Title: The Crow and The Falcon   [revised May 2001]
Author: Red 
E-Mail: redster at ttales dot net
Rating: 15 
Spoilers: The Vampire Diaries (Mostly Dark Reunion - totally 
gives away the end of it, and the end of The Fury for that 
matter).

Summary: After five centuries of hatred, an uneasy bond has 
formed between the vampire brothers, Stefan and Damon. Together 
they move on to a new town, a new start, and new friends. But 
evil threatens them and the lives of the students of Redditch 
High. All that stands between it and it's ultimate triumph are 
the motley crew of teenagers. And they all depend on one 
thing....Can Stefan and Damon truly overcome their differences 
and stand together...?

Disclaimers: The Vampire Diaries and the characters therein belong
to L.J. Smith. However, I promise to return all characters in a
relatively healthy state, and to treat them nicely. *evil cackle as
it gets Damon into it's grasp*...ahem.

Consider this and the books to be set a couple of years or so
*after* LJS set them. Just for the sake of preserving the time line
in the real world and making my cultural references valid. XD

/italics/ (also doubles as the bad guy communication, bad me, but it
shouldn't be too confusing)
*thoughts*
((telepathy))




The Crow and The Falcon. (Prologue)

The rain spattered against the grimy window pane, and water trickled
in through a hole in the glass, pooling on the inside sill. The odd
gust of wind blustered in through the same hole, causing the candles
that sat in the middle of the wooden floor to flicker, almost
guttering out. Two figures sat hunched over a battered old book,
muttering quietly to each other. A perfectly manicured female finger
marked a place in the text.

"We're going to do this, then?" The owner of the finger breathed
excitedly.

"Uh huh." Her companion grinned. "We wait till midnight, right?" He
asked.

The girl nodded. "Midnight." She replied, then looked at her watch.
"Only a few more minutes."

The boy arranged a few implements on the top of an upturned box. A
dagger, a small bowl, an un-lit black candle, and a chunk of chalk.
"How much longer?" He asked.

The girl stared at her watch for a few seconds more. "Now." She
whispered.

Silently, the boy took the chalk in his hand, and sketched a circle
on the wooden floor. The girl picked up the black candle and placed
it carefully in the centre of the circle, while the boy took up the
bowl and dagger. He sliced into the palm of his hand, winced a little
at the pain, and watched as the blood poured from the wound into the
bowl set below. He passed the dagger on to the girl, who did the
same. She dipped her finger into the blood, moved to the candle, and
held her finger above the wick, allowing the crimson liquid to drip
onto the dark wax.

"With power of blood, dark candle a-light." They whispered in
unison. A gust of wind blew through the attic, and the candles
outside the circle sputtered out, plunging the two figures into
darkness. The blood on the wick sizzled and spat, sending out small
red sparks before it burst into a dark red flame. The two stared at
each other nervously. The girl picked up the bowl and reached in to
the circle, placing the bowl carefully over the crimson flame. The
boy let out a small gasp of surprise as it stayed there, suspended in
mid-air over the candle. He licked his lips, and the pair continued.

"With our blood as our offering, we summon you. Creature of
darkness, creature of hate, we call you to our circle."

The pair stared at the candle, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing did.

"Maybe we did something wrong?" The girl asked.

"No." The boy shook his head. "Just wait." He whispered.

The bowl began to rotate slowly, but soon picked up speed, spinning
wildly. A fine blood mist began to rise from the bowl, tendrils
swirling and writhing around each other, and glowing with an eerie
intensity. A low pitched hiss began to reverberate around the room,
gaining in volume until the boy and girl had to clasp their hands
over their ears, shutting their eyes with the sharp pain. Abruptly,
the noise stopped.

"Why do you summon me?" A gravely voice hissed. The pair opened
their eyes, and stared dumbly into the circle. Rising from the bowl
was the a bloody and hazy snake. It's hood suggested it might have
been a Cobra, yet it's face seemed to bear some human
characteristics. "Why do you summon me?" It asked again.

"We seek power. The power to destroy those we hate." The girl spoke
clearly, although a little shakily.

"Such a thing does not come without a price." The snake hissed,
narrowing it's eyes. "A great price."

"We're willing to do what you want." The boy said.

"Anything?" The snake laughed a hideous rasping sound when the pair
nodded. "Very well. I can give you power. I can help
you...dispose...of those you hate. But you must break the circle."

"But if we do that, we cannot control you." Said the girl.

"And if you don't, I cannot help you. My powers cannot reach outside
this circle."

The pair exchanged glances.

"If we break the circle, you will help us?" The boy asked. The snake
nodded, and after a moments hesitation, the boy reached forward, and
rubbed away a portion of the chalk circle. The snake laughed
menacingly and stared hungrily at the two children.

"Now I will give you power." It laughed again, and split into two,
shooting forward and into the mouths of the children before they were
able to react. As they screamed in pain, the bowl clattered to the
floor. The candle-light reflected briefly in the empty bowl before
the flame extinguished itself, leaving the attic in a dark and deadly
silence.

The Crow and The Falcon. (One)

Damon Salvatore was seated towards the back of the class, already
tiring of the game he was playing. He'd found it amusing to stare
vacantly out of the window for several minutes, until the teacher
noticed him and directed him to repeat what he'd said in Italian.
Which Damon did. Fluently. It was one of the reasons he'd chosen to
take Italian as one of his classes. After the third time of doing
this, the irritation could be plainly seen on the teacher's face as
he glared, tight-lipped, at the belligerent student. Damon just
smiled smugly back, and started the process over again. But it was
only entertaining to a limit, and that limit had passed halfway
through the lesson. Now he was brooding, and wondering what the hell
he was doing here. After a week at Redditch High he thought he would
be bored out of his mind. Which he was, to some extent, although
there /were/ a few interesting people he'd come across.

The twins, for example. He'd bumped into them a few times during the
week. The first he had been removing some books from his locker when
he'd backed into them. Normally his preternatural senses would have
prevented the mishap, but the hallway was crowded and he was having
enough trouble concentrating on holding onto his books as it was.
He'd turned round after treading on a foot to come face to face with
two pairs of identical green eyes. A boy and a girl. He'd mumbled
sorry, and flashed them a charming smile before hurrying off to
class. The second time he met them was coming out of the bathroom
later in the day. The girl brushed a lock of wine-auburn hair behind
her ear, then flipped him a wave with a friendly smile at his
apology. A few days later he found himself standing behind them in
the lunch queue, and discovered their names. Jessamyn and Michael.
Jess and Mike, they'd both insisted.

Currently, he was staring at the back of a head seated two rows in
front of him. Primarily because the hair on the head was an electric
blue. The girl in question had been in all of his classes so far
today, and he was fascinated by her, and not only because of her
hair. He could sense a goodly amount of Power emanating from within
her. Similar to Bonnie's but more powerful, though most likely from
experience more than anything else. Remembering Bonnie McCullough
stirred up memories of Fell's Church the previous month and caused
his mood to darken.

Over the year since Elena's rebirth he'd been more than surprised to
find himself growing closer to his brother, Stefan. But while they
grew closer, Elena and Stefan had been drifting apart. Elena's
strange return had caused great alarm in the small town, not least to
Aunt Judith, who, at first, refused to believe it was /really/ her
niece. Explanations were difficult, almost unsatisfactory to many
minds.

Elena had been only been missing the past several months, and not
dead, they had said. She'd run away after her 'miraculous' survival
of the accident on Wickery Bridge, not wanting to stay in Fell's
Church with Aunt Judith if she in turn could not accept Stefan. The
story they chose to tell was that she'd taken a coach trip to a town
she'd stayed in once with her parents, and, after cooling down a
little, intended to come back again. But her plans were ruined after
being involved in an accident. She awoke in the hospital with no
recollection of who she was, or how she got there. Of course, as she
was assumed dead there were no missing persons records or such to
identify her by. She was merely a Jane Doe in the eyes of the
hospital, and, when healthy enough to leave, she wandered around,
doing part time work to support herself whilst trying to regain her
memory.

This was all well and good, they were told, but what about her
body? Elena had acted innocent, she had /no/ idea who the impostor
was. None at all. It was Stefan that saved the day. It /could/ have
been Katherine who had died, he mused. An old girlfriend who had
followed him, unable to accept it was over. Their resemblance to each
other was why he'd been attracted to Elena in the first place, he'd
said. At least his sense of honour was part way placated by this
snippet of truth. He'd thought that Elena had been acting strangely
during the last two weeks of her life, not wanting to go home,
avoiding all the people she knew. The townsfolk accepted this
grudgingly, and life returned to relative normality. Out of the
entire town, only those in the clearing that night new the truth.
After a warning from Damon, Tyler was keeping his mouth shut, and
keeping his distance.

Stefan's choice to stay alive as a vampire when Elena had offered it
had been the start of his gradual acceptance of his own nature; no
bad thing in Damon's opinion, although he still refused to take human
blood. In many ways this acceptance was a part of the downfall of
Stefan and Elena's relationship. Elena could never be a part of what
he was. She'd been driven near mad when she'd changed the first time,
and Stefan had known since she'd come back that he couldn't do it to
her again. She didn't want it, no matter how much she'd loved him. It
caused a rift to open, and barriers started coming between them as
they drifted slowly apart. The relationship had ended a little over a
month previously, and it was Stefan who finished it. For her own
good, more than anything, to give her a chance at a normal life, with
a future and children. That, and he didn't want to see her die for a
third time. Stefan still didn't know if they'd keep in touch.

It was Damon who had insisted on a new start for them both. He
thought Stefan had been more than a little surprised at Damon
/wanting/ to stay with him, but then so had Damon. And so it was that
a month later they found themselves joining classes two months into
the new school year at Redditch High.

The town itself was considerably larger than Fell's Church, as was
the school. The brothers slipped in almost anonymously. School had
been Stefan's idea, and he'd been insistent. Damon went along with
him, prepared to try anything at least once for the hell of it. The
wisecrack of working through the throats of every pretty girl in the
school had met with a hard stare from Stefan. His brother had changed
enough over the past year that he didn't feel like provoking him
further. It probably wouldn't be too bad for his health, but he
didn't want to risk it.

Class was finishing as Damon re-emerged from the past, and students
filed out of the door. He followed them into the hall, only to be
grabbed roughly by the collar and slammed hard up against the wall.
It was all he could do to restrain himself from seizing his assailant
and ripping their throat out.

"Look, mate, quit staring at me, would'ya. You've been at it all day
and you're starting to give me the heeby jeebies." It was the blue
headed girl from class. She released him after a moment, and he
glared at her.

"You shouldn't do that to people you don't know," he snarled. "It's
not very nice. And you could get into all kinds of trouble." He
brushed past her and stormed off down the hall, students scattering
to avoid him. He sneaked a look back as he turned the corner. The
girl grinned and turned in the opposite direction, shaking her head
in mock despair. He had half a mind to teach her a lesson later on,
but decided against it. Her Power intrigued him.



The Crow and the Falcon. (Two)

It was pouring with rain outside, so the cafeteria was more packed
than usual. Jessamyn and Michael Webber were quick to order the group
of cheerleaders off of their usual table with cold green stares, in
stereo. The group quickly moved on and the twins slipped into their
seats. Mike probed at a pile of toxic green slush on his plate
dubiously.

"If I eat this, I'm gonna mutate into something nasty," he complained.

"You already have. Eat up. Mom's got a meeting tonight, and I'm not
sticking around at home to be subject to Kate's cooking," his sister
grinned.

Mike grimaced, and forked a mouthful of the goo into his mouth. Jess
was glad she didn't have to eat it today. Instead she took a big bite
out of the apple she'd bought, making sure it crunched loudly.

"Rub it in, why don't you," he moaned.

"Rub-a-dub-dub," she replied, reaching over and rubbing his nose
gently.

"Thanks," he said, sourly. "You know, if you hadn't had that
chocolate bar in music, you'd be eating this too."

"I know. That's why I ate it."

"You're gonna screw up your diet."

"No I'm not. I included the chocolate bar in today's calculations.
I'll be fine."

"Fine? What's wrong?" The blue-headed figure slipped in beside Mike.

"Hi Cookie. Nothing's wrong," Jess greeted her friend.

"Jess is abusing her body again with the vile substance known as
chocolate."

"And?" Cookie replied, "What's new?"

Jess snickered. "Ha. You should have known better than to attempt
recruiting Redditch High's resident chocolate fiend into your cause.
Besides, I caught you eating those Mars Bars last week, so don't go
preaching to me."

"Yeah, Mike. Hypocrisy is one of the worst sins I know." Cookie
smirked at him.

"What's this? Attack Mike week or something? Geesh. I'm only saying
it because I care."

"I know," Jess relented, reaching over and ruffling his hair
affectionately.

"So where're Zia and the Techno Freak?" Cookie asked.

"Zia's getting some extra coaching for Chemistry, and as far as I
know, Adam is hiding out in a cubicle in the bathroom hacking into
the school files," Mike informed her.

"That's unusually tame for him. What's he doing in school files?"

"Reducing Mrs Barclay's pay check."

"Uh, why?" she asked, opening her lunch box.

"She flunked him in art. He refused to draw a live study of a naked
forty year old woman," Jess snorted. "He wants his revenge."

"Oh the maturity of my brother astounds me," Cookie replied flatly
and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I thought he left a little note last
time in their files telling them how to improve them."

"This is school. They're not gonna cough up the funds to secure
their files like the Pentagon," Mike commented, pushing his plate
away. "Ugh. I can't eat anymore of this."

Cookie dumped her box in front of him, and started on the school
meal that he'd left. "It's not that bad," she said, munching
contentedly. "Quite nice, really." Mike stuck his tongue out and made
gagging noises.

"You're sick, Cookie," Jess grimaced. "So, we gonna go to the movies
tonight?"

"Sorry. Can't make it. Mom's got some ritual thing going on tonight,
and me and Adam have been roped into cleaning the house for
visitors," Cookie grumbled.

"Why are you complaining? I thought you were in on most of that
hocus pocus stuff?"

"I am. But the house isn't being cleaned for ritual purposes - mom's
going to a friend's for that. We got stuck cleaning because our
snotty cousins are coming for the weekend."

"Oh no." Mike closed his eyes in despair. "Not Bruce and Lydia.
/Why/?"

Cookie shrugged. "Who knows. They're just coming for a visit, so mom
says. I suppose they have their real reasons tucked away somewhere in
their twisted minds."

"They are /not/ hanging round with us this time. I mean it. They
even /try/ and come near me, I'm kicking them into the next state."
Jess was adamant. She distinctly remembered the last time they had
visited. Cookie's mother had made them entertain the pair for the
week, and it had not been pleasant. They'd followed them around,
complaining endlessly about how bored they were, how inferior things
were to back home. They were, in Jess's opinion, the biggest snobs in
the world. They also gave her the creeps.

"Don't worry. Mom says they can entertain themselves this time.
Anyway, it's only for the weekend. They'll probably stick at home."

