a second, considered trusting you," he spat.

Elena whimpered lightly from behind Stefan, and I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

"Oh. You're not capable of trust. The fact that you're here means that you read the journal, and you were planning on doing this yourself," Stefan said triumphantly.

I tried to step around Damon but was held back by his tight grip on my shoulder. Both Elena and I were being pinned behind the feuding Salvatore brothers, and I was beginning to lose my patience.

"Of course, Elandra and I were going to do things on our own, because the only people we can seem to count on is each other! You made sure I couldn't count on you many years ago, Stefan." Damon stepped closer to his brother, blue eyes rolling with emotion, and pointed his finger at Elena. "But you...If I hadn't had your sister...you would have had me fooled," he sneered, a thick pain in his voice.

Elena turned away, hiding her ashamed and hurt expression behind Stefan's shoulder. I shook my head and took Damon's wrist, pulling him away from our siblings and hopefully offering him what little comfort I could.

"So what are you going to do now, Damon? Because you know I can't allow you to open the tomb," Stefan said, stepping closer to us.

Damon laughed, smirking at his brother as he watched Elena follow carefully behind Stefan.

"What are you going to do, Stefan? All we need to open the tomb is a witch, and that won't be too hard to accomplish," Damon said, watching his brother with an intensely hateful expression.

As Stefan inched closer and closer to Damon, I held my bag tightly against my side. I silently cast a spell that would prevent anyone but me from touching it. I knew Stefan was planning something, and I was getting antsy. Stefan and Damon continued to dance around each other, each fighting for dominance. I slowly tried to inch away from them, unknowingly giving Stefan the shot at me he had been aiming for.

Stefan vamp sped in my direction. Before I could even take a breath, he was biting into his wrist and bringing it to my lips, feeding me his blood. The coppery taste ran across my tongue as I tried to fight against him. But it was to no avail, and before I could think to use magic, I had given in and started to swallow. The blood falling down my chin as I gasped for air. The thick liquid inched down my throat, and I gagged, trying to turn my face away from him, but his fingers held my chin tightly. I could feel bruises starting to form and just prayed for him to stop. When I had accepted enough, he pulled finally away. I quickly wiped the remainder of the blood from my chin and mouth, disgusted by the man I had seen as a brother. I didn't think I would be able to forgive him for this. At least not for a very long time. Before he could make another move, I twisted around in his arms, smacking him as hard as I could, allowing the hurt and disappointment to show in my eyes. Stefan looked away quickly and without an ounce of emotion, wrapped his cold hand around my neck, pulling me beside him. My feet lifted from the ground as he dangled me in front of Damon.

"Give me the grimoire, or I will snap her neck, and we will see first hand if her curse is affected by vampire blood," he threatened. "Are you ready to play Russian roulette with El's life, Damon?"

I clawed at Stefan's fingers but otherwise tried my best to hide the fear that was welling up inside of me. I could see everything I had been working for swirling down the drain.

I didn't want to die. That was a heady thought for someone like me to have, someone who usually had no choice but to accept death. Now though, all I wanted to do was fight...and live.

Damon stood in front of me, helplessly watching as his brother held my life ransom. I caught his blue gaze and followed it to my bag and then back to Stefan. I could see his resolve grumble as he started to give in. After everything, he was going to give in to save me. A small whimper of fear and disbelief caught Damon's attention, and flickering of hope started to grow in his blue orbs. Stefan's body froze in fear, and I watched his eyes darken as he realized that unless he released me, there was nothing he could do to save her. His shoulders stiffened, and I was sure he hoped that he could somehow still save Elena and get the grimoire out of this whole ordeal.

He was a moron.

Hopelessly I watched as Damon sped over to my sister, taking her by the throat. He quickly ripped into his own wrist, feeding her his blood. Elena's face turned to me, eyes round with fear, her lips stained red, as Damon's blood spread through her system. I could see the moment the realization of what it could mean for her finally clicked. Tears began to well in her brown eyes, as her whole body began to shake.

Damons hand held her steady as he stared down his brother, crystal eyes moving from Stefan to me in quick succession. "I can do one better. Give me Elandra, or you will have a vampire girlfriend, brother," he sternly said.

I watched the whole scene play out in horror, Damon had fed Elena his blood. He had made the decision to do to her what had been done to him. It was so easy for them to play with immortality; for me, it wouldn't work, but for Elena, it would, and it would be an eternity she never asked for. One that would cause a monumental disaster.

Oh God! There was so much that would be lost if Elena became a vampire. I could see the death and destruction of everything, and everyone we loved flitter across my vision, and panic began to set in. I could feel power start to course through my veins, sending a burst of magic across my skin. The bright blue burst of light caught Damon off guard, and he dropped Elena in shock. My skin glowed, a beacon in the darkness, and Stefan gasped in pain when his skin started to sizzle as if he had touched an open flame. I felt my feet connect with solid ground and caught myself as I fell forward, my hands landing on the soft grass in front of me. Stefan stepped away from me as I stood, my whole body still glowing with light. I turned towards the vampire that had held me captive, and I raised my hand, closing my palm into a fist, pulling him towards me. Stefan flew through the air, his eyes wide with shock. I lowered him to the ground next to Damon and he collapsed onto his knees. I quickly made my way to Elena, the glow of my skin dimming into nonexistence. Elena, still shaking, watched me in fear, doe eyes large. It was so reminiscent of the time I had once healed her when we were children that I froze momentarily, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I raised my hands with a smile, trying to reassure that I never wanted any harm to come to her.