"And pigs might fly." Mike muttered. "If there's a chance of causing
problems for us, Lydia and Bruce will jump at it... hey, what's wrong,
Cooks?" He trailed off. Cookie was frowning at something behind him.

"Nothing. Just a guy staring at me."

Jess followed her friend's gaze. "You mean Damon Salvatore?"

"That his name?"

"Yeah. He's kinda cute."

"He's kinda weird. In a psychotic sort of way. You can see it in his
eyes. And there's this feeling I have about him, like he's hiding
something."

The twins looked troubled. "Can't you be more specific?" Jess asked.

"Not yet," she replied distractedly as she rose from the table.
"Save my seat, wouldya." Jess and Mike stared after her as she wound
her way through the lunch crowd towards Damon Salvatore's table.

"I hate it when she doesn't explain," Mike complained.

"Give her time. She'll tell us eventually." She picked up Cookie's
discarded fork and spooned some of the green gunk into her mouth, and
grimaced. "You're right," she said, placing the fork gingerly back on
the plate. "This stuff /is/ lethal."

~*~

"I think it's going to work out fine here," Stefan remarked, taking a
sip of mineral water. "Large town, large school, easy to hide what we
are." He frowned at his brother's lack of attention. "Virgins galore
that I can rip pretty little throats from," he added, annoyed.

"Yeah. Great," Damon replied vacantly.

"You aren't even listening, are you? You got your eyes on this
evening's meal or something?" he asked disgustedly. "What is she?
Blonde? Brunette? Tall, short?"

"Tall, feisty, blue headed, and definitely not dinner," Damon
stated, turning to face his brother. "Probe her," he said, pointing.
"Tell me what you sense."

Stefan stretched out tentatively with his mind, gently examining
hers. Powerful. "She's psychic," he muttered, probing further.
Abruptly, he was shut out, but not before he caught a wave of anger
and irritation being sent his way. "And she's pissed. She sensed I
was in there," he sighed.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Well done, little brother. You should learn
to be more careful."

"Hey, I /was/ careful. My Powers aren't /that/ weak."

"Well, no matter. She felt it, she's pissed..."

"And she's making her way over here," Stefan interrupted.

"What?" Damon turned quickly. "Oh, this should be fun." He smiled to
himself and settled back into his seat. Stefan rolled his eyes.
*Idiot*, he thought to himself, *he tempts trouble on purpose*.

"Well hello, pretty lady," Damon greeted Cookie as she stormed up to
them. "What's the reason for being blessed with your delightful
company?"

Cookie leaned over the table, glaring at him. "I don't know who the
hell you think you are, I don't know /what/ you are - yet - but stay
the hell out of my mind, you hear?" she hissed.

Damon arched an inquiring brow at her, playing innocent. "I'm sorry,
your mind?"

"You know /exactly/ what I'm talking about. If you do it again, I'm
gonna cause you a whole heap of trouble. I mean it." She turned to
leave. "And that goes for you, too," she told Stefan as she stalked
off.

"Well done, Damon. Well done." Stefan clapped slowly. "You've been
here a week, and already you're making enemies."

"Oh shut up. It wasn't /me/ that was probing her mind, anyway." His
tone was nonchalant, but Stefan thought he could sense a little
disquiet growing beneath his brother's cool exterior.

~*~

Adam Tate sat in a cramped toilet cubicle with his Laptop perched
on his knee. The old /'Out of Order'/ sign hanging from the door
ensured some degree of privacy. He'd already done what he set out to
do, and was now casually browsing through the files of the new
students. He arched a brow two particular files caught his eye. Or
rather the lack of them. Salvatore, Damon and Salvatore, Stefan.
Waiting for records from Robert E. Lee. *Out of town?* he thought.
*Neat. New blood in the lifeless old place*. The bell for class rang,
and Adam grinned as he decided to cut. He wanted to know more about
these new students. After pacifying his paranoia by making sure the
cubicle was securely locked, he set about hacking into the files of
Robert E. Lee.

And found... nothing. Nothing on Damon, and little on Stefan. Instead
of disappointment, he was intrigued. /Real/ strangers. /Interesting/
people. He shut down his computer. Things were looking up for Adam.
He glanced at his watch. 1.17. *Might as well leave early*, he
thought, slipping out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Of
course, Cookie would kill him for skipping again, but she wouldn't
rat on him. Especially if he got most of the cleaning done before she
got home. He stopped off briefly at his locker to retrieve his books,
then sneaked out of the building and home. To find the door unlocked,
and his worst nightmare sitting in the front room on one of the
couches.

Cold grey eyes stared at him from under short cropped blonde hair.
"Well, hello." The voice was as cold as the gaze.

Adam groaned inwardly. "Bruce." He nodded to his cousin. "You're
here early."

"We switched to an earlier flight."

"Shouldn't you be in school?" asked Lydia, brushing her hair from
her face. Her own grey eyes were calculating. "We could cause you /a
lot/ of trouble if we told," she added meaningfully.

Adam sighed and threw his belongings on the couch. "You could, but I
don't give a shit." He flashed a smile at her. "I mean, it's not as
if I really /need/ to go to school, being a genius and all. Unlike
/some/ people." He felt a stab of satisfaction as Lydia visibly
bristled. She was a year older than he was and had come out with
below average grades when she left school.

"But if we told your mother..."

Adam cut her off. "Yeah, yeah. I'd get grounded - again, have to
endure the lectures - again. I'm used to it. Now, if you'll excuse
me, I have work to do. You know which rooms you're staying in, and
since you were so /gracious/ to come early, you can make your own
beds." With that he stormed into the kitchen, grinding his teeth, and
dreading the trouble that Bruce and his older sister were likely to
cause.

~*~

Jess caught up with Damon after her Math lesson that afternoon
standing beneath a sprawling oak tree in the car park. "Hi," she
greeted him as she approached.

He looked at her a little warily before replying. "Hi back."

"I don't bite, you know," she said laughingly. "You gonna introduce 
me to your friend?"

"Hmm? Oh. This is my brother, Stefan. Stefan, Jessamyn Webber."

"Just Jess," she said as she shook his hand, a little surprised at
the coolness of his skin.

"Hello, Just Jess," he said, giving her an almost shy grin.

"Did you want something?" Damon asked pointedly.

"Uh, yeah. I saw Cookie get mad at you in the cafeteria. I was
wondering if everything was okay?" she said, flashing him an odd look.

"Yes. Thanks." He paused a moment. "You know her?"

"Oh yeah. She's my best friend. One of them, anyway."

"Is she always like that."

"What? Assertive? Outspoken? Sure. Biggest mouth in the school.
They tried to get her on the Debate team once, and she had a few
choice words to say about /that/, too." She grinned. "What did you do?"

"I think we got off on the wrong foot, somehow. Let's just say I
found her very... interesting. She took it the wrong way."

Jess's mouth formed an O shape, and she widened her eyes in
understanding. "Hey, I'm sure the damage is easily repaired. Cookie's
a really forgiving person. Look, tomorrow is Saturday. We're not
doing anything. Why don't you both come to my place? We can crash in
front of the television, or we could show you around this boring town."

Damon glanced at Stefan. "Well..." he began.

"Aw, c'mon. It'll be fun, and you can get to know some people," she
pleaded.

Stefan smiled a little, and made the decision for his brother.
"Sure. We'll come."

"Great. Ah, lemme give you the address and phone number," she said,
fumbling through her bag. Stefan produced a pen and held it under her
nose. "Thanks. Got any paper? My Notebook is trapped."

"Just write it on my hand," he said, holding it out.

"Okay," she said, handing the pen back. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah," Damon replied as she started walking away. "Tomorrow."




The Crow and the Falcon. (Three)

The Webber house was a sprawling affair with lush green gardens
surrounding it. It sat near the top of a hill alongside other equally
large, and probably equally as expensive houses. All of them backed
onto woodland areas - Stefan had explored a small portion of them
when they'd first arrived for hunting purposes. Damon had, of course,
sneered at the animal blood, but had gone along anyway. Stefan
assumed that he'd had nothing better to do.

They rang the doorbell, and waited for the door to be answered.
Stefan removed his sunglasses, a move made out of politeness. Damon
stared at him a second, and then removed his own, rolling his eyes as
the door opened. A tall woman holding a screaming child stood in the
doorway. The adult version of Jess was Stefan's immediate reaction.

"Hi. uh..." he trailed off, caught off guard by the small child being
held upside-down in the woman's arms.

"We're here to see Jess," Damon put in smoothly.

"Sure. You must be Damon and Stefan, huh?" She said, putting
the child down. "Jess mentioned you might be stopping by. I'm Hazel
Webber, Jess's mom." She held out her hand in greeting, which the
brothers shook in turn. She motioned them into the house. "Please,
come on through to the kitchen."

"Play swings," the child demanded looking up at Stefan as Hazel
closed the door.

He looked a little mortified. "Swings?" he asked.

"Not right now, Lisa honey. Stefan's here to see Jess."

Lisa pouted and turned to Damon. "Swings?"

Damon grinned at Stefan, then scooped the little girl up and swung
her gently around by the arms. She started giggling. Hazel shook her
head and smiled as she headed into the kitchen, Stefan following
behind.

((Isn't Damon supposed to be here to see Jess as well?)) Stefan
asked his brother mentally, a little shocked at the ease with which
Damon dealt with Lisa.

((But why would I need to see Jess when I have a lovely young virgin
right here?))

Stefan stopped in his tracks and threw his brother a look over his
shoulder. Damon just grinned at him, placing the girl on his
shoulders. "And what can I do to amuse you now, fair maiden?" he
asked, and she giggled some more.

Hazel stood at the kitchen counter pouring the contents of a carton
of orange juice into a jug. "You're from out of town, huh?" She asked
conversationally.

"Uh huh," Stefan replied. "Transferring from a town in Virginia.
Needed a fresh start."

"I think I have a cousin who lives in Virginia. Second cousin,
several times removed." She smiled. "You don't sound like you come
from there."

"We have roots in Italy - lived there as kids."

"Ooh. Nice place. I went to Florence for my Honeymoon." A dreamy
sigh escaped her lips. She shook herself a little, and pulled an
apple from a bowl brimming with fruit. She placed it on a tray along
with a bag of potato chips, the jug of juice and several glasses.
"You mind taking this up as you go?" she asked Stefan.

"Not at all." He picked up the tray, and flashed her a charming smile. 
"Where to?"

"Thanks. Top floor, end of the hall. If you get lost, follow the
mess, or the music. And make sure Jess eats that apple."

Damon put Lisa down as Stefan passed. "Another time, Milady," he
said, waving goodbye to the crestfallen child.

As Stefan approached the top floor the sound of a guitar and a male
singer could be heard clearly.

"/I can go where no-one else can go
I know what no-one else could know
Here I am just a drowning in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train./"

The music was coming from a room at the end of the hall, its door
open halfway. The brothers approached quietly.

"/And everything seems cut and dried
Day and Night Earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it./"

Damon knocked on the door as Stefan poked his head round. Michael
Webber was perched on a battered cushion covered couch. He stopped
singing, but continued to pluck at the strings of the guitar he was
playing. Soft giggling could be heard coming from a room to the right.

"Hi there and c'mon in. Welcome to the madhouse." He grinned,
nodding in greeting to Damon. "I'm Mike," he said, introducing
himself to Stefan.

"Stefan." Mike paused playing long enough to shake his hand.

"Take a seat. Cushion, floor or couch, whatever you're comfortable
with."

Damon sat back in the couch, sprawling at the opposite end to Mike.
Stefan sat down and dragged a cushion under him. He made himself
comfortable and looked around the room. The couch was placed in front
of a large window looking out onto the back garden and the woodland.
Opposite the window were a television, video player and stereo system
resting on a low wooden table, complete with a multitude of tapes and
CDs. Above this the wall was lined with shelves filled with books,
videos, and music sheets. The two remaining walls were covered with
posters and the like. A door in each of those walls led off into two
more rooms.

"Bedrooms," Mike informed the vampire. "Mine on the left, Jess's on
the right. Where the Girly noises are coming from." He grimaced, then
yelled in the direction of his sister's room.

"Hey, Jess. Stefan and Damon are here. You gonna come out and be
sociable?"

"Out in a minute," she yelled back.

Mike put his guitar carefully to one side and reached for the
glasses and the jug of juice. "How're you enjoying the hell-hole
known as school, then?" he asked as he poured juice out and offered
it to the guests, who accepted them with a nod of thanks. He frowned
a little, then amended himself. "Sorry. Perhaps /enjoy/ is the wrong
word. How are you /surviving/ hell?"

"We've been through worse," Damon commented, his lips curving up
slightly, amused.

Jess's head poked round her bedroom door before Stefan could
comment. A pair of hands pushed Jess's red head down a little, and a
blond head peered round over the top. Both girls were grinning
widely, covered with glitter. Stefan could smell the glue.

"Had fun, did we children?" Mike asked dryly.

Jess poked her tongue out at him and pulled the blond into the room
as she emerged dressed in an oversized black T-shirt and white
shorts. "Hi guys." She addressed Stefan and Damon, then gestured to
her companion. "Uh, this is Zia. Second to last of our little group.
Zia, Stefan and Damon." She said, indicating to them in turn.

Zia sat down on one of the cushions that lay strewn over the floor,
smiled a wide smile at the two and flipped a lazy wave. "Greetings
and Salutations, guys." The brothers smiled back, Stefan warmly,
while Damon flashed one of his rare, dazzling grins.

Stefan reached forward to the tray and scooped up the apple. "Your
Mom said to make sure you ate that," Stefan said, smiling, and tossed
it over to her with a flick of his wrist.

"She would." Jess grimaced, and shot out a hand to deftly pluck the
fruit from the air.

"Nice catch." Damon smiled a charming smile.

Jess took a bite. "Practice," she mumbled round her mouthful, as she
wandered over to the stereo player. "You finished playing?" Jess
asked her brother, then pressed the play button on the CD player at
his nod of confirmation.

"/So, tell me what you want, what you really, really want.../"

Jess screeched out in anger, and slammed down on the stop button.
"Spice Whores," she spat out. "Aaron's been in here. He dies," she
stated, venom in her voice.

"Our ten year old brother, and the only one in this house that
actually likes the Spice Girls," Mike said, noticing Stefan's baffled
look.

"A hanging offence if ever there was one," Damon nodded solemnly, a
trace of a grin on his face. His brother seemed to be in better touch
with the world, because Stefan had no clue who the Spice Girls were,
though the brief blast he'd heard made him think he probably didn't
want to know.

"Yeah. And you can add being drawn and quartered to that for the brat
coming here when he's not allowed," Jess cackled, a sadistic gleam to
her eye as she rummaged around for another CD.

"Lighten up," Mike said, flinging a potato chip at his sister.

The sound of arguing drifted through the door and caught the
attention of the vampires, who both frowned at the door. No-one else
heard anything until a few moments later. "Uh oh," Mike muttered, and
closed his eyes with a groan.