"Lena, I am so sorry. I never wanted things to go this way. We were supposed to talk and nothing more. Stefan went too far tonight," I said with a wince.

My head was beginning to pound, one of the least fun side effects of vampire blood.

Elena shakily stood and backed away from me, heading closer to Stefan. "Elara, this whole thing has gone too far, and nothing will change until Damon leaves town. He can't be allowed to get into the tomb," she said, as she lowered herself down next to her vampire.

I ran my hands across my forehead and felt a cold hand against my neck. I glanced behind me and found Damon staring at Elena and Stefan with disgust. I shook my head and let out an aggravated breath.

"Elena, you really have no clue how very wrong you are. Damon isn't going anywhere, and the tomb will be opened." I took Damon's hand and started towards the car. I turned my head back, watching my sister help Stefan stand, checking him over for injuries. "Maybe when the tomb is open, and you both see that what you should be worried about was never inside it, then we can all work together again. Because we will need to be united for what's to come." My eyes connected briefly with Stefan's, and I tried not to show precisely how saddened by his behavior I was. "Please make sure she is safe tonight. She cannot become a vampire," I said.

Elena's head shot towards me as Stefan's eyes filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Turning away, I allowed Damon to lead me to the car.

"You gonna explain what you meant by that?" he asked me.

I glanced up at him and shook my head. "Not until you're free of Katherine," I said, slipping into the car. I leaned against the cold glass of the window beside me and closed my eyes. Tomorrow I would be heading to the Bennett house to procure us a witch.

It was time to open the tomb.

[rosemaidenvixen]

Gruss vom Krampus

One night on patrol Jim experiences a case of mistaken identity.

Ao3

Jim vaulted the fence in a single leap and landed in a crouch in a snowbank, holding as still as he could. Sirens flared briefly before fading into the distance. He let out a sigh of relief, he should really be more careful when hunting down goblins in a suburb, but it looked like he was in the clear.

A soft whimper came from behind him.

Crap, spoke too soon.

Jim froze, the eclipse armor was good as a stealth suit, but only provided he didn’t start jumping around in it. That was pretty hard to miss. Holding the rest of his body perfectly still, Jim slowly turned his head in the direction of the sound.

Two-- no three, kids were huddled against the side of the house, practically shaking in their snow boots, eyes wide with fear.

Jim’s heart sank in a way that had become far too familiar in the past six months. There were obvious cosmetic differences between humans and trolls, and to the unfamiliar the latter could appear...intimidating, and the black-red glow of the eclipse armor didn’t help. 

He tried to swallow the unexpected tightness in his throat. These were just kids, the biggest one of them couldn’t be more than eight years old, and Jim was a seven foot tall, horned intruder in their backyard. There was no reason for him to be upset, it was perfectly natural for them to--

“....please don’t take us away Mr. Krampus…”

Wait, what?

Careful to stay in a crouched position, not wanting to frighten them any more than he already had. Jim turned to face them.

“Hi there,” he hoped his smile came off as friendly rather than bearing his fangs “What was that you just called me?”

They were silent for a few beats before a girl with dark curly hair took a step forward, it looked like she was the oldest of the bunch “You’re Krampus...aren’t you?”

Krampus? What was-- oh yeah, Krampus was the Christmas demon. He’d heard about that before, some kind of reverse Santa, punishing bad kids instead of rewarding good ones. 

Jim let out a sigh of relief. An easy mistake for a kid to make, with the horns and the black armor and all, at least the secret world of trolls wasn’t exposed.

He could work with this.

“Yep,” he sat back on a snow drift, stretching his legs out in front of him “I’m Krampus,”

The kids let out a chorus of wails, whimpering as they pressed themselves even harder against the wall of the house. 

Jim blinked. Oh, that’s right, Krampus punished kids...woops.

“But I’m not here to punish you guys!” he said hurriedly.

“You’re-- you’re not?” one boy sniffled.

“Nope, I’m just in the neighborhood, taking care of some...other naughty people, not any of you,”

“But…” the littlest one peeked past the others, a girl of about four or five, massive afro crushed under her glittery, pink hat “I ate the cookies that were for my grandma,”

“I lied to my mom,”

“I cheated on a test at school,”

“I took my best friend’s necklace without asking,”

Jim sat hunched in the snow while the elementary age group rattled off their ‘sins’ to him. How was he going to fix this? He really wished he was better with kids. 

What would Strickler say to them? Scratch that, what would his mom say?

“Ok...look,” he twisted his hands together “You know why doing those things was bad, right?”

They nodded.

“And,” he gestured toward the afro headed girl that had first confessed “You said sorry to your grandma right?”

She nodded “Yeah, and I helped make more cookies for her,”

Jim looked back towards the other two “And you all said sorry and tried to fix things to, right?”

They all nodded. 

“That’s what’s important, everyone makes mistakes and does bad things, but it’s ok as long as you apologize, help fix things, and try to do better next time,”

The kids whispered among themselves, slowly detaching from the brick wall of the house. 

“So, wait…” the bespeckled boy spoke up “If you don’t punish people for doing that stuff, what do you punish them for?”

Jim’s face went blank, he had not thought that far ahead into his ‘Krampus’ persona.

“You see I….” one of his feet tapped nervously against the ground “Stop people that are naughty...from....hurting other people,”

Seeing as how the kids weren’t screaming, Jim kept going “And if someone’s doing things that would hurt people and doesn’t stop or say sorry or try to fix things, that’s when I come in to stop them,”

Pink hat afro girl scurried up to him, eyes wide and curious “Like who?”

“Well...uh…” Jim struggled to come up with something to tell them, improv was not his strong suit “There was once this really bad guy named Gunmar...”

That was how Jim found himself retelling a heavily edited version of the battle of eternal night to three kids while sitting in a snowbank at nine o clock at night. By the end the kids, whose names he learned were Marisol, Liam, and Veronica, were practically sitting on top of him, Veronica’s pink hat dangling from one of his horns. 

“...and so with my friends helping me we were able to lock Morgana up in Shadow jail,”

“Whoa…” Liam whispered, eyes wide with awe, expressions mirrored by Marisol and Veronica.

“Yep,” Jim said while getting up to his feet “That’s how it happened,” he handed the sparkly pink hat back to Veronica, who wasted no time in shoving her afro into it.

Jim was glad he’d been able to calm them down, but now that he’d thought about it for a while, something was bugging him.

“So what are you guys all doing outside so late at night?”

Marisol sheepishly pointed at a large, but crumbly looking mound of snow “We were trying to build a wall so we could keep you out,” she flushed and looked down at her snow boots “Sorry,”

All Jim could do was stare at the sad looking pile of snow that couldn’t even stop a racoon, much less a troll like him. Maybe things had changed since he was a little kid, but as far as Jim remembered, building snow walls to keep out demons was not a typical holiday activity. 

“Why were you doing that?”

“Emily told us it would work,”

Jim raised an eyebrow at that “Emily?”

“Our babysitter,” Liam held out a small box “She told us about you and showed us the movie,”

Curious, Jim reached out and plucked up the offered box. It was a DVD case titled ‘A Christmas Horror Story’ showing a staff wielding Santa Claus facing off against a tall chain-swinging, horned figure that-- ok the movie actually looked pretty cool, he was definitely going to have to show it to Toby later. But it was rated R, these kids were way too young for that. 

“So Emily, your babysitter, showed you guys this movie and then told you to go outside and build a snow wall to keep Kr-- me out?”

The trio nodded.

Jim frowned “No one’s going to come attack you guys, not me or anyone else, Emily shouldn’t have told you that, and it was really...not nice of her to scare you like this,”

Marisol’s eyes widened “Are you going to...punish her?”

“No,” Jim stepped around the side of the house, looking for the breaker box “I’m just going to have a talk with her,”

*

“Great job getting rid of the rugrats,”

Emily giggled and plopped down on the couch next to Jacob. Scaring the twerps with that movie and sending them outside to build a wall to keep ‘Krampus’ out was the best idea she’d ever had. She’d barely been able to keep from laughing the whole time. Now they were free to make out on the couch while the munchkins were out digging the snow for the rest of the night.

Leaning back, she cuddled even closer to Jacob “So where does your mom think you are?”

He smirked and wrapped an arm around her “In the dorms working on my thesis, that should get me out of any holiday dinners this year,”

Emily grinned “Perfect,” she licked her lips and moved in for a kiss, Jacob puckered up and prepared to meet her.

Suddenly all the lights shut off, plunging the room into darkness and causing them to freeze in their pre kiss. 

“Is this a blackout?” Jacob said while propping them both up into a sitting position.

A quick glance out the window revealed that the sparkling red and green Christmas lights of the houses on either side of them were still lit.

“I don’t think so, none of the other houses are dark,”

Squirming uncomfortably, Emily pushed herself up off the couch “C’mon, there should be some flashlights in the kitchen,”

Jacob stood and followed her as she headed over to the next room. She reached out and was about to turn the knob when she heard a loud clang coming from within. 

Her heart skipped a beat. She whipped back towards Jacob “Did you hear that?”

His wide eyes and pale face told her that he most certainly had. Not saying anything, Jacob slowly reached into the duffle bag behind the couch and pulled out two baseball bats, wood and aluminum. He gripped the wooden one firmly and soundlessly passed the aluminum one to her. 

Emily gave him a quick nod of gratitude before gently grasping the knob and easing the door open. 

“Marisol? Liam? That you in there?”

No reply.

Pulse pounding in her ears, Emily slowly stepped into the kitchen, Jacob on her heels, scanning the room for axe wielding maniacs. 

The room appeared empty, save for the table and chairs swathed in shadows.

No serial killers in sight.

Emily was about to sigh in relief when the door slammed shut behind them. Causing them both to jump and let out a shriek.

“I hear you’ve been talking about me,” a gravelly voice snarled.

An enormous figure stood by the door. It was too dark to see him clearly, but glowing red lines running down his arms and legs pulsed through the shadows and let them know exactly how massive he was. Emily squinted, what was wrong with his he--

“You want to know what’s really naughty?” the figure stalked towards them, moving slowly but with deliberate purpose “Purposefully scaring kids that you’re supposed to be taking care of,” 

Emily felt the blood drain from her face as the figure came into view. He looked different than in the movie and the pictures she’d seen online, but there was no mistaking those horns. 