~*~

"Dammit, Adam, I don't care what you think. Bruce and Lydia are up
to something. I feel it, and I don't like it." She frowned in
annoyance at her brother.

"Okay, Cookie. I admit that the pair are creepy, amoral, butt-kissing 
jerks, but you're being paranoid."

Cookie growled and threw up her arms in exasperation before storming
into Jess and Mike's sitting room. "Can you believe those creeps? Can
you actually /believe/ that my snooty cousins have invited themselves
to stay for a whole /week/?" she fumed and threw herself onto the
couch next to Mike. Adam stayed at the door, a pained expression on
his face. "I mean, who the hell do they think they are?" she turned
to the person sitting on her right and froze. *Oh no,* she thought.
*This /really/ makes my day complete.* She didn't have the energy to
debate this new problem. "What are you doing here?" she asked
wearily, rubbing at her temples. She could feel a headache brewing.

"Well, I happened to mention to Jess here that you and I seemed to
have gotten off on the wrong foot. She suggested that we start
again." He smiled widely at her.

Cookie glared at him a moment, then turned her stare onto Jess.
"This true?"

"Yeah. They're nice guys. I thought you could sort out your
differences." Jess shrugged uneasily.

"Did you?" Cookie said flatly, then sighed and shut her eyes. *Nice
guys?* She opened one eye and took a good look at Stefan before
shutting it again. *Okay, he seems good enough, girl. A
little... /odd/, but a decent guy. And when have I ever known Jess to
be a bad judge of character? Still...* She tentatively stretched out
her feelings to the young man next to her, then drew them back
sharply in shock, her eyes flying open to look into his own startled
ones.

He was... /different/, she didn't know how, except it had something
to do with a hunger she felt. But that wasn't all that had startled
her. She'd felt a great deal of pain and anguish from him, boiling
inside. It had only just started to heal recently, she noted, but
even that wasn't much. *Why does he let it fester?* she wondered.

((They're my emotions. I do with them what I will,)) his voice
snapped in her head. Cookie felt quite proud that she still managed
to keep an outward appearance of calm.

((What the hell?)) she shot back. She'd never sensed another's
thoughts before, let alone had another voice talking in her mind.

((You're telepathic,)) he noted dryly. ((And highly
psychic, it seems. Lovely.))

((What /are/ you?))

((My business. Not yours,)) he snapped.

((You're talking in my mind and you say its not my business?))
Cookie asked incredulously.

((You're the one who invaded my feelings. I didn't invite you,)) he
pointed out.

((Fine. Okay. Whatever. I only did it to find out whether or not I
should trust you.))

((You could have just asked me that.))

((Oh, yeah. Right, and what would you have said?)) she asked
sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at him.

((No.))

((No? /No?/)) She hadn't been expecting that.

((Not if you're going to treat me as an enemy. And that's a game you
/don't/ want to play. You can trust me on that,)) he sent a mental
smirk her way.

((If?))

((As I was saying when you came in, I think we should start again.
You intrigue me.))

((At this point /that/ feeling is totally mutual.))

((And you have fire in your soul. I like that. I'd like to get to
know you better.))

((Ha. I'll bet,)) she said, feeling self conscious of both his gaze,
and the strange looks she was getting from her friends. She sighed
mentally. ((I don't believe I'm on the verge of giving in here. How
do I know that you're not gonna do anything that'll hurt us?))

((You have my word,)) he stated simply. She had an odd feeling that
he was the kind of man to whom keeping his word was a serious matter.

She sighed out loud. "Okay. You have another chance," she said,
holding out her hand. He took it and shook it, then let his hand
linger for a moment. ((And you can knock that stuff off before you
even start. No probing me again without my permission, either.))
Funny, now that she'd done it once, it was easy to speak with her mind.

"A good decision." He smiled arrogantly at her.

Everyone sat in silence for a few moments.

"Uh, so who are you?" Cookie asked.

"Damon Salvatore," he replied, still smiling.

"Stefan," his brother replied softly, his own smile friendly.
"Cookie, right?"

She nodded. "And the quiet guy is my pain is the ass little brother,
Adam."

"Ha ha," Adam retorted sarcastically before venturing into the room.

"You're the genius that keeps skipping class?" Stefan asked.

"That would be me," Adam confirmed, perching himself on the edge of
the stereo table. He stared at the brothers a moment as if
considering, then looked away again, grinning to himself slightly.
Cookie frowned at him. *What's on /his/ mind?*

"You were saying that the terrible twosome were staying for the
week?" Zia asked. "Why? What karmic wrong have we done to deserve it
this time?"

"Nothing that I can think of," Cookie snorted.

"Sister dearest is being paranoid. She thinks they're up to some no-good,
underhand scheme," Adam filled them in.

"I wouldn't put it past them." Mike frowned, and Cookie smiled at
him before turning to her brother with a look of triumph on her face.

"See! I'm not the only one who thinks it. It's not paranoia."

Mike shrunk back a little under Adam's glare. "I only said I
wouldn't put it past them. I didn't actually say they were up to
something."

"It's in their eyes," Cookie insisted. The others looked at her
sceptically. "Look, when have I been wrong about my /feelings/?"

The others shrugged.

"Well, you haven't so far as I'm aware of," Zia conceded.

"So why do you have a hard time accepting this?" Cookie asked her
brother.

"They're only people. I mean, they're awful, but you make them out
to be evil.

"Oh, now /that/ I will agree with." Mike said, nodding vigourously.

Stefan broke in at that point, thoroughly lost with the conversation. 
"Uh, who are you talking about?"

"Our cousins," Adam sighed.

"The two most evil people on the planet," Mike intoned, darkly.

((Looks like they knocked you down from first place,)) Stefan
quipped at his brother, laughing mentally.

((Your wit astounds me, little brother,)) Damon shot back.

"Not only are they evil," Mike continued, "But they're also
scheming, rude and manipulative."

Cookie stared at the brothers, a little wide eyed. ((You can /both/
talk with your minds? And I can hear you, by the way.))

((Damon, why didn't you tell me she was telepathic?))

((What, you didn't guess that she was? You yourself said she was
psychic.))

((Quit talking over my head,)) she growled at them. ((Anyway, Damon
only figured it five minutes ago. Don't let him fool you.))

((Why is Mike looking puzzled?)) Stefan asked all of a sudden. The
red head had stopped speaking, and was frowning.

((Twin thing,)) Cookie explained. ((He and Jess sometimes know what
the other is thinking and stuff like that. I guess he might be
picking vibrations from this conversation. So maybe we could just
talk out loud? Besides which, it's very rude to do this.))

Stefan had the grace to look a little ashamed. "Why is it you hate
them so much?" he asked aloud.

Mike shook his head as if to clear it. "Huh? Oh. I fell foul to one
of their plans a couple of years back. Ended up with my leg in
plaster, and almost got expelled from school. They never once
apologised, and they actually laughed at my cast." He sighed
mournfully at the memory.

"What was this plan?" Damon asked curiously.

"Don't want to talk about it," Mike muttered, turning red.

"It's a very embarrassing and sore point with him. We try not to talk 
about it much," Jess explained. "Anyway, to explain the situation without 
melodrama. Bruce and Lydia are Cookie and Adam's cousins. We hate their 
guts, to put it simply. They were supposed to stay for the weekend, which 
is bad enough, but from what I can gather they're staying the whole week. 
Bad news for us, seeing as we'll probably end up entertaining them if 
Cookie's mom takes the approach she took last year that the poor little 
cousins need to be baby-sat."

"So get rid of them," Damon suggested. Stefan wasn't entirely sure that he
didn't mean permanently.

Cookie burst out laughing. "Yeah, right. We tried that last year.
Tried being polite, bribing them, and even outright hostility.
Nothing worked. If you can think of anything that'll work, I'm all
ears."

"Actually, I can. I can be quite... persuasive when I want to be."
Cookie stared at him, and he smiled back. "Maybe they'll listen to
me. Anyhow, I think I'd like to meet them."

Stefan's head thunked defeatedly into the palm of his hand. "What
did I do to deserve getting you as a brother?" He shook his head and
moaned in despair.




The Crow and the Falcon. (Four)

Debbie's Diner was surprisingly empty for the time of day. Bruce and
Lydia had the kind of aura that caused people to leave. The emptier
the place was, the less secretive they had to be.

"We're here, what do we do now?" Lydia asked.

/Power. You must gain Power,/ the voice hissed in their minds.

"Power? How?" said Bruce.

/Life. The Power of Life./

"You mean...kill someone?" A frown puckered Lydia's brow.

The voice laughed. /Kill many. The more Lifeforce, the more Power
you gain. The more Power, the more effective your revenge./

"Live with it, Lydia," Bruce snapped at his sister. He addressed the
voice. "How does this help you?"

/The more Power you gain makes it easier for me to regain life. You
must get Power to make me all the more powerful./

"Who must we kill?" Lydia whispered.

/That does not matter. So long as they are healthy, their Lifeforce
strong./

"Why killing?" Lydia asked. "Isn't there a better way?"

/There are better ways, yes, but much harder to master, and
dangerous if done wrong. Killing is the easiest way to get Lifeforce.
It releases itself at the point of Death. You must take it into
yourselves./

"How do we do that?" Bruce asked.

/Concern yourselves with the harvesting of the Lifeforce. I will
gather it./ The voice laughed at Bruce's unconvinced expression.
/Together we can accomplish much. But you must learn to trust me.
We can do nothing if we do not trust one another./

Bruce and Lydia frowned at each other as the voice retreated. It
didn't always stay in their consciousness. It retreated at times as
if to sleep.

"I'm not sure about this." Lydia chewed her lip nervously. "Maybe we
should find a better way."

"We agreed this /was/ the best way."

"But /killing/? What if we got caught?"

"We won't." Bruce smirked at her.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Lydia smiled a little, reassured. "Where do we start?"

"As far from our /dear/ cousins as possible. We don't want them to
suspect anything. We'd better choose people they don't know very
well. Only problem is, we don't /know/ who they hang around with,
other than their little clique. Any ideas?"

"The really popular and the really unpopular." Lydia smiled. "And I
think we should at least make an attempt on one of their group at
some point. We want to make this look random."

"Good idea. When shall we start?"

"Monday. I suggest we also stay a little longer than we said.
Perhaps we could even enrol at Redditch High."

"I'm /sure/ Aunt Abby won't mind." Bruce laughed. "Especially
considering the problems mother and father are going through."

"And the threat of divorce. You couldn't really /blame/ us for not
wanting to be at home." Lydia joined in Bruce's laughter, and the
pair rose from their table and left the building.

~*~

"And /this/," Jess stated, gesturing with open arms, "Is Debbie's.
The only decent burger bar in town, and where most of the kids hang
around. Shall we enter?" She ushered the group through the doors,
where the seven of them squeezed into a corner booth.

They'd started out at Adam and Cookie's place in an attempt to find
their cousins, only to be told they'd gone out for the afternoon. So
Stefan and Damon had received a tour of the town while they searched
for Bruce and Lydia.

"You kids ready to order?" A smiling blonde in her late twenties
came up to them, her order pad in her hand.

"Hey there, Deb." Cookie grinned. "Meet Stefan and Damon. You guys,
meet Deb. The owner of this fine establishment, and one of the best
damn cooks in the world."

"Cookie, flattery is not gonna get you a free meal," Debbie laughed.
"You want your usual?"

"Uh huh." Cookie nodded. Everyone else agreed.

"We'll have whatever they're having." said Damon.

"Just don't have what Cookie has. She had her taste buds removed in
an emergency operation," Mike teased.

"Hey!" Cookie looked offended. "I'm just not a picky eater, that's
all."

"'Picky' is not a word I'd use after watching you wolf down a
burger." That comment earned Mike a kick beneath the table.

"Where to next?" Jess asked. The group looked at each other.

"Dunno." Zia shrugged. "We could try doubling back on ourselves,
maybe. See if they've turned up in places we've looked."

"Or we could just give up and go catch a movie," Mike suggested. "I
can't believe we're actually looking for Bruce and Lydia. I'd
rather run /away/ from them."

"To another country, maybe," Adam piped up, siding with Mike.

"Hey, Deb," Cookie said as the woman came up with their order. "You
seen my demon spawn cousins at all today?"

"The frosty twins?"

"Who else?" Adam muttered.

"You missed 'em by about fifteen minutes. I for one am pleased they
left when they did. If they'd stayed much longer I wouldn't have had
any customers left. Why do you want to find them, anyway?"

"That's what I said," Mike groused.

"Thanks for the info, Deb," Jess said, elbowing her brother, then
taking a bite of her burger. "This is good, by the way." She said, 
grinning round her mouthful.

"Thanks," Debbie replied, moving away.

"Deb!" Adam called after her. "Got any jobs going? I'm kinda low on
cash at the moment."

"Adam, you know damn well that I'm not allowed to employ you until
you start going to school on a regular basis." Deb laughed at him.

"I do!" Adam replied, indignant.

"The idea is you stay there the /whole/ day. Not just the first
period." She disappeared into the kitchen, shaking her head in 
amusement.

"Huh." Adam sulked, then brightened up a little, turning to Stefan.
"So, why don't you tell us about you?" he asked.

"Uh, sure." Stefan looked a little taken aback. "What do you want to
know?"

Adam rested his chin in his palm and grinned like the cat that got
the cream. "Hmm. Care to enlighten us why your files say Admin are
waiting for files from your old school, yet Robert E. Lee has no
mention of Damon and little of you?"

"They must have lost my file," Damon said dismissively.

"How do you know that, anyway?" Stefan asked.

"He hacked into the system, probably," Cookie said dryly, raising an
admonishing brow at her brother, who grinned sheepishly back.

"Does it bother you?" Stefan asked.

"Nope," Adam replied. "Just makes you more interesting." He'd ply
them about it at a later date. They weren't being forthcoming at the
minute, it seemed.

Stefan frowned. "Anyone ever told you you're weird?"

"Yes," The rest of the group chorused, laughing.

"Anyway, how come you switched schools?" Jess asked, taking a sip of
her juice.

"Bad memories." Stefan shifted uncomfortably. "Love gone sour, all
that stuff."

"Sorry."

"That's okay. We came here for a clean break." Stefan smiled
reassuringly at her.

"What about your parents? What do they do?"

"Ah, they died."

"I'm really putting my foot in my mouth here, aren't I?" Jess
grimaced.

"It was a long time ago. Don't worry about it."

"So who do you live with?" Adam asked.

"We've rented an apartment."

"On your own? How the hell did you manage that? Aren't you a little
young?" Adam was astounded.

Damon tapped the end of his nose with his forefinger. "Wouldn't you
like to know." He grinned, then relented. "People overlook anything
if you pay the right amount of money. We have money." He shrugged.

"Lucky bastards," Jess said, popping a fry into her mouth. "Ya
know, I'm beginning to think Adam and Mike are right. We have plenty
of time to find the terrible twosome, and we have only one Saturday a
week. I think we should go see a movie."

Zia laughed. "Yeah. A horror. Something with witches in so we can
have a gas over Cookie yelling at the screen."