Krampus. 

The real Krampus.

Instinct took over and she swung the bat at his temple with all her might. 

He caught the bat in his hand without so much as flinching.

A shudder coursed through her as Emily started trembling all over. From the corner of her eye she could see Jacob doing much of the same.

Oh god, she told the kids about Krampus just to scare them and now the real Krampus was here and she and Jacob were going to die here like dumb teenagers in a bad slasher film and--

Krampus snorted and released the bat. It slipped from Emily’s limp grip and fell to the floor with a metallic clang.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time, but if you pull something like this again,” he let out a low growl “I won’t be as understanding. Got it?”

Somehow Emily still had enough of her faculties left intact to nod slowly.  

“Good,” Krampus gave them a smile that would have been threatening enough even without exposing his sharp teeth “You all enjoy the rest of your night,”

With that Krampus turned and left, shutting the kitchen door behind him. Emily and Jacob didn’t move an inch the entire time, fear rooting them in place. After a few minutes the lights flicked back on.

Less than ten seconds later Jacob dropped his bat and started bawling. Emily sank to the floor, feeling as hot and limp as an overcooked noodle. The raw terror slowly draining away formed its own kind of numbness, like warm, lumpy oatmeal slogging its way through her veins.

She was faintly aware of Jacob fumbling for his phone while scampering in the direction of the front door.

He punched at the screen with his thumbs and raised it to his ear just before heading out the door “H-- Hello, Mom? I-- I-- I’m sorry, I’m not working on my thesis-- I lied...” 

His words trailed off in a sob as the door shut behind him, leaving Emily alone in the house. Kneeling on the kitchen floor, staring at the four, perfect finger shaped dents in the aluminum bat.

*

Jim flipped the master switch of the breaker box back into place, brightening the dark house.

It looked like things were pretty well taken care of here. But he really had to get back and regroup with the others.

He turned towards the three kids “So remember guys, anytime you think someone is trying to scare you with a story like that, tell your parents. They’ll know for sure if it’s true or not,”

Jim paused, feeling like he should add onto that “And if you see anymore...magic...creatures like me, be careful, not all of us are nice, ok?”

“Uh huh,” 

“Yep,”

“Yes,”

“Good,” he headed back towards the fence “I need to take off now so--”

He was caught off guard by Veronica running up to him and hugging him around the legs. Effectively holding him hostage despite their vast differences in size and strength “Thanks for visiting Mr. Krampus,”

Touched and more than a little flustered, Jim attempted to return the gesture by giving her a soft pat on the back “Happy to help, you guys take care now,”

Veronica released his legs, allowing Jim to jump to the top of the fence, swinging a leg over the top, getting ready to leave.

Marisol, Liam, and Veronica waved goodbye from the snow filled backyard.

“Bye, Merry Christmas,” Marisol shouted out to him, parroted by Liam and Veronica seconds later.

“Merry Christmas,” Jim called back with a wave, with that he turned and leapt off the fence, taking off into the dark, snowy night.

A/N: A Christmas Horror story is a real movie and one I highly recommend, but definitely not for kids.

The scene at the end was based on what happened to me when I helped out with the Christmas party in my mom's kindergarten class. I spent the whole time decorating cookies with them and as I was about to leave, one of the kids ran up and hugged me. It definitely caught me off guard, but I was pretty touched.

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 24: A Stranger Among Us (Transcript) - 28th December 2015

tw: death, gore, death of children, disease

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

Folklore is a living thing. In many ways, the stories we tell and the lessons we pass on are like a tree - the branches reach out into generations and cultures, sometimes in obvious ways, and other times reaching surprising new places. One good example of this would be of the folklore surrounding small fairy people that we’ve discussed here before. Pukwudgies, trolls, goblins, puka and dozens of similar variations are scattered across the world with amazing consistency and reach. How or why is something we’ll probably never fully understand, but it shows us how folklore can spread, how it can migrate, and how it can build upon the past. At the same time, though, folklore has roots, and they run deeper than we might expect. Some stories that we still whisper about in the dark today have crossed the lips of people for centuries, and in some cases, millennia. When I hear a story for the first time or discover a new collection of tales that have been widely distributed, I often stop and ask myself the same questions: where did it come from? What lies at the bottom of the narrative? What are its roots? Outside of Halloween, there is no other time of the year (at least for European cultures, that is) where folklore rushes to the forefront of everyone’s lives with such significance, such power, and such ease as the Christmas season, and rightly so. There is so much there to unpack and explore: the tree, the gifts, the food, and the nocturnal visit from a stranger, one who has seemingly stalked our lives all year long, and yet we blindly welcome into our home. And if there’s one lesson that folklore has taught us over the centuries, it’s to beware of strangers – they aren’t always who they seem to be. I’m Aaron Mahnke and this is Lore.

When we think of coal in our stockings and food and drink left out for a visitor, we rarely pair those ideas with the image of a woman flying through the air on a broomstick, but in Italy there are those who still tell the story of La Befana. Befana’s story has been told since at least the 13th century, originally connected with the Christian feast of the Epiphany. But while many people have never heard of her, the details of her story are eerily familiar. During her visit, Befana was said to enter homes through the chimney. She’s typically depicted carrying a basket or bag full of gifts, but is also known to leave behind a lump of coal or a single stick for children who fail to behave during the year. Before leaving each home, Befana would sweep the floor with her broom, something scholars see as a metaphor for sweeping away the deeds of the previous year, and then she would eat the food left out for her – oftentimes sausage and broccoli. Side note: cookies and milk sound so much better, don’t they? Interestingly enough, Befana is not the only Christmas legend with a passing resemblance to a witch. In the German Alps, there have been stories of another female figure dating back to the 10th century. Some call her Perchta or Berchta, or later Bertha. Jacob Grimm, while researching his Deutsche Mythologie, theorised that she was one of the ancient Germanic mother goddesses. She and her sisters were said to have taught humanity the arts of agriculture, spinning wool and cooking. Over time, though, her legend began to integrate with parts of the Christmas season. Because of her role in teaching humanity the basics of home management, Perchta’s meaning began to shift over the centuries, turning her into the punisher of those who worked during the holidays, failed to feast properly and, much later, hunting down the lazy, and what better time for her to conduct an end of year review, so to speak, than Christmas? Just how did Perchta dish out her punishment on the people of Germany? Well, a hint can be found in her other popular title: the belly-slitter. During the 12 days of Christmas, she would travel through the towns and inspect the people’s behaviour. If they had followed the rules and done right in her eyes, they were rewarded. If they had not been good, though, she was known to have a very nasty side. Anyone disobedient enough to warrant punishment, adult or child alike, would have their stomachs ripped open. Perchta would scoop out whatever might still be inside, pull out the full length of their intestines, and then stuff the victim’s belly with garbage, straw and rocks. While a stomach full of refuse might seem… a little over the top, that distinction actually goes to another ancient female in folklore.

While stories of Grýla, the mythical giant goddess, are far outside the common narrative of Christmas for many of us, for the people of Iceland she is still a whispered source of dread among children. One of the earliest mentions of Grýla dates back to the 13th century collection of Icelandic mythology known as the Edda, written by Snorri Sturluson. According to the many stories told about her over the centuries, Grýla possesses the ability to locate disobedient children. She can do this year-round, so they say, and because of that she was often used as a parental tool to coerce children into doing what they were told. It was in the Christmas season, though, that Grýla became even more monstrous. That was when she was said to climb out of her home in the mountain and make her way toward the towns. She would hunt far and wide for all the naughty children and then take them back to her cave. Once there, she would cut them up, place them in her stew, and devour them. And, according to the legend, she never ran out of food.

There have been other stories of strangers told throughout the centuries, but not all have happy endings. In fact, there is often more loss than gain when it comes to the visits of some of those legends. In the northern Alps, stories have been told for generations about the travelling stranger known as Belsnickel. Considered to be one of the helpers of Saint Nicholas, Belsnickel travels ahead of the big, red man and dispenses his own form of Christmas cheer – with physical abuse. Descriptions of Belsnickel liken him to the wild men of old, with torn and dirty clothes fashioned from animal skins and furs, and a face that is covered in a snarled, filthy beard. Some stories report that he wears a mask with a long tongue protruding from the mouth. According to the legend, which spans centuries in both Germany and the American state of Pennsylvania, Belsnickel would enter the home of a family and scatter nuts and sweets on the floor for the children to collect. And then, with their backs to him, he would lash out with a switch made of hazel or birch, whipping their backs and leaving red marks. And Belsnickel isn’t alone – another travelling stranger from the same region, one who has seen a rise in popularity around the globe, is a creature known as Krampus. At first blush, Krampus sounds similar in many ways to the other strangers in European folklore, but what sets him apart is truly frightening. It is said that Krampus visits the homes of children during the Christmas season, but he doesn’t have a dual nature – there is no reward or special treat when he comes to town. No, his sole purpose and passion in life is to dole out punishment on children who have failed to obey and do their work. Like Belsnickel, he too carries a switch, but in most stories there are more than one. Apparently, he beats so many children that he needs a few spare branches, so he carries them in a bundle. In addition, he is often depicted wearing chains and some form of large sack or cart because ultimately, Krampus isn’t as interested in beating children as he is in taking them. When he arrives in each legend, we are greeted by the appearance of a wild, demonic creature with long horns, cloven feet and a twisted face. After beating the disobedient children, Krampus chains them up and tosses them into his sack before vanishing as quickly as he came, taking the children with him back to hell.