"She yells at the screen?" Stefan asked.

The blonde grinned. "Oh yeah. She's been known to throw her soda cup 
at it before." 

"Why? Does insanity run in your family or something?" Stefan asked,
eyeing Cookie warily.

"Yeah. Wanna make something of it?" She laughed, crossing her eyes
at him.

"Cookie's a witch," Zia supplied. "She gets pissed off when the
media paints a bad picture of them."

"Now, /that/ explains a lot," Damon said, staring at Cookie.
((Psychic, a witch, anything else you want to tell us?))

((Yeah. Butt out of my head,)) she replied, sending him a mental
raspberry.

"Got any preferences on movies that you want to see?" Jess asked the
brothers.

"Yes. Anything without vampires in it," Damon muttered, finishing
off his burger. Cookie stared at him suspiciously, and he grinned
back innocently. Everyone else let the comment pass without a second
thought.

~*~

Stefan sat by the window in the apartment he shared with Damon,
looking out over the town and up at the crescent moon hanging high
overhead. "You don't think we're making a mistake?" he asked as Damon
came out of his room.

"In what way?"

"Jess. Cookie. Those guys. I felt like I fitted in this evening, and
I keep thinking that maybe I'm letting myself get too close."

"You worry too much," Damon sighed.

"Maybe. But I'm serious here. What would happen if they found out? I
can see them being real friends, and I don't wanna lose them. I don't
want to use them, either."

Damon stared at his brother for a few moments, the shook his head.
"Soft hearted idiot." He sighed again. "If it bothers you that much,
tell them if they /do/ become friends. But do me a favour. Wait until
you're sure they're friends. And that we're not going to be making
this a quick stop."

Stefan frowned a little. "You think they can be trusted?"

"For what it's worth, yes. Besides which, Cookie already suspects
something is... different about us. They trust her opinion. If she
thinks we're okay, they'll accept that."

"Okay." Stefan nodded.

"I'm off out hunting. You coming?" Damon asked.

"Do you even have to ask?" Stefan flashed a whimsical grin.

"Ah, I can only keep trying. Perhaps one day you might learn to have
fun and give in to your darker side."

"Dream on, Damon." Stefan laughed at him.

"If you don't have dreams, you don't have anything to work towards 
coming true," Damon said, heading out of the door.

"Very philosophical," Stefan muttered, and turned back to the view.




The Crow and the Falcon. (Five)

The hallway was crowded with students on the following Monday
morning. Stefan stifled a yawn and pulled his chemistry book out of
his locker. Mornings were never his best time of day.

"Excuse me, but I think that you're blocking my locker." The voice
was snooty, and his senses were tingling, telling him to be wary.

Stefan turned. "Sorry," he said to the blonde standing behind him.

"That's quite alright." The smile was cold. "Lydia. Lydia Franklin."

"Stefan Salvatore," he replied, alarm bells ringing.

"I'm new here, perhaps you could show me the way round?" she asked.

"Sorry. I'm new too, and my sense of direction is appalling. I'm
still looking for my Friday afternoon math class," he replied,
beating a hasty retreat, heading for his chemistry class.

"Maybe another time?" hhe called after him, almost batting her lashes.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe," he yelled back, then muttered to himself, "Over
my unbreathing body."

He got to chemistry before the teacher, and moved towards a bench at
the back of the room. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked Zia, smiling in
greeting.

"Stefan! Hi." She grinned, shifting her books from the empty space.
"Sure, take a seat. How ya doing?"

"I hate mornings. Other than that, I'm great, thanks."

"Cool." She smiled.

"Although, I think I had a run in with Cookie's cousin, Lydia."

Zia frowned. "What, here?"

"Outside my locker. Apparently hers is next to mine. I think I need
to get a new one."

"Wait, wait. Back up. /She/ has a locker? Why?" Zia was confused.

"Yeah. She says she's new here."

"Oh, great." Zia's head thunked onto the bench.

"If Bruce is anything like his sister, I can see why you guys don't
like them."

"Oh, he is," Zia groaned. "And Lydia finished school last year.
What's she doing enrolling here?"

Stefan refrained from commenting about finishing school centuries ago, 
and being the last person who should be asking that kind of question. 
"Maybe she wants to improve her grades?"

"Maybe she wants to make our lives a misery. You think Cookie knows?"

"No idea. They're staying with Cookie and Adam, right?"

"Yeah."

"I guess they have to know, then."

"You'd think. But I think it would have been decent of them to have
at least warned us."

"Maybe she doesn't know, then." Stefan shrugged as the teacher
walked in.

Zia grimaced and whispered to him. "You any good at chemistry?"

"I can pass," he replied. "Why?"

"You got the time to help me? I'm heading for an F in this, and I
gotta pull that up to a D or they'll move me into the thick class."

"Sure. That make us Lab partners?"

"Cool. Yes." Zia nodded, smiling gratefully. They turned their attention
the teacher and concentrated on the lesson, Zia frowning in confusion
most of the time.

~*~

"They're /what/?!" Cookie exploded. There weren't enough people in
the cafeteria to cause a scene, but Stefan still couldn't help
feeling self-conscious.

"Here," Zia replied calmly. Stefan admired her for that. Cookie
exploding was a hard thing to stay calm in front of.

"Why?" Cookie squeaked. "Oh, don't answer that. I know why.
They're brewing up trouble. Probably for me," She growled. Stefan
winced as she picked up her dinner knife and started to stab at a
bread roll.

"Calm down." Zia pulled the knife from Cookies white-knuckled grip.

"I can't," she hissed. "You know what this means? We're /stuck/ with
them. I have to live with them!"

"You could be over-reacting here," Zia pointed out.

"Oh yeah? Who bothers to enrol in a new school for a /week/?
Especially when they don't /need/ to go to school."

"She has a point." Stefan said quietly. "And I agree that they're up
to something. Lydia at least. There's something not...right about
her." Cookie shot him a grateful look for the support.

"We have to tell the others yet, you know," Zia moaned.

"Damn. Adam is gonna freak. He'll kill them," the blue-haired girl
cursed.

"We can only hope," Zia muttered. "Why don't you turn them into
frogs or something?"

"Ha ha." Cookie grimaced. "I wish I could. I really wish I could."
She looked up as the rest of the group, including Damon, approached
the table. "Hi guys," she said glumly. "Got some bad news. About the
terrible twosome."

"We have worse," Jess said, seating herself next to Stefan, face
pale. She was trembling, he noticed.

"What's wrong?" Zia asked, suddenly concerned.

"They just found Tatum Kent in the girls' showers." Jess's face twisted 
into a grimace. "Dead. Her throat's been slit."

Stefan and Damon exchanged a glance. *Throat slit?* Stefan thought
to himself. *This is bad news.*

"I can't believe it happened," Jess choked out. "I only left her
five minutes before. She was /fine/ then." She began trembling even
more now, the shock hitting her hard. Stefan pulled her to him in a
light hug. She burst into tears on his shoulder. Cookie stared at her
wide eyed.

((What?)) Stefan asked.

((She never does that. Never. Man, this has really shaken her up,))
Cookie replied.

"Who is Tatum Kent, exactly?" Damon asked softly.

"Cheerleader," Adam replied absently, pale himself. "Real popular,
but nice. Likeable. Didn't treat the 'common' people like lepers."

"Good looking?" Stefan asked, throwing a brief look at his brother.

"She was a cheerleader. She was good looking," said Zia.

((/I/ didn't do it,)) Damon told his brother, careful to block
Cookie out. The fact she knew they were talking was bad enough at the
minute.

((I didn't really think you did,)) Stefan sighed. ((But you have to
admit a slit throat is suggestive of a covered up vampire attack.))

((You aren't suggesting a /vampire/ did this, are you?)) Damon's
mental voice was tinged with amusement. Jess's tears had stopped, but
she was hiccupping into Stefan's neck now. He shifted his position
slightly and rocked her gently.

((No, I don't think a vampire did it. But someone might.))

Damon frowned. ((Which could eventually lead to a sticky situation
for us. Damn.))

((We're not leaving,)) Stefan said firmly. Damon looked at him and
arched a brow. ((/I'm/ not. You can if you like,)) Stefan amended.

((I think I'll stick around, if it's all the same to you,)) Damon
replied, looking away. Stefan hid a proud smile in Jess's hair, then
quickly changed his expression to one more suited to the situation.

"We have to stick around then?" he asked. "For questioning?"

Mike blinked, waking himself from his thoughts before replying.
"They want Jess's Gym group. And anyone who was out of class," he
said, glancing at Adam.

"I was in class," he assured his friend. "For once."

"Good." Mike nodded in approval. "They don't want anyone to leave the 
grounds yet, just in case. We're all supposed to go to our next class 
and stay there."

"I wanna stick with you guys," Jess mumbled.

"You all come to my drama class, then," Zia suggested. "There's
plenty of room for a few extra. We'll just let your teachers know
where you are. They shouldn't mind."

The group moved slowly from the cafeteria, Jess walking between
Stefan and Mike for support.

"Sorry," Jess muttered mutely from beside Stefan.

"For what?" he asked, frowning.

"For breaking down like that. I'm really embarrassed."

"Don't be. You've had a shock."

There was silence for a few moments.

"Should have been me," Jess said softly.

"Huh? How on earth do you figure that?"

"She was putting the netballs back. I was supposed to do that, but
she offered to 'cos I had to go see the nurse. So it should have been
me."

"What's happened has happened. It wasn't you, and you shouldn't be
getting cut up over the fact you're alive."

"Maybe. But if it'd been me, no-one would be dead."

"You can't be sure of that."

Jess looked up at him, anguish plastered over her face. "But /I/
could have protected myself. I could've beaten the crap out of them,
I could have got away. Tatum didn't stand a chance," she wailed.
Stefan looked at her sympathetically. "Oh, forget it." She tried to
wipe away the threatening tears with her sleeve, but it didn't work.
She got up and ran out of the room before Stefan could say anything
else.

"What was that all about?" he asked, turning to Zia in confusion.

Zia looked at Cookie, who nodded and ran after Jess before
answering. "Jess is into self defence. She's a black belt in judo and
karate, and has tried her hands at a couple of other things. She's
right. If it /had/ been her, chances are our killer would be in need
of hospital attention right now." She shrugged. "She'll get over it.
And anyway, I don't think it would have mattered. If they hadn't have
gotten Tatum, they'd've got some other defenceless schmuck. They knew
not to attack Jess."

"You're saying it was a psychotic student?"

"Has to be. Strangers are pretty conspicuous round here. We notice
them easily - and if you got no reason to be here, might as well wear
a sign saying 'Murder Suspect Number One'." She paused. "Sorry. that
was probably in bad taste."

"New student?"

"Not many of those. You and Damon, couple of other transfers and
then the usual batch of kids up from Junior High. Everyone is
established kind of. You and Damon were late-comers, but you have
alibis. Besides, Cookie trusts you." She mustered a weak grin.

Stefan smiled briefly. "Bruce and Lydia?"

"Creeps, but cowards. I don't see either of them having the guts to
do it."

"I don't know. There was /something/ about Lydia."

"Oh, now I didn't say that they wouldn't think about it. I'm sure
they wouldn't think twice about doing it, and they sure as hell
wouldn't feel guilty. No, they wouldn't do it in case they got
caught. Like I said. Cowards."

"People aren't always what they seem," he muttered, a touch sadly.

Zia looked at him strangely. "No, I guess not."

~*~

The bathroom was virtually empty when Cookie poked her head round
looking for Jess. The two kids in there took one look at Cookie, then
a cubicle, and smiled sympathetically before leaving tactfully.
Cookie smiled, nodding her thanks. She positioned herself outside the
cubicle and started scuffing the toe of her sneaker on the floor. The
rubber tip produced an annoying squeak each time it connected with
the shiny tiles.

"Go away," Jess sniffled from inside the cubicle.

"No," Cookie said firmly.

"I don't want to talk." Cookie waited for a few moments, and almost
smiled when Jess spoke again. "It should have been me," she said
pitifully.

"No it shouldn't. And don't talk that way. As cold and callous as
this may sound, I'd rather it was Tatum than you."

"I could have protected myself," she replied stubbornly.

"Yeah, so the bastard wouldn't have gone after you. They were
probably waiting for some weakling, Tatum came along, and she just
happened to be doing a job for you."

"Yeah, for /me/. If I'd done it, no-one would be dead."

"Bullshit. Only difference is it would probably have been a
different person, probably after school, and they'd probably have
stashed the body. At least we know there's a lunatic on the loose now."

Jess unlocked the cubicle and peered round, her face red and
blotchy. Her eyeliner had smeared a little from where she'd rubbed
her eyes. "You don't blame me?"

"No. And neither does anyone else."

"Tatum would."

"Somehow, I don't think so. You see things differently on the other
side." She pulled Jess into a hug. "Besides which, she'd probably be
ecstatic with the attention she's getting."

Jess mustered a weak smile. "I guess."

"You need me to tell you you're being a soppy fool?"

"You just did."

"Well, now you know for sure. Come on. Toughen up. The Jess I know
wouldn't go to pieces over this. She'd be calm and collected."

"We all have our off days."

"What did you have to go to the nurse for, anyway?"

"Dizzy spells." Jess grimaced. "Nothing to worry about, though," she
hastily assured her friend.

"OK. So I guess it's just one big emotional overload for you today,
huh?"

"Yeah. I just wanna crawl back into my bed."

"How about crawling back up to the drama studio with me?"

"Ok." Jess nodded.

"Just clean your face up first." She pointed to the mirror. Jess
gave a little mock shriek, and started to wipe her face.

~*~

"I can't believe we're gonna be dealing with Bruce and Lydia on a
daily basis," Mike complained.

"Hey, at least you don't have to live with them," Adam snapped.

"So-orry," Mike snapped back.

"Quit it, you guys," Zia ordered. "We shouldn't be arguing with each
other."

"Maybe we need to talk about something else," Damon suggested. They
all looked at him. He'd been quiet for a while.

"Like what? It's this, or Tatum," Adam pointed out.

"He's right," Jess said. "We need to be doing something else. Take
our minds of things. I know I do. I'm still waiting for the police
to question me, and it's making my stomach knot just thinking about it."

"So what do we do?" Adam asked.

"Homework?" Cookie suggested, glaring pointedly at him.

"Like they're gonna want it in after this. Chances are we won't even
be at school tomorrow."

"We are," Stefan put in. Adam's face fell. "I overheard Miss Holling and 
Mr Keach talking about it a little while ago," he explained, careful not 
to mention that they'd not even been in the room at the time, but in the 
hallway having a private and worried conversation. The nauseating kissing
noises that had followed were something he was trying his best to forget.

"So you could do your homework and get it out of the way. With your
brains you'll have it out of the way in no time." Cookie told him
smugly.

"Yeah, yeah," Adam grumbled, pulling some books out of his bag.

"I'll help you with that chemistry now, if you like," Stefan offered
to Zia, who smiled gratefully.

Cookie pulled out a notepad and settled back in her seat.

"What's the deal with you and Adam?" Damon asked, appearing suddenly
at her side. She jumped only a little.

"What?"

"How come you're in the same year? You're not twins."

"Uh, we were born in the same school year," she muttered vaguely,
uncomfortable with the question. She didn't elaborate any more.

"That ends that topic of discussion." He stared absently at the
ceiling for a few moments before looking back. "What are you doing?"
he asked, pointing to her pad.

"Writing," she said distractedly.

"Writing what?"

She put the pen down, and glared at him. "Are you going to keep
bugging me?"

"Just trying to be friendly," Damon said holding his hands up in
defeat and flashing a smile.

"Sorry." Cookie sighed. "Uh, what I'm doing is interpreting dreams."

"Dreams."

"Yeah. You should always keep an eye on your dreams. They tell you a
lot."

"Mine don't."

"I'm sure they do."

"I don't dream."

"Oh, come on. /Everyone/ dreams."

"I don't. Or very rarely, anyway."

"Hmm." Cookie arched a brow at him. He ignored it.

"So what's this one about?"

"Not much. Although I keep having dreams of crows lately." She
frowned as Damon tried to hide a startled flinch. *What's that
about?* She wondered, but put it to the back of her mind for the
moment.

"What does that mean?" Damon asked politely.

"Normally, a crow is a bird of ill omen, foretelling death, bad
times to come."

"So, don't trust the crow." He sounded a little bitter as he said this.

Something clicked in Cookie's mind. "That's not it. Well, not in
this case. I think that in this case the crow isn't a symbol in
itself, but more a representation of a person."

"Oh?" Damon asked, his attention fully on her now, expression openly
interested.

"Yeah. Part of my dream is that there's this Power threatening me,
and it's /bad/. I know I can't beat it, but I stand up to it anyway,
fighting it, refusing to submit to it. It sends this bolt of dark
energy towards me, and I know that I'm gonna die. Then Death itself
swoops in to claim me in the form of a crow. Time with the dark Power
stops, and it's just me and the crow. It flies straight at me, going
for the kill as it were, and I fling my arms up to protect myself.
Then something inside me tells me to put my arms down, to /trust/
what's coming at me to kill me, so I do. And the crow rears up inches
from my face, and it's almost like it's smiling at me, only sort of
compassionate, caring. Then time starts again, and the crow flies at
the Power, taking the dark energy for me. The evil Power is defeated,
and leaves, drained, and then the crow falls to the ground." She
paused, lost in thought. "And I wake up," she finished abruptly.

"Very dramatic," Damon commented dryly. "You have this dream a lot?"

"Several nights over the past three weeks. Including last night," she
replied.

"So, you've interpreted this as?"

"A lesson to quit eating pizza before bedtime."

"Ha ha. I'm being serious."

"Sorry. I'm used to people humouring me out of politeness. If you're
really interested, it's telling me I can trust the crow with my life."

"That it?"

"Nope. I gotta prove that I'm /willing/ to trust the crow, that I'm
not afraid of it, no matter what. That's what the moving my arms from
my face is about."

"And what happens to the crow?"

"I said I woke up," she said shortly.

"But /I/ think you know anyway."

She stared at him a moment. "There are two possibilities," she said
finally. "And they revolve around trust, and another character."

"Who?"

"A falcon."

Damon stifled a resigned sigh. "Go on," he prompted reluctantly.

"This is a part of a dream I had on Saturday night, only in this
dream, the Power returns a little after the crow defeats it.

"After the crow falls, a falcon flies onto the scene. It lands, and
the crow and the falcon face each other, the falcon offering support,
to face the evil with the crow, prepared to die with it, for it even.
They're at a cross-roads. In one direction, the crow refuses the aid
of the falcon, facing the Power by itself. It still defeats the power,
saving me from death, but it pays the price with it's own life."

"The other road?" Damon wet his lips.

"The crow and the falcon accept a bond that has grown between them,
and in doing so, the crow chooses to take the help the falcon is
offering. Together they confront the Power, defeating it easily with
their own Powers combined. And both the crow and the falcon live,
facing a fresh start with their trust in each other." She frowned a
little. "And their love for one another."

They were silent for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts,
before Damon spoke again. "This is all supposition, of course?" he
asked, his complexion paler than it normally was. He was seemingly
shaken.

"It was," She eyed him closely. "Then I met the crow."

"Oh?" He stared at her through narrowed eyes.

"You," she said simply.

"Me?" He laughed nervously. "Perhaps you /should/ stop eating pizza
before bedtime."

"It's you. Believe it or don't, but I do, and that's all that
matters." She shrugged.

"Alright then. If you say so," he said sceptically, shaking his
head. He looked at the floor for a moment. "I was under the
impression dreams changed once you got the message. Yet you had this
one last night? And there I was, thinking that you trusted me."

"I do. And I'm not afraid of you, either. Or rather, I'm not afraid
of what I /know/ of you. You're hiding something. You've got a deep
dark secret that I /should/ perhaps be afraid of. Who knows if I will
be or not. I'll have to wait and find out."

"Who says you /will/ find out?" He smiled at her, drawing back
behind a mask of arrogance. He got up to leave. *Damn,* she thought,
*/Idiot/. You should have steered clear of that topic. He was just
warming up.*

"I'll find out sometime," she called after him. "My dream tells me
that much."

Damon stopped and turned round. The look of anger and desolation on
his face sent a ripple of icy fear up and down her spine. "Trust me.
You really /don't/ want to know my secret," he said, and she believed
him. Oh God, she believed him. He stalked out of the room. Cookie
watched him go, and noticed Stefan watching too, bewilderment showing
openly on his face. He looked over at her, and she looked down at her
notepad quickly to avoid his gaze. *Did he hear us?* she wondered.

~*~

Damon stormed through the empty school corridors. He was shaken. He
felt vulnerable, and he didn't like feeling vulnerable. It made him
weak, and Damon Salvatore, Prince of Darkness, was /not/ weak. He
used the feelings as fuel for anger against himself, then the world,
then Cookie. But his mind went in loops, and, for once, he was unable
to stay angry at the girl. It wasn't her fault. He was the one that
asked /her/ about her stupid dreams. He growled at himself in frustration. 
He needed to hunt. He needed the thrill of the chase. He needed to 
reassert his feelings of power, because powerful was something he'd lost 
his grip on back there. He headed for the main entrance.

"Sorry, son, but you can't leave," a cop said, placing a hand on his
shoulder to restrain him. Damon turned, growled, and threw the hand
off before storming past and through the door. He paused as an
afterthought and turned.

"Forget I was ever here," he said, sending a forceful burst of Power
with it. The cop blinked, confused, not seeing Damon anymore. Then he
winced, putting his hand to his head, muttering about a headache. He
hadn't needed to use that much Power. He'd done it out of spite,
something to prove he was still the old Damon. *But why do you need
to prove it at all?* he asked himself. *Because you /aren't/ the old
Damon anymore?* He growled again. *So what am I? The new model caring-
sharing Damon for the nineties? Oh, puh-/lease/. Choke on your own
sentimentality, why don't you.* He started running for the woods,
driving his thoughts away from his inner-self, to safer topics to
cause anger.

Stefan.

Oh, yes, how /wonderful/. He was supposed to put his trust in /that/
weakling? Then again, trust wasn't the problem. He could be /trusted/
alright, what with that annoying code of honour he followed. The
problem was that Damon didn't want to rely on Stefan. He didn't
want to rely on anyone. Admitting to Stefan that he needed him was
not an appealing thought. He wouldn't want to give his brother the
satisfaction. As for /love/. The thought was repulsive. *But you /do/
love him.* His mind threw at him cruelly. *You /care/. You showed
that when Elena came back, when he was dying. You didn't want to
lose him then, and you want that even less now.* He scowled. He was
even against himself now. He stopped in the middle of the woods,
panting a little and leaned against a tree to rest a moment. He
opened his senses for anything to run after and kill, but his mind
mocked him. *Looking for something to kill? What about that building
full of people back there? Why didn't you go on a killing spree?
Revel in the blood of some screaming and fearful /humans/. You're
getting as bad as Stefan. You're starting to /care/ about them. He
stood up straight and screamed at the sky.

"I don't give a damn, you here? I don't give a damn about /anyone/
except myself! Not them, not anyone. Especially not my brother!" He
stood like that for a minute before slipping down the tree, and
sitting with his head in his hands. *Who are you trying to kid?* he
asked himself. *If you don't care, why are you here? Why did you move
here with Stefan? Why are you living with him? Why are you bothering
with this dumb school idea? You never liked it in the first place,
you're just doing this to please /him/. If you weren't, you'd leave.
Now. This minute. It's not safe to stick in a place where a murder
happened.*

But deep within, Damon had to admit that he couldn't leave. That he
didn't want to. *Five centuries of not giving a damn are finally
getting to you. It's all very well not caring for anyone, but who've
you had to care about you? No-one. And then you start to get on with
your brother, your only link with the past.* He squeezed his eyes
shut. *Can I /really/ blame myself for letting it happen?* He sighed.

"Alright, dammit," he whispered angrily. "I care, alright. I /do/
give a damn." He sat for a few moments, not thinking. And he caught
the scent of a deer. He grinned savagely, and set off in pursuit.

"Of course," he told the woodland in general, "I'm only going to
admit that to /myself/. No need to let anyone else know."

He whooped and laughed loudly, concentrating on the chase, letting
his nature take over his senses.

~*~

It was late, nearing midnight. They sat in silence. Stefan wasn't
entirely sure why he was there, except that he'd found himself being
dragged back by the group. Not that he'd protested. They were in
Adam's attic bedroom. Large, sprawling and spacious, there were
windows facing south, east and west, with heavy drapes to cover them.
Right now they were open, letting moon and starlight in. Stefan sat
in the window seat of the south facing window, Cookie in the west.
Zia, Jess and Mike sat on Adam's large bed. Adam himself was pounding
away at the keyboard of a computer that sat on a long bench on the
north wall. It was littered with what looked like spare computer
parts and various electronic appliance innards.

None of them knew where Damon had gotten to for the rest of the day,
and Stefan was beginning to worry. He wasn't sure if he was more
worried about his brother, or the population of Redditch in general.
He was also worried about the murder. Events at Fell's Church had
warned him that murders seemed to get pinned on the new kid, and he
didn't like what the cause of death indicated. All it needed was
another Alaric Saltzman to come along and make links that weren't
there, and Stefan and Damon could be the target of a witch-hunt. *Or
rather vampire hunt.* He grinned to himself, looking at their own
resident witch, Cookie. He was pleased to notice that Jess had calmed
down considerably. The questioning had been routine, and she'd been
out relatively quickly.

"Adam, would you please /stop/ that racket," Cookie yelled finally,
the strain getting to her.

"It's taking my mind off things," her brother replied without
looking up.

"Well tap quietly then," she snapped. Then, after a moment. "What
are you doing, anyway?"

"Just surfing the 'Net." He shrugged.

"Duh. The caterwauling that thing produces when you log on gave that
little revelation away. I /meant/ what were you looking at."

"Porn sites, probably," Mike snickered. Adam looked up long
enough to give the other boy a filthy look before turning his
attention back to the screen.

"I'm downloading a graphics program if you /really/ want to know."

"Uh huh. Would that be a shareware copy, or are you stealing a copy."

"What do you think?"

"Stealing. Or one of those '30 day trial' offers that you'll keep on
using afterwards."

"Don't they have passwords and shit that lock you out of those?" Zia
inquired.

"On some, yeah," Adam muttered.

"I guess he just re-installs them after the 30 days are up." Cookie
shrugged.

Adam smirked. "Gee, you are so uneducated when it comes to
computers, aren't you? Ah, the joys of hacks, cracks, and serial
number generators."

"Which are probably illegal," Cookie noted dryly.

"How does it feel to have a criminal for a brother?" Jess laughed at
Adam's sheepish grin.

"So long as he doesn't drag me down with him, he can break into Fort
Knox for all I care."

Adam looked round at the group. "Now, /there's/ an idea." He beamed,
doing a veritable impression of the Cheshire Cat.

"You could do that?" Stefan asked, surprised.

"If it's on a computer system, chances are I can get into it."

"You could get into police files?" he asked, his mind whirring.

"Yeah," Adam said swivelling his chair round to look at the vampire.
"You want the Tatum Kent file, huh?"

Stefan nodded. "If it's on the computer yet."

"It should be. I doubt the autopsy report'll be in yet - cause of
death being kind of obvious they might take their time. But I'll
still give it a go. Leave me to it, and I might even pull the autopsy
for you by tomorrow." He frowned. "Why are you so interested in it?
The police'll release the details soon enough," Adam said.

"I just think that the killer won't stop at Tatum," Stefan replied.
*And by the time they release the details, it may be too late for
myself and Damon. I just want to make sure there's nothing to worry
about,* he added to himself uneasily.

~*~

Damon was sitting on the couch flicking through the television
channels when Stefan got back from Adam's at one in the morning.

"What time do you call this?" Damon said mockingly. "Tomorrow's 
a school day."

"Then why are you still up?" Stefan shot back, flopping down
unceremoniously next to his brother. "What's on?" he asked.

"Umpteen million channels, and you have to ask 'what's on?'"

"Nothing?" Stefan hazarded.

"How'd you guess," he replied, flipping the remote to Stefan.

"Man, and we /pay/ for this?" he asked, flicking through half-
heartedly. He gave up and started rummaging under the couch for the
TV guide.

"What's more worrying is that we're actually sitting here watching
it /despite/ complaining," Damon commented.

"You didn't think to rent something out?"

"I only got in an hour ago. Most rental stores aren't as nocturnal
we are, and the ones that are I doubt you'd be interested in, anyway."

"Where did you get to this afternoon, anyway?" Stefan asked,
ignoring the jibe.

"Nowhere," Damon said, his voice clipped.

"Nowhere? You practically stormed out of the place."

"I said nowhere, I mean nowhere," Damon growled, getting up from the
couch. "It's none of your business," he said, stomping into his room
and slamming the door behind him. Stefan winced a little. *Nice move,
Stefan,* he chided himself. Music started blaring loudly from behind
Damon's closed door. Stefan grimaced and decided to go back out for a
while, not wanting to face the neighbours on the floor below when
they came up to complain.




The Crow and the Falcon. (Six)

Stefan yawned. Tuesday. Just over a week of living there, and he'd
managed to fall in with a close knit group of friends, get
established at school and meet a weird psychotic cousin of one of
said friends. Things were going well. If you excused the murder. One
week into what would hopefully be a long stay, and already trouble
was brewing. It had taken far longer at Fell's Church. And to think
humans normally led mundane lives. He wasn't sure what he and Damon
did to attract unusual people, but they'd been doing it on a regular
basis lately. Surprisingly, despite all this and last night's
tension, he was still on good terms with his brother. The music had
stopped when he got back later that night and when he'd gotten up
that morning, Damon was seated in the kitchen reading a newspaper and
sipping a cup of coffee. Stefan had been slightly taken aback by the
fact his brother was in a good mood, and had commented on it.