The origins of Krampus are still unclear, but some scholars think that the legend predates Christianity. Instead, they believe that the story has roots in an ancient alpine myth of a horned god of the witches. Even the switch, his weapon of choice, might have been a carry-over from the initiation rites of witches, where the novices were beaten. Far from forgotten, festivals are held throughout Europe to this day that feature many of these legends; events like Krampusnacht in Germany and the Befana festival in Urbania attract tens of thousands, who dress in masks and dance and celebrate. Like Halloween, these are instances where monsters and strangers have been embraced and elevated to something of a children’s story, which is ironic when you understand the roots. Stripping away the detail, Krampus has (from a 30-thousand-foot view) more than a passing resemblance to Pan, the Greek horned god of nature, shepherds, flocks, and mountains. Along with his musical flute, Pan is often known for robbing the innocence from people, usually through sexual means. In a culture that saw the threshold between childhood and adulthood as the loss of virginity, Pan figuratively stole people’s children, and when you think of it that way, it’s more than easy to see similarities, not only between Krampus and Pan, but also between Pan and a character that Disney has helped us all fall in love with: Peter Pan. While he might be able to fly, has no horns and is missing the cloven feet that Pan sports in every image and statue, Peter Pan fulfils the role perfectly. He arrives at night, he carries a flute and lures our children away to another place. It��s a modern story with a familiar ending, but it was far from the first of its kind. That honour, according to some, falls to a small German village in 1284. You might already know the story, but the truth beneath it is far worse than you’d ever expect. In 1284, the German village of Hamlin was struggling with an infestation of rats. Now, I’ve only seen a few rats myself over years, but I also don’t live in a densely populated urban area like New York City or London. But in medieval Europe, from what I can gather, rats were as abundant as squirrels, only bigger and more disease-ridden. It’s hard to imagine the impact that an infestation of rats could have on a town today. If we found a half-eaten bag of flour in the cupboard, there’s a grocery store down the street where we could get more, year-round. But in the Middle Ages, food was grown locally and used throughout the year. If rats ate and ruined the food supplies, there was little a town could do - rats meant death in many instances. According to the story that has been passed down through the centuries since then, a stranger entered Hamelin in the Spring of 1284. He was dressed in colourful clothing, possessed what we might call today as a “silver tongue”, and claimed to have a very unusual, although also very timely, skill – he was a rat catcher. As a profession, rat catching dates back centuries, but it’s rarely seen as a safe and sanitary job. The risk of being bitten or contracting some disease carried by the rats has always been a hazard of the job, and while the exact nature of their involvement has been up for debate for decades, most scholars agree that rats have been key players in the spread of plague - particularly the Black Death of the 14th century, and there were few truly effective tools at their disposal, which made the job that much more difficult. Some rat catchers used a special breed of terrier while others made use of traps, but the most effective tool for centuries was also the most minimal and inexpensive of them all, bare hands - and seeing as how most rats prefer to stay hidden inside dark places, this was a risky technique. The motivation for it all, though, was the meritocracy of it; the more you caught, the more you earned, and while there’s no documented proof of this rumour, it’s been whispered for centuries that rat catchers would sometimes raise their own rats in captivity and then turn them in as part of the job, inflating their numbers and then their pay. This allowed them to pad their pay checks when business was slow, and it also earned them a shady reputation. As a side note, one of the most famous rat catchers in London’s history was a man named Jack Black, who claimed that his black-tan terrier was the father of all the black-tan terriers in London, and who pioneered the art of breeding rats and keeping them as pets. He even wore an outfit made entirely of scarlet cloth, with a big, wide sash across his chest that had two cast iron rats on it. He was probably also a riot at parties, but I can’t confirm that – just a hunch.

The man who walked into Hamelin that June wasn’t any less of a character, if the legends are to be believed. He wore an outrageous outfit, although his was reportedly one of multicoloured fabric that was known back then as “pied” (which was typically a sort of blotchy pattern), and he carried a tool that no other rat catcher claimed to use - a flute - and the mayor of Hamelin trusted the man. Maybe it was the not-so-subtle allusion his appearance made to the ancient stories of the god Pan, a deity who tended flocks of animals and played a flute; maybe it was the man’s marketing ability, that silver tongue and outrageous outfit; perhaps he overpromised and won the mayor’s approval - whatever the reason, this stranger was said to have struck a deal. He would catch all the rats in town, he told the mayor. He would lead them out of the town and away from their lives and he would do this, he said, with his musical instrument, a pipe that he claimed would lure them away. Now, I don’t know about you, but I would have been sceptical. The mayor, though, was desperate. Sure, they haggled over the price, but in the end the stranger won. The exact amount of money differs from version to version of the story, but in all of them it’s an exorbitant sum, and that’s the point. Hamelin was so desperate that they were willing to overpay for a solution, and then he got to work. According to all the stories, and even the children’s tales we were raised on, the piper picked up his flute and began to play. As if driven by some magical force, all of the rats in Hamelin scuttled out of their hiding places and began to crowd around him; streams of them, thousands of them, all writhing in a mass at his feet. Then, when it seemed like they had all come out, he marched out of town and down to the Vesser river. The stories say that he was beyond successful. Most accounts say that all but one of the rats drowned in the river that day. Hamelin’s troubles were over, for a while. You see, the piper returned later to collect his money - he had done the job they had hired him to perform, the rats were gone, but for some unknown reason, the mayor refused to pay him. Now, the stories don’t say why, but we can speculate. Maybe it was because the stranger didn’t return with any bodies to show for his work, as was the custom for a rat catcher. How could the town pay him per head when there were no heads to count? At any rate, the mayor turned the stranger away and the man, clearly taken advantage of, stormed out of the village, but not before turning to face the people of Hamelin and proclaim a curse on them. He would return one day, he said, and when he did, he would have his revenge. Remember, this is a story that has been passed down for 800 years - most of what we know about the real events is pure legend, based loosely on scattered reports of a stained-glass window in the church there, in Hamelin. The window itself was lost in 1660, but there a drawings of it that predate the destruction as far back as the 14th century, and the earliest mention of these events is a 1384 entry in the Hamelin town records. The events were recorded, of course, because the stranger did return. According to the story, though, he changed clothing, trading in his colourful robes for the uniform of a hunter. Gone was the salesman; the stranger was returning for vengeance. While the adults were in church on June 26th, the stranger strode into town and began to play his flute again. This time, rather than crowds of writhing rats, it was the children who clambered out of the houses. They flooded the streets, gathering around the strange visitor, and then, when they were all present, he marched them out of town, never to be seen again. There are, of course, a number of morals to this story, but the one that has stuck with us for centuries remains ever-true: never trust a stranger.

Folklore is full of strangers. In many stories, it’s flat-out amazing just how much freedom we have given them in our lives. Even stories of someone as benign as Santa Claus have an element of danger when you view them from outside cultural fishbowl. Here’s the story of a strange man who stalks our children year-round, noting their behaviour and secret desires, who then breaks into our homes, eats our food, and leaves a few presents to prove that he was there. For the people of Hamelin, though, that stranger cost them far more than a plate of cookies. Their ill treatment of the man who came to town led to the loss of their children, and as difficult as it is to believe, the story of Hamelin is true – part of it, at least. Scholars are in agreement that the rats were a later addition to the tale, showing up about 300 years after the events were said to have taken place. But as far back as the records go, there has always been a stranger, a visitor from the outside, who leaves with the children, and although it’s taken a very long time to figure out why, some historians think they have the answer. To understand the truth, they say, we first have to understand the political culture that Hamelin found itself in. In 1227, about 50 years prior to the events of Hamelin, a battle took place on the border between what was then the Holy Roman Empire and Denmark, pushing the Danish border north of modern-day Germany. As a result, a whole new territory opened up that needed colonists. Men called “locators” were assigned to travel the land and find volunteers to populate this new territory, who often wore colourful clothing. They were eloquent speakers. They were, in a sense, a lot like today’s door-to-door salesmen. The empire needed farmers and craftsmen and soldiers to protect these new lands, but it was hard to find people willing to uproot their lives and travel north, especially when that new land was alongside a contested, military-heavy border. It was a hard sell, and so when the locators came knocking, rather than shipping off a handful of adult volunteers, townsfolk would sometimes get creative. Instead of paying with their own lives, they would sell their children to these men. The proof, it turns out, is in the phonebook, and on Google maps. Many town names along a line between Hamelin and Poland bear a striking resemblance to town names from medieval Germany, oftentimes even showing up more than once. Even more compelling, surnames from the 1284 Hamelin town records still show up in phonebooks in Pomerania, a region of Poland along the Baltic sea. The folklore, you see, tells a colourful story, one that’s as easy for children to swallow as a spoonful of honey, but the truth that the story hides turns out to be far less palatable. An entire town, desperate for a solution to their economic and social challenges, actually sold their children off to recruiters hoping to colonise new lands. It’s a plot reminiscent of M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village, in that these people constructed a fantasy around certain events, and then passed that lie on to later generations in order to justify their actions and avoid questions. In the end, an outsider did indeed come to Hamelin that day, but he wasn’t the one who took the children. No, it turns out that the true monsters were already there, living in the house next door, shopping in the market, farming the fields. The most dangerous stranger, it seems, isn’t the outsider – it’s the one that hides among us.

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When it comes to assumptions and myths about dryads, one of the funny ones is that dryads are happy-go-lucky creatures that are always cheery and prone to frolicking. It is kind of weird how many people believe that about our kind. Do we truly come off that way to others, or is optimism and smiling truly that rare in those parts? Sure we are pretty upbeat about things, but I never would have thought that we would give off such an impression. I guess that would make me guilty of spreading such a belief, as I am usually a pretty happy, cheery person. I am not carefree and joyful because I am a dryad, I just tend to find a good thing in every situation. I have also learned that complaining often does very little to change things when working in my field. You can bellyache all day about how hard it is to climb a mountain in pursuit of trolls, but at the end of it all, the mountain is going to make itself easier for you. Regardless, it seems to be a widely accepted belief, save for an exception. This is what makes this idea kind of funny, because a lot of people see dryads as happy little flowers, but those same people are very much aware of Conifer dryads and do not find them cheery folk in the slightest.   Conifer dryads have many unique things about them, and one of the biggest is where they live. Their species can be found in cold environments, often arctic tundras and coniferous forests. While many other dryads despise the chilly weather, they do just fine in a world of heavy snowfall and freezing nights. Another thing that makes them stand out is their size. Conifer dryads are one the the tallest of our kind, with adults reaching about eleven to twelve feet in height. Even their sapling share this incredible size, as they are three feet tall when the emerge. Their height is gained from long limbs, which are quite useful for walking through deep snow and climbing the massive trees that make up their forests. Their "conifer" title comes from their pinecone-like head cap and the green needles that cover their arms and legs. With large, thick plates, the head cap of a Conifer dryad serves as hefty armor for them. It helps protect them from falling ice from the branches high above, enemy attacks and projectiles that may be aimed at their heads. The sharp needles on their limbs serves as defense from predators and attackers, making it difficult for foes to climb up their legs without getting stabbed. To go with their natural growths, Conifer dryads often wear garments made of lichens and moss. Some claim they help warm them, but I can't see how such thin, sparse things could do anything against the freezing winds! Due to their preferred habitat, Conifer dryads are a nomadic species. They move with the seasons, relocating their camps through the forests and plains in order to keep close to a steady food source. Herds of prey are key to this cycle, as they provide the meat and furs they use to last the long, harsh winters. The dwellings of these dryads are made of leather, fallen branches, stones and bone. These huts of theirs are made to be collapsible and transportable, so that they may take them along during the migrations. Oddly enough, these dwellings are often wide and short, which would seem unfitting for such a tall species. Well it turns out that adults hardly spend any time within these houses, only going in them to rest. It is the saplings who hide within these huts, and they do not need nearly as much ceiling space. For adults, they are perfectly fine with crawling in these short doorways. Another reason these huts are so short comparatively is that they do not obstruct the dryads' line of sight. Ever vigilante, the Conifer dryads like to be well aware of their surroundings, and buildings as tall as them would block their view and give the enemy a place to sneak up from.