"Any reason I shouldn't be?" Damon had replied, politely.

"I guess not. Just after last night...you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." Stefan had known not to push this time. "Just remember, I'm
here for you if you /do/ want to talk." He hadn't waited for Damon's
reply. Instead he picked up his school bag and headed out of the
door, uncomfortably aware of Damon's thoughtful stare on him as he
left.

He yawned again and deftly spun in the code to his locker - a new
locker. He'd been to student services that morning to change it. He
was too tired to be overly bothered by the fact that he'd used his
Powers to get what he wanted. He chalked that up to either Damon's
bad influence, or the fact that Lydia was too weird by even /his/
standards to want to see on a daily basis. He chose the latter. He
wasn't sure he wanted Damon being proud of him for misuse of Power.
*Of course, if you stay friends with Cookie and Adam, chances are
you'll be seeing Lydia on a regular basis, too.* He didn't relish the
thought. He hadn't met Bruce yet, and if Lydia was anything to go by,
he didn't want to.

"You moved lockers? Very sensible," Adam noted, sauntering up to him.

"My God, you're here." Stefan feigned a heart attack and grinned.
Adam rolled his eyes, but grinned back anyway. The started walking
down the hall.

"Yeah. Cookie was muttering about the three-fold law last night and
Bruce and Lydia getting what's coming to them."

"What does that have to do with school?"

"I had this horrible vision of that applying to me. I'd end up
spending eternity chained to a desk in Mrs Barclay's art room." He
grinned.

Stefan chuckled. "I doubt that would put you off."

"Well, no. Mom's muttering about if I don't go I might as well pull
out and get a full time job."

"You wouldn't want that?"

"Hell no. I may be a genius, but I'm also incredibly lazy."

"What do you want to do then?"

"Mess around for a couple of years, then get some high paid computer
programming job. If Bill Gates can do it, then so can I."

"Bill Gates?" Stefan was puzzled.

"You know. Microsoft...Windows and all that shit."

"Ah, I'll take your word for it." Stefan grinned at him apologetically.

"Geesh. You'd think you'd be living in the Dark Ages to not know
that."

"More like the Renaissance," Stefan laughed softly.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. I just meant I was a technological idiot, but not a total
technophobe," Stefan covered the slip quickly.

"Oh?"

"Hey, I can program the video recorder!" the vampire defended himself.

"That's good." Adam nodded. "I can't."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. Our video hates me for some reason. It won't do anything when
I set it. I think it doesn't like me because it thinks I want to take
it apart." He laughed, then cackled evilly. "Just wait until I get my
hands on it when Mom buys a new one." He mimed stabbing at the air while
making the Psycho sound effects.

Stefan laughed. Then, after a few moments of companionable silence,
"You get anything from the police?"

Adam's mood darkened. "Yeah. Interesting stuff." He looked at his
watch. "We don't have the time to go through it now. How about we
meet up in the library at lunch?"

"Sure, okay," Stefan replied.

"Great. I'm gonna head off for history now. Seeya then."

"Later," Stefan replied, and set off for his literature class.

~*~

"I didn't like Henry V when Shakespeare first wrote it," Stefan was
pulled out of his mindless stupor when Damon leaned over to him,
speaking quietly.

"/If/ he wrote it," Stefan said, and grinned back. "What are we 
doing now?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "Act five, scene two. Discuss in detail
Henry's speech 'Marry, if you would put me to verses' up to 'speak,
my fair, and fairly, I pray thee'. We have twenty minutes. So do you
want to get whatever happens to be on your chest off it?"

"Uh, and what about the work?"

"Who cares? It's that sickly scene where Henry professes undying
love to someone he's only just met. Highly unrealistic, filled with
idiotic imagery. You've only got to read it through once and you can
bluff your way through it." He leaned back in his seat and crossed
his arms over his chest. "Out with it."

"Out with what?" Stefan scowled.

"Whatever's been bugging you since the lesson started."

Stefan sighed. "The murder."

"/That/?" Damon laughed loudly. He ignored the look the teacher shot
him. "Is that all?"

"You could be a little more worried," he said quietly, aware of the
other students around him. ((Don't you find it odd that a murder
happens only a week after we turn up?))

((Coincidence.))

((Still dangerous. All we need is the wrong person to start asking
the wrong questions and it could start finger pointing at us.))

((Alright. So there's a risk. But it's minimal. Stop worrying - the
police are going to write this off as a psycho on the loose. They'll
find the person doing this, put him in a mental institute...))

((/Him/ in the girls showers?))

((Peeping Tom, perhaps. Anyway. Boy, girl, androgynous being -
they'll catch it, and then we'll be virtually safe again.))

((Don't be so sure.))

((What does that mean? What do you know that I don't?)) Damon asked
suspiciously.

((Adam hacked into the police files.))

((And?)) Damon picked up on the urgency.

((He's seen it. He said, and I quote, 'Interesting stuff'. It's not
your everyday murder. They did the autopsy faster than Adam thought
they would, too. There's something that's made them suspicious.))

((On the other hand, she was popular, and from I can gather, the
Kents are influential round here. If her parents put pressure on the
police, they're not going to sit on there backsides eating donuts on
this one, are they?))

((Alright. You have a point there. But I still want to look at the
report before I feel at ease about this.))

((Whatever makes you happy.)) Damon shot him an amused grin.

((I'd prefer a look at the body. But she's not Sue Carson in a
funeral home. I don't want to try and get in the morgue unless I
/really/ have to.))

"Salvatore. Care to enlighten the group with your thoughts on
Shakespeare's presentation of Henry in this scene?" The teacher broke
in, a look of grim satisfaction on his face.

"Uh..." Stefan began.

"It's reminding the audience that he's a normal human being with
feelings, which we probably forget after his portrayal as cold
military leader in the previous acts..." Damon put in smoothly,
delivering an analysis that left the teacher's mouth hanging open.
((Well, he didn't say /which/ Salvatore,)) Damon told his brother,
amused.

((Do you want to come with me to look at the report at lunch?))
Stefan asked, grinning at Damon's obvious enjoyment at shocking the
teacher.

((Might as well. Nothing else to do. And if it doesn't tell us
anything informative, it might at least be entertaining.))

((That wasn't in good taste,)) Stefan chided him.

((Do you really expect anything different from me?)) Damon asked
blithely.

((Not really.)) Stefan sighed.

~*~

The library was normally empty during lunch, and today was no
exception. Stefan, Damon and Mike had been waiting for twenty minutes
by the time Adam turned up.

"Sorry I'm late. Mr Wentworth kept me back after class."

"What for?" Mike asked.

"To congratulate me on turning up and to give me back an essay on
the human reproductive system."

"What grade?"

"A."

"Did I need to ask?" Mike grinned. "You're a creep, you know that?
You do no work, yet you still manage to get As in everything."

"Except art. Don't forget I flunked."

"You have no idea how much that eases my ego," Mike replied
sarcastically.

"Where are the girls?" Adam asked.

"The Gym teacher wanted to see them," Damon responded.

"Something about helping them deal with Tatum's death, explaining
why they wouldn't be having gym sessions for the rest of the week,
and to help them get over the fact it happened in the shower room.
Apparently a lot of the girls don't want to shower in school
anymore." Stefan added.

"I would," Damon commented. "Morbid curiosity."

"You're also sick and insensitive," Stefan pointed out.

"That too," Damon said cheerfully. "So are we going to see this
report or not? I thought it was pretty simple. Slit throat, doesn't
take a forensic pathologist to work out the cause of death."

"Cause of death, yeah. Eventually," Adam said, looking a little ill.
He pulled out a plastic folder with some printed sheets inside. "Et
voila. Police report, complete with autopsy. Skip the police file -
it basically says no suspects as of yet, blah blah, yadda yadda. It's
the autopsy you should see. Although I think that's what you wanted
in the first place."

Stefan flipped the file open, reading out relevant bits for Damon
and Mike's benefit. He had the impression Adam would be happy if he
never heard it again. "Okay. Cause of death was indeed the slit
throat." He scanned quickly down the page, and frowned. "Not the only
injury sustained, though. Stab wound to the abdomen. Blade used was
sharp, probably the size of a kitchen knife."

"Where on the abdomen?" Damon asked.

"Around the navel." Stefan replied.

"Solar Plexus." Damon muttered, almost to himself. He leaned back,
looking troubled. "Go on." He said, waving his hand at his brother.

Stefan went back to the file. His eyebrows shot up. "That's weird." 

"Let me guess." Damon leaned forward. "Little or no blood loss from
that particular wound."

"Yeah." Stefan replied, puzzled.

"Inflicted after death, then?" Mike suggested.

"No, it says here it was likely /before/ death. Signs of struggle
blah blah. How they find out half this stuff is beyond me."

"I told you it was interesting," Adam said looking up from a book
he'd plucked off of the shelf. "Keep on going. It gets better."

"Don't bother," said Damon. "I'll hazard a guess as to the rest of
it."

"You mean you've seen this before?" Mike asked, surprised.

"Maybe," he told the red-head, then turned to his brother. "Does it
seem as if she's perhaps /aged/ at all?"

"It doesn't say that exactly," Stefan replied uneasily. "Some
medical babble about decomposition and the like."

"But it sounds to you as if she'd aged?"

"Yeah."

"Right." Damon sat back in his seat again, brooding on his thoughts.

"What do you know about this then?" Adam asked.

"I might say the same to you," Damon replied. "Most people would
have just dismissed all that. You didn't, you said it was interesting, 
and it's playing on your mind. Something's obviously not right. Care to 
tell me your thoughts?"

Adam looked at him oddly. "Some things my Mom talks about stick
here," he said, tapping his head. "The navel is the location of the
third chakra."

"The /what/?" Mike frowned.

"Chakra," Stefan replied. "Energy centres, organs of the spiritual
body."

"Carry on, Adam," Damon invited. "What is the third chakra ruler of?"

"Lifeforce and Willpower," Adam replied. "That's all I know. You
gonna tell us what's hooked your interest now?"

"I'd be interested to know that," Stefan frowned at his brother.

"Based on what Adam has just told us, I can tell you part of why she
was killed."

"Well?" Stefan prompted after a moments silence.

"Lifeforce. Someone tapped straight into the centre for Lifeforce.
The idea is that you open up the chakras spiritually for
enlightenment and well being - all that New Age mumbo jumbo," Damon
explained. "However, in this case someone has decided to get to that
centre to drain away the Lifeforce. That's why she appears to have
aged - her life energy has been taken."

"Why?" Mike exploded, earning a look of annoyance from several of
the more studious students using the library.

Damon shrugged. "A number of reasons. Most likely magic. Certainly
for nothing good. If it was they'd have found a different way to
gather Lifeforce - tapped into their own or enlisted the help of
someone willing. The lack of blood loss from the wound suggests the
energy cauterised the wound on the way out. Spiritually speaking, of
course."

"What kind of magic?" Mike asked.

"Bad, bad, bad magic," Adam replied, looking sick. "If whoever it is
stole Lifeforce and killed Tatum, then it must be real bad. And the
only thing I can think of that they'd need Lifeforce for that's really 
bad is to bring someone back."

"Back?"

"From the other side. From death," Stefan told him.

"Necromancy?" Mike looked disgusted.

"Something like that," Adam nodded.

"If that's what happened - and I think it is - then it won't stop
with Tatum," Damon said darkly. "We can expect more killings to take
place."

Everyone was silent at that. Finally Mike spoke again. "We have to
stop this."

Stefan nodded in agreement. "We will. Somehow," he promised. He
looked at Damon. ((You with us?))

Damon stared back, considering, before he replied. ((You need me.))

((That's a yes? Without having to be convinced?)) Stefan was
surprised.

((Don't make me say it, or you might find me siding with the other
guy.)) Stefan could tell he didn't really mean it, though.

"Guys?" Mike sounded as if he was repeating himself.

"What?" Damon asked, coming back to the real world.

"If this is gonna turn into some weird serial killing, I think you
should keep what you know quiet," he replied. "We know you didn't do
this, but if someone gets wind that you know of a reason for this to
take place, then you'll go up there on the suspect list."

"Good point," Stefan noted.

"If you're not on the list already," Adam said nervously.

"What does that mean?" Damon frowned.

"It means that they'll be checking up on out of town students. See
if any lunatics have enrolled themselves into the school."

"And?" Damon asked.

"To put it bluntly, you'll be number one on the list of suspects.
You," he said to Stefan, "Have a record from Robert E. Lee that is
sketchy, and what there is of it is not what you'd call good. And
you," he turned to Damon, "Appear to have no record at all. Now if
/I/ were a cop and found that interesting piece of information, alarm
bells would be ringing. It looks like a case of someone making up
their background. Which is something that someone who has something
to hide would do."

The brothers stared at each other. ((I would say that it would be
sensible to leave,)) Damon told his brother.

((You would, would you?)) Stefan asked lightly.

((I /would/. Except I know damn well you won't go, and as much as I
hate to admit this, I'm not leaving you.))

Stefan was near speechless. */Damon/ is telling me this?*

((Besides which,)) Damon added nonchalantly, ((If we leave it's like
admitting we had something to do with it.))

((So what do we do about these records?))

Damon didn't answer. Instead he turned to Adam. "I have something to
admit to."

"Oh?" Adam asked politely.

"I never attended Robert E. Lee."

"I guessed as much."

"And they won't find anything about either of us beyond that."

"Uh huh."

((How serious is this situation?)) Stefan asked.

((Deadly,)) Damon replied. ((There are a number of things that you
can use Lifeforce for. And if they're killing someone to get it, it's
not good. Apart from bringing back the dead, there are quite a few
nasty little spells you can use it for, and the chances are it will
bring about death in a nasty way.))

((We have to tell them,)) Stefan said after a moment. ((We can't not
help. We're probably the best hope they have in stopping this -
they'll try and do it with or without our help. If we're open with
them, it makes life easier for all of us.))

((And if they can't take it, if they want nothing to do with us?))

((I guess we leave,)) he replied reluctantly. ((After dealing with
the problem as best we can from the shadows.)) Damon was silent.
((Well?)) Stefan prodded.

Adam and Mike were looking at them strangely. They'd been silent for
too long.

"As I was saying," Damon continued where he had left off, his
attention on Adam "They won't find any background on us whatsoever.
So, if you were feeling bored later on, perhaps you could focus your
energy on a creative writing task."

"You want me to fabricate some school records for you?" Adam grinned
slyly.

Damon grinned. "You catch on fast. Nothing fancy. Something average
and normal."

((/Well?/)) Stefan prodded again, feeling exasperated.

Damon frowned and flashed him an annoyed look. ((I'm getting to it.))

((You're a stubborn asshole. That doesn't tell me anything.))

"Just one little thing, Adam. Before you do anything for us, you
might want to know who you're dealing with."

"That might be courteous, yeah."

"You know where our apartment is?" Damon inquired. Adam and Mike
both nodded. "Come round tonight at, say, eight o'clock. Bring the
girls. I'll tell you then."

"Eight," Mike affirmed, looking intrigued.

"You might want to bring a /very/ stiff drink," Damon added, almost
as an afterthought.

~*~

The evening dragged on. The pair of them had been out hunting early,
and had arrived back not long before. For once, Damon had gone with
Stefan, and although he complained bitterly about it the whole way,
he'd settled for the rabbit and fox blood from the woodland animals
they'd caught. It had only re-affirmed his preference for human
blood, but it served the purpose of avoiding winding Stefan up
needlessly. Besides, even he had to admit to himself he wasn't up for
an argument about morals this evening. It would only hinder them in
the long run.

Stefan was visibly nervous - he'd already broken two glasses from
exerting too much pressure on them. Damon wasn't about to admit it,
but he felt just as uneasy. He hated deliberately revealing himself.
And he was about to do it to five people. One of whom was a witch,
trouble if things went the wrong way. Jess would be a threat in
Damon's opinion if that happened. Humans who knew martial arts and
were /good/ at them tended to be bad news in his experience. If this
went the wrong way, it could /really/ go wrong for them. The only
thing going for them at the moment was that the group already
suspected something was being kept from them.

"We've known them for four days and we're telling them this
already?" Stefan looked dazed.

"I've known the twins for a week if that makes you feel any better."
Damon offered. Stefan glared at him. "I guess not," he said,
retreating to the sitting room to rot his mind watching TV.

"There's nothing on," Stefan said, following him from the kitchen.

"I didn't expect there to be," Damon said dryly.

"What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty." Damon replied, shaking his head. "There's a clock on
the video player, a clock in the kitchen, /and/ you're wearing a
watch."

"Can I help it if I'm nervous?"

"It's not too late to make up some story to tell them. Witness
protection plan, maybe."

"No. We tell the truth," Stefan said firmly.

"Then resign yourself to it, and stop feeling nervous. You're
driving me up the wall. We should be relaxed."

"Easier said than done."

"Put it this way. If it blows up in our face and we end up with five
hysterical and frightened teenagers on our hands, I don't know if I
can control myself. We don't want five bodies, and if this goes badly
and I'm uptight, we /will/ have. Now, I know you want them left
alive, so for /their/ sakes, let /me/ relax." Damon was relieved to
see his brother relax himself after a few moments. He switched the TV
on and started the mindless game of channel hopping.

"If you do that much faster, you'll break the remote," Stefan
commented after a few minutes. "As it is you should come with a
government health warning about epilepsy."

"Oh, very funny." Damon scowled, finally stopping on a channel
showing a documentary about lemmings.

"I feel like a lemming at the moment," Stefan commented after a while.

"Huh?"

"Suicidal. What we're about to do is suicidal."

Damon digested this for a few seconds. "Well, this is obviously a
good omen then."

"How'd you figure that?"

"Lemmings don't commit suicide. It's all a myth."

"Oh. You know, you know some really useless shit." Then after a minute more.
"TV opens up too many topics of philosophical and mystical debate.
We're getting a games system."

"You can get lemmings on those, too," Damon pointed out, grinning.

"So we sit in front of a blank screen?"

"Definitely not. We might start pondering the meaning of life then,
and that would /never/ do."

Stefan tried to bite back a laugh, but failed miserably. "You're an
idiot, you know that?" he said, grabbing a cushion and hitting Damon
with it. "You should be locked up."

"What games system?" Damon asked, attempting to keep the light mood
going.

"Why ask me? I don't know a thing about them. Ask Adam." He sighed.
"/If/ he's still talking to us after this." He turned his attention
back to the screen, and stared at it with a pensive expression on his
face until there was a knock at the door. Damon answered it.

"Hi," Mike said. "Can we come in?"

"Of course," Damon replied, grinning to himself as he stepped aside.

"We told the girls about the autopsy report," Adam said as he passed.

"That makes this evening a little less complicated." Damon
commented. "Go on through to the sitting room. Sit wherever."

"Neat place," Zia told him. Damon nodded in agreement. Top floor,
easy access to the roof, and the fire escape. There were only three 
floors below them, and the bottom floor wasn't occupied. Private enough. 
The ideal apartment for a vampire. Or it would be if they stayed.

Everyone was assembled in the sitting room. Stefan had vacated his
place on the couch and moved to the window seat. Not necessarily to
make more room. Damon guessed that Stefan was trying to put a
comfortable distance between himself and the humans to make things
easier if things started to look bad. Silence descended on the room.

"So, spill," Cookie said eventually. "What's this secret that I
/really/ don't want to know?" She was looking directly at Damon, a
small smile playing on her lips. Damon didn't smile back. He remained
deadly serious. He had the impression that the girl might even be
feeling smug she'd been proved right she was going to find out.
Whether or not she would be when she actually found out remained to be seen.
He moved carefully over towards Stefan, putting the group between the
vampires and the door. A small gesture that they didn't mean harm.
Escape was there if the mortals so desired.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Jess put in after
a few more moments. "You've not known us for even a week - we'll
understand if you don't want to trust us with whatever it is."

"No. You have a right to know," Stefan told them. "We didn't want to
tell you yet. We didn't know how things would work out. Then this
happened, and we don't really have much choice. It's only fair that
you know."

"Of course, I would like you to understand /before/ you hear what we
have to tell you that we're on your side. I want you to be clear
about that."

"Okay. Whatever," Cookie said a little testily. "You're on our side. 
Want to tell us your secret now?"

Damon frowned. "Are you in a bad mood? You're being a little short
tempered tonight."

"/You/ try living with Bruce and Lydia. One more week and I'm
seriously going to consider killing them. There's no way in hell I
can survive a whole /year/."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So /please/ get on with it."

Damon exchanged a glance with Stefan and shrugged.

"Where to start." Stefan sighed. "Alright. First of all, Cookie
already knows something."

The group turned to look at her. "They're telepathic," she told
them. "They talk to each other with their minds."

"Cool." Zia grinned. "How'd you know that?"

"She unknowingly broadcasted her thoughts to me, and I couldn't
resist replying," Damon explained.

"That it?" Mike asked surprised.

*You'll wish that was it when you find out the truth.* Damon
thought.

"No," Stefan replied.

"So what is it then?"

"Would you believe us if we told you we'd been hanging around for
the past five centuries?" Stefan asked.

The group grinned and started chuckling. All except for Cookie who
looked at them through narrowed eyes. "Maybe," she said finally.
Everyone shut up and looked at her wide eyed. "So what are you, then?"

((Convince her, we convince them all,)) Damon told his brother.
Stefan nodded slightly.

"Here goes nothing," Stefan muttered.

"We're vampires," Damon told the group.

Pandemonium ensued.





The Crow and the Falcon. (Seven)

"Vampires?" Adam laughed. "Great joke. Maybe you guys are psychos
after all." The rest of them laughed with him, finding it highly
amusing. Again, except for Cookie.

"Prove it," she demanded.

Stefan looked at Damon, inviting him to do the honours. He shrugged
slightly, then faced the group again. He waited a moment to get their
attention. Then, when his eye-teeth had lengthened, he pulled back
his lips, bared his fangs and hissed. Silence from the guests.

"You can get dentures that do that," Zia suggested uneasily.

"No. These are most definitely real," Damon said, voice low,
intense, and /dangerous/. "Feel them if you don't believe me."

"Uh, I think I'll pass," she said. All of the group were pale, and
tension was running high. They didn't know what to believe.

"She's right, though. You can get fangs made up - they do it in the
movies," Jess commented.

"What else do you want me to do to prove it?"

"Fry in sunlight?" Mike suggested.

"No thank you. Being burned is /not/ very pleasant."

"He has a point," Cookie said. "We've seen you in sunlight quite a
bit. Okay you wear sunglasses, but so do a lot of people."

"Talisman," Stefan said simply, holding up his hand and displaying
his ring. "Lapis Lazuli..."

"The Night Stone," Cookie nodded, finishing for him. "That means we
can't prove or disprove it that way. Frying you would defeat the
object."

"Indeed," Damon said, looking lazily around the room. His eyes fell
on a baseball bat Stefan had bought over the weekend. "Pass me that,
would you?" he asked Adam, who passed it wordlessly to him. He hefted
it in his hand a moment. Sturdy. Strong. "You'd agree that it's a
solid piece of wood?" he asked Adam, who nodded. "Good," he said, and
promptly snapped it in half with one hand. A moment of stunned silence.

"Some people are very strong," Cookie commented. "Although I have to
admit that's pretty convincing."

"You want more proof?" Damon asked. "You want me to drain one of you
here and now to prove it?" They looked shocked. "Oh, don't worry.
You're safe from me. I promise not to harm /you/. Perhaps you'd like
me to jump from the top of the building and survive, or run a hundred
metres in a second? Or maybe turn into a bat?"

"The last might clinch it," Jess said in a strangled voice.

"Sorry. No can do," he smiled savagely, and looked straight at
Cookie. "It's a crow that I can do, and frankly I don't want to do it
in front of you. It would make me feel a little too naked."

Cookie stared at him. Pale, but intense. Frightened, but not giving
in to her fear. Oh yes, she was right. She had to earn his trust by
trusting him. And she was doing it, and earning his respect along the
way.

"Prove it to me," she said earnestly. "Let me in."

"I can't," he said simply.

"/Why not/?"

"Because what you would see there would defeat the purpose of
trusting you with this little secret. Although you have a good idea
there. Perhaps Stefan would oblige you with that and let his shields
down?" he asked his brother. "You haven't got any dirty little
secrets to hi..." He opened his eyes wide with shock, then collapsed
to his knees, grasping his head in pain. "Then again," he rasped,
"Why bother when it appears it's my head she wants to get into.
Cookie blacked out, and he followed seconds later, only vaguely aware
that Stefan had rushed to his side in concern.

~*~

Blackness. He was floating in blackness. Lost, confused, and angry.
Where most people would have been afraid, Damon Salvatore was angry.
He reached out into the dark, and found the intruder.

"I said /no/," he spat. "I didn't want you in my mind. I didn't want
you knowing my past."

"Well I'm here now. You might as well show me," Cookie's voice was
shaky.

"No," he growled.

"Fine. I'll find out myself."

"Don't you /dare/," he snapped.

"Why?"

"I said that I didn't want you in my mind," he repeated.

"I don't see why. You make this big show to let everyone know you
don't give a damn, that you don't care what they think of you, yet
when it comes to the crunch...well, you're hiding. Why?"

"I've got nothing to hide from."

"Yourself, maybe."

Damon laughed loudly. "Myself? Oh, no. The one thing I /am/ sure of
is myself. I have no need to hide from me."

"Really?" Cookie's tone was mocking. "The few times I've sensed your
feelings, you've been confused. Mostly about yourself."

"I /know/ myself," he growled. He could feel the situation slipping
away from him. "I know my past, and I do /not/ need to hide from it."

"Maybe /you/ don't need to, but it seems you need to hide it from
everyone else. Perhaps you're ashamed of it."

/That/ amused him. He started laughing uncontrollably. "I regret
/nothing/ of my past. It's the only stable thing I have to cling on
to. I'm not ashamed."

"Aren't you?"

"No," he said viciously. "Have you finished psycho-analysing me?"

"No. You see, you might /think/ you're not ashamed, but I hear this
little voice. You try and hide it, you try and ignore it, but it's
still there. And it worries about Stefan. What he thinks of you. You
try and show him that you don't care, but in little ways you change
yourself, you try and alienate Stefan a little less. Because you /do/
care. You've changed, you have to have done. Because you say your
past is bad, yet you won't let me see it. Why?"

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me," he said dryly.

"Because if you were the bad person from back then, you wouldn't
think twice about showing it to me. You'd probably have gotten a
perverse amount of pleasure from it, in fact. You say you don't care
about your past - that may be. But you still want to protect others
from it. You've developed a conscience."

Damon snorted. "A conscience. How quaint. And how did I acquire
this... conscience?"

"I think Stefan has a lot to do with that."

"You really think I listen to my brother's constant preaching about
morals and honour?" He grinned at Cookie's silence. "Oh yes, didn't
you realise? Stefan is /hardly/ a bloodsucking monster. He has all
these silly little vows of how he won't touch human blood, how he
won't kill humans. All because they're weaker than him, all because
they need protecting. That's why I suggested you asked /him/ to open
up himself to you. Nothing bad there. Just an abundance of sickening,
sanctimonious goodness."

"I think you've just given away more than you intended to. If you
didn't care, why tell me you'd have preferred it to be Stefan rather
than you?"

"Out," he ordered.

"Maybe you don't care about what everyone else thinks."

"Get. Out. Of. My. Mind."

"But I really believe you care what Stefan thinks."

"Stop it. Shut up," Damon growled.

"No matter how you try to hide it from yourself and others, you care
about your brother's opinion," Cookie spoke ruthlessly over him.

"No."

"That's why you want to keep your past from me. You probably don't give 
a damn what I think - although I've yet to persuaded of that."

"There's no truth to this." He'd lost his control of the situation
entirely now, and was nearing breaking point.

"You're doing this for Stefan."

"Please /stop it/."

"It matters to Stefan to fit in, and if your past will hinder that,
then you'll keep it hidden. For Stefan."

Damon was silent for a while. "Why are you doing this?" he asked
finally, bitterly. "Why are you invading my mind, cross examining me,
forcing me to listen to opinions I'm happier not knowing. Why are you
insisting on confusing me?"

"Because I want to know. I /need/ to know what your past is.
Something big is going to happen, something bad, and I need you. /We/
need you. We need you and Stefan. How can I trust you if you keep
something from me, if you keep /yourself/ from me? How am I supposed
to trust and rely on someone who won't trust me?"

Damon was numb. He couldn't muster the strength for anger, he
couldn't hate her for this. He was past that. He sighed, and resigned
himself to his fate. "Fine. I'll show you," he said finally.

"Everything."

A twinge of pain. "Not everything." He could tell she was about to
protest. "Nearly everything. Some things hurt. Some things I have to
keep private - things that Stefan doesn't know, that I'm not ready to
tell him yet, if I ever am. Believe me, anything I keep from you
isn't bad. It might even enamour you to me, but I don't want to
share." He smiled whimsically. "You'll have to trust me on that."

"I'll wait and see about the trust. But I'll respect your wishes,"
she said softly.

And he showed her. From the beginning.

The images flashed by. His mother's death, his pain. The blame he
placed on Stefan, even though he knew deep down that it wasn't his
brother's fault. His animosity towards his brother, the rivalry, the
hatred. His wild days at university, his gambling, his father's
shame. And of Katherine; the desire to steal her from Stefan, to make
him hurt. Then the eventual love, and the loss of that love when
Katherine died, a loss he blamed not only Stefan for, but himself.
The sword fight, his brother's death and his own. The change, the
confusion. The Power. Oh yes, the Power. A revelation to his senses.
The blood lust, and the killings to sate that blood lust. And perhaps
Cookie was right, because looking back, there /was/ some shame. Not
regret, but definitely a little shame. He was ashamed that she was
seeing what he'd done. The savage cruelty he'd inflicted during his
time with mercenary groups. The twisted enjoyment from bloody wars,
terrifying battles.

She was struck dumb. She was appalled, horrified. What he'd done
went against her own spiritual beliefs. *Stefan, I'm sorry. This
isn't going to work,* Damon thought to himself sadly. But still he
showed her everything.

Then came the events of Fell's Church, Katherine's return, Elena's
death, an uneasy alliance with his brother. Their return, Elena's
rebirth. And the night Stefan almost died, his fear that he would
lose his brother, a realisation deep down that he did care. He showed
her the year following, how Elena and Stefan drew apart, and how he
and Stefan had grown closer. And he realised things about himself. He
didn't remember killing of late. He hadn't done it. Of course, there
was Tanner, but he had to admit to himself that was out of self
defence. He had to admit to himself that he hadn't really been doing
much in the way of evil in the past few years. He'd grown bored with
it. Matured. Finally he showed her their arrival in Redditch, he
showed her how he'd reacted in the clearing, how her dream had
affected him. How this was affecting him.

Then he pulled away, drained, miserable. And used. He felt used and
even a little abused. Vulnerable, lost and lonely. He hated himself
for it, berating himself, pulling up mental barriers.

Yet still she probed, for something. He knew what. A dark part of
his heart, a part he kept in shadows, an event that he blocked from
memory. She pushed harder. It was the reason that he'd gone to Fell's
Church those few years later, and attempted to become what he once
was. /That/ had blown up in his face, he noted bitterly. He
reinforced the barriers, stubbornly refusing to let her in, refusing
to let himself go there. It was still too raw. It would always be too
raw. He didn't want to remember. But Cookie still pushed, and she had
strength where he was now lacking. And she pushed through.

~*~

Light. She found light. It was the last thing she expected, but it
was there. Light and love. But also an incredible amount of pain. The
pain that she'd sensed in Jess's room. It came from here. His pain
came from loving. *No wonder he's so afraid to care, to admit he
cares. There's all this hurt that he's got from loving. His Mom,
Katherine, Elena...* And someone else, but whoever it was was just
out of reach. *Stefan's in here. He wasn't before, but he's let him
in. That's helped his heart a little. But it won't matter if he can't
help himself.*

He sat there. She could see him. Small and vulnerable.

*I did this?* she thought with a twinge of guilt.

"Yes. No." He sighed. "It was all here, all inside me. I've done it
to myself. You just made me see it."

"Why do you keep this locked away?" she asked in awe.

"You were right before. It hurts. Love hurts." He looked up then, a
hint of the Damon she knew tingeing his smile. "Besides, out there is
more me. It's my character, the way I am."

"So you ignore love?"

"I'm afraid of this part of me. Love is something tied in with
goodness. I'm not good. I never could be. I could never be like
Stefan - hell, I don't /want/ to be like Stefan. Ever." He grimaced.

"Love is also tied in with passion - something which you have a lot
of. I can't say that what you did wasn't evil. It was, it was pure
evil. But you did whatever you did with a passion. You put your being
into it. You've changed, now. You've grown. Why, I don't know.
Stefan's influence, perhaps, but I think it's more you. You know
the reason - that's what you're not showing me. That's up to you.

"You have a passion for life, whatever form it happens to be in. You
have strength, you have willpower, you have a determination, and a
/drive/ that few people have. You get what you want. No compromises.
And all of that is fuelled from the heart. You should unlock the
door, even if you don't want to open it."

"And change?" he said bitterly. "I don't /want/ to change."

"You already have. You still are. Except locking your feelings away
is taking /away/ any control you might have over that change. You'd
still be you - nothing can change that. You'd still be an arrogant,
pig headed, selfish bastard if you wanted to be. You'd have the
choice."

"If I love, if I care, it all comes crashing down. I have no morals."

"Yes, you do. You proved that already. You stood against Katherine,
you stood against Klaus. You're prepared to stop whoever the hell it
is that killed Tatum. You have morals. You have standards."

"Fine. So I start caring, looking out for the entire human race. Oh,
how satisfying. My reward will surely be in heaven," he said
sarcastically. "I can't change my views. No matter what you say, I
still see the majority of humans as weak, pathetic creatures, who are
just /begging/ to be preyed upon."

"You're not impressing me, and that's not what I meant."

"And what exactly did you mean?" He sneered at her.

"Aren't you tired of relying on just yourself? Don't you want to put
your trust in someone? Don't bother denying it, because I know one
person straight away you would want to. If you learn to love, you can
learn to trust, and being able to put your trust in just one person
makes life bearable. You trust that person, you love that person, you
can lean on that person. You're never alone. You open your heart to
Stefan, you bridge the last bit of the gap between you, and you won't
be alone again. Do yourself a favour. Whatever happens after now, if
you leave tomorrow, you open up to Stefan. Let him know your
feelings, trust him. You don't have to love or trust anyone else
ever. You can go on hating the human race, you can go on killing
them. But you'll at least have Stefan to turn to."

Damon laughed. "Wonderful speech. But you see, Stefan doesn't share
my views. They disgust him. If I went back to my old ways, he'd be
off like a shot. And that might not be a bad idea. But I'll tell you,
he would /not/ appreciate me killing off hapless mortals, and I for
one couldn't stand him complaining about it and trying to make me
change my ways for the rest of eternity."

"You are so dumb."

"So you've been pointing out to me."

"Why the hell do you /think/ he keeps nagging at you?"

"To make my life a misery and to convert yet another to the path of
sickening goodness."

"You dumb-ass!" Cookie exploded. "The reason Stefan nags on at you
is because he actually cares. Unlike /some/ people, he's actually
admitted to himself he cares about you. He's admitted it to you, too."

"No he hasn't."

"Actions speak louder than words," she retorted. "Just sticking by
you proves he cares."

"He made a promise to Elena," he said softly.

"And no-one makes a promise like that unless a part of them /wants/
to. He wouldn't make a promise he couldn't keep. He /knew/ that he
was prepared to make the effort. And he forgave you. That takes a lot
- especially after a lot of the stuff you've done."

The look of defiance left Damon's face, and he slumped again,
staring at the ground. "Fine. I admit I care. I care about my
brother. So what now. I put my trust in him. I open my soul to him. I
let myself get close?" He stood up and leaned towards Cookie, his
face inches from hers. "So what happens when /he/ leaves. What
happens when I can't protect him, when he dies. What good would
Stefan's love do me then? All that love would turn to pain. The more
I love, the more it damn well hurts." He turned his face away
sharply, his breath was ragged, voice hoarse. "You see, a part of me
already knows what you're telling me has some truth. But the voice of
experience knows what happens when you open your heart, when you rely
on others."

Cookie stared at him warily. She was treading on dangerous ground
here. "At least you would have known love," she said. "What's the
saying? One year of love is better than a lifetime alone?" What
happened next was something totally unexpected. She flinched back
from the Power that erupted from him. He screamed in anguish, and
hung his head.

"I've known love," he said bitterly, finally looking up again. "And
I know the pain it caused. If I had the choice, I'd do without that
love just to make the pain go away." He swallowed heavily before
continuing. "Would you like to see? Do you want to see what hurts so
much?" He stepped back a little. "You think it was Stefan that
changed me? Perhaps a little. But it happened before then."

"How?" Cookie asked. She wasn't sure she should ask. She wasn't sure
he should be going there himself.

"Rebecca," he said mournfully. And the tears spilled over as he
forced her out of his mind.

~*~

Stefan felt an intense amount of relief as Damon whispered 'Rebecca'
and roused himself from oblivion, curling up into a ball where he'd
collapsed on the floor. His breathing was eratic, and his face damp
from tears, but at least he was conscious. Cookie pulled herself up
into a sitting position, and he glared at her, furious.

"What the hell did you do to him?" he demanded.

"I...I had to know," Cookie said thickly.

"You had no right," Stefan snapped. He was close to breaking point.
The pair of them had been out cold for an hour. It had taken fifteen
minutes before everyone else was calm again, and Stefan had had a
hard time convincing everyone they were safe. He had to give them
credit. They were wary - rightly so. But they were also giving him
the benefit of the doubt. He'd used the remaining time that Damon was
unconscious to explain to them about vampires. They'd taken it well.
They even half trusted him now, especially after Jess had pointed out
the trust he was putting in them with this secret. He was grateful to
her for that.

"I'm sorry," Cookie said finally. She lifted her head to meet his
gaze.

"I only hope it was worth it," he snarled.

"I don't know." She shrugged sadly. "I know you can be trusted now.
I should have gone with my gut instinct. All this did was prove me
right. I'm so sorry." She looked downright miserable, and sick with
herself.

Stefan softened a little and looked down at his brother. "I'll
forgive you if he pulls out of this."

She nodded. "We'll leave you to it, then." She rose unsteadily to
her feet, Mike and Zia moving to help her. The group left silently,
and the door clicked shut behind them. Stefan began to shudder
uncontrollably. *My fault. I should never have insisted,* he thought
bitterly.

"Uh, I thought you might need someone to stay with you," a voice
said nervously. Stefan's head whipped up in surprise. He'd not been
aware that anyone had stayed behind. Jess stood there awkwardly, a
look of concern on her face.

He mustered a smile. "There's not much you can do. /I/ don't know
what to do. But thanks anyway."

She knelt down next to him. "That's not what I meant. I thought you
might want some company." She smiled.

He nodded, touched. "Thanks." He considered asking her to leave, but
his heart wouldn't let him. It was clinging onto the warmth she was
offering. The fact that she was offering this friendship despite
knowing what he was made it all the more special. "I'm going to get
Damon into his bed. I'll be out soon. You can make yourself a drink
or whatever while you wait, if you want." He picked his brother up
gently, and moved through into his room.

~*~

It was dark in Damon's room. Stefan sat on the desk chair which he'd
pulled closer to the bed. It was nearly three in the morning. Mike
had picked Jess up just before midnight. They'd spent the evening
watching TV and playing cards, Stefan keeping his senses fixed on
Damon for any change. She'd been pleasant company, even if she wasn't
entirely relaxed. But that hadn't hurt. It had taken guts to stay
with him, and even more so to stay with him alone. It showed trust,
and that was a great tonic to Stefan's heavy heart.

Damon stirred. "You been here long?" he muttered, visibly surprised
that Stefan was there.

"Since midnight," he replied. 

Damon fumbled for the alarm clock by the bed. "A few hours, then."

"I would have been in sooner, except Jess stayed to keep me company."

"That's unexpected."

Stefan nodded. "You want to talk about it?"

Damon shook his head. "Not at the moment," he replied. Stefan was
surprised. It was far more than the outright 'no' he's been
expecting. Damon continued. "What I actually need is to go out and
hunt. I feel so shitty that I'd even settle for rat blood right now."
He moved to get up, only to have Stefan push him back down.

"You're not going anywhere," he said firmly. Damon began to protest.
"If you need blood, I can spare a little," he said, offering his
wrist. Damon looked at him oddly. He didn't blame him. He was a
little surprised at this himself.

"You're sure?" Damon asked, hesitating before biting gently at
Stefan's nod. Stefan wasn't sure what Cookie had done, but whatever
it was had left Damon famished. He felt moved not to remove the
source of nourishment away from Damon, but to let him finish himself.
Finally, Damon pushed his wrist away, and curled back up under his
blanket. Stefan stayed silent. He could sense that barriers between
them were open, but he was unsure how to proceed, afraid that if he
spoke, he would say the wrong thing, and Damon would retreat behind
his cold mask once again. So silence was the best option. It paid off
after a while.

"Can I tell you something?" Damon asked. His voice was desolate, lost.

Stefan frowned, concerned. "I told you I was here if you needed to
talk," he replied carefully.

"I want to tell you about Rebecca," he said sadly. And Stefan
listened.

~*~

"I met Rebecca in the early 1980s in England. For some reason I
thought that it would be a good idea to wreak my own personal havoc
on a student population, so I enrolled myself into London University.
Rebecca had come to university from Suffolk with a group of friends.
I ran into her my first day there, a witness to one of her pranks.
She was fast like that, never wasted time waiting to do things. She
was wild, a nature unto herself. Her hair was a chestnut brown that
had a habit of tangling itself up - wild like she was. For that
reason she kept it short, to her chin. An attempt to look a little
more respectable, she said. It didn't work. She looked like a pixie,
acted like an imp. Her mouth was a little too big for her face, but
it didn't matter. It made her already pretty face radiant when she
smiled. It lit the room.

"It was her eyes I noticed first. I was trying to find my room, and
she ran into me, tiny feet bare, making an escape from the scene of
the 'crime'. She managed to squeak out an apology through her
laughter, and looked up at me, grin plastered over her face, eyes
wide with excitement. She had amazing eyes. A strange grey-blue, the
colour of storm clouds waiting to unleash the tempest. Her soul shone
through those eyes, and it captured mine. She ran off quickly, and I
headed towards the commotion.

"Someone had been hard at work during the night and early morning
moving shoes from bedrooms into the dining room. The university owned
house had enough rooms for twenty people, so the shoe feat wasn't
entirely impossible. Having only just arrived that morning, I had my
boots attached to my feet, a small fact that led to the finger being
pointed at me. It took a while to get over to them that it wasn't me,
that I'd only just moved out of my hotel room this morning, and that
there was no way I could have done it. The whole thing amused me more
than anything. I wouldn't have been so stupid to make my shoes the
only ones not missing if it /had/ been me, and so I went in search of
the person that I was sure was the real culprit. The barefooted
sprite Rebecca.

"I had intended to teach her a little 'lesson' for dropping me in
it, but when I finally caught up with her lounging on a blanket on
the front lawns, I lost heart. There was something about her. It
didn't matter what she did, you couldn't help forgiving her. She made
you laugh, made you forget your troubles. Everyone forgave her for
her pranks, and looking back on them, they always found them funny.
Including the shoe incident when she finally admitted to it. When I
told her what had happened, her eyes widened apologetically, and
after making me promise not to rat on her, she offered to by me a
drink for my troubles. I accepted, deciding that I might as well get
to know people, and she was as good as any. Besides which I was
already growing to like her.

"We stayed in a nearby pub all afternoon, and into the evening. We
talked mainly, about music, books, the courses we were doing. And as
the alcohol loosened her up, we talked more about personal things.
That was more her than me, I think she needed to talk to someone. I
happened to be there.

"She had no illusions about life; she'd lost her brother and sister
in a drowning accident a few years before, her mother had turned to
the bottle to deal with her pains, and her father had drawn into
himself, attempted to ignore the hurt. Rebecca had gone through the
pain, and come out of it. 'Live life to the fullest,' she said,
'Today might be your last day, why waste it with sadness and woe'.
She always lived by that. Never let a moment go to waste, never let a
chance for a prank go by.

"As it turned out we were on the same history course; Britain and
Europe, the Dark Ages to the Middle Ages. I'd chosen it because it
was history that was genuine history to me. Studying things I've
lived through is always a little tedious. She'd chosen it because she