As I mentioned before when talking about dryad cheeriness, Conifer dryads are the exception to this rule (though not really since it is a false belief, but anyhoo). Their attitudes are much like the places they live, cold and serious. Due to the extreme weather and low temperatures, their kind cannot afford to waste time and energy on frivolous things. What matters to them is food, fur and the forest. They must make sure that their food stores are full and that they have enough warm garments for cruel winters ahead. The woods they call home is also vital, as it offers protection, a place to stay and is the burial ground of their ancestors. With all these concerns combined, Conifer dryads can come off as a harsh and hostile species. They do not like to waste time with outsiders, especially since these strangers would most likely try to take some of their resources. Even walking through their territory is enough to gain their irritated attention, as they become suspicious of an attack and are also peeved about all the game that was chased away by the intruder's blundering. Even other dryads can be met with this distaste, I know I have! When I went out to find a group that would allow me to stay close and study them, it turned out that they found me first! Apparently my intrusion was noticed and a whole squad of them dropped from the trees and surrounded me! The dramatic entrance knocked me off my roots! Immediately they wanted to know what I wanted, and I told them. They then told me to go elsewhere, as they didn't want to be bothered by my "foolishness." I tried to convince them, but apparently this annoyed them further, as one of the sisters grabbed me by the pack and hauled me off like a naughty dog. I was tossed into a snow bank and it was then that I decided to try and find a different group to befriend. Though us dryads can get a cold shoulder from their kind, other species can get it even worse. Humans are the best example of this, as Conifer dryads absolutely despise them. This is mainly due to human settlements and lumber companies moving in to chop down trees for their own uses. The pines that grow in these frozen forests are massive in size and tough in composition, which makes them prized for ship masts and sturdy homes. At the same time, these giant trees are ancestors to the Conifer dryads, and they will not let an ax even touch their bark. Yes, other dryad species are not fans of lumbering and forest cutting, but we do not protest these activities in such a...violent manner. Those who come to their forests with plans of lumbering and chopping will be met with extreme lethal force. The tales of such encounters and battles can be quite chilling, even to the likes of me! Workers found dead in the frozen branches above, horses and riders shish-kebobbed by ten-foot long spears and entire lumber camps wiped off the face of the earth. Their violent response to these harvesting attempts have made Conifer dryads famous. Those who live up north will steer clear of any forests inhabited by them and they often craft their goods from anything besides wood. These precautions are smart, as Conifer dryads are powerful fighters and great hunters. Their long limbs allow them to throw out sweeping blows, and they also add range to their weaponry. Though they look thin, they are quite strong and are capable of lifting a human-sized opponent up with a single hand. Their stone blade weapons allow them to take out foes from afar, but don't underestimate their close combat skills! I have literally seen one of these dryads punt a charging wolf across the woods, and the poor thing didn't have a good landing. Another thing to keep in mind is their armored head cap. While it serves as great defense, it also can be used for a bludgeoning weapon. Turns out that Conifer dryads like to headbutt things during hunts and battle. It may sound silly, but they can crack a skull wide open with one of these blows. There are even stories of great conifer hunters who could knock an arctic dragon out cold with an attack like this. After what I have seen, I think I can believe that! While Conifer Dryads do come off a bit cold and mean, they are not strangers to warmer feelings. You can see this anytime one of these hardened warriors is with their saplings. Though they can be strict teachers and parents, they do spend time with their offspring and can find joy in their silly antics. In fact, a large chunk of their hunting and gathering is used to collect food and furs for their young. Unlike their mothers, Conifer saplings are not able to withstand such cold temperatures and brutal winds alone. Instead, they are bundled up in thick furs and hides to keep warm, and they tend to hide within the huts to avoid the harsh weather. In most cases, outsiders will never see a Conifer sapling, as they remain indoors while their parents keep watch over the village. And don't think you can just walk into one of these dwellings to see them, as Conifer dryads are very protective of their young. In fact, it took me two weeks to earn enough trust for me to even be near on of their saplings. Even after spending a few months with them, I was never allowed to enter the huts where the saplings slept. I couldn't even look at the dwelling for too long, as that would earn me a wooden smack on the noggin from a peeved mother.   Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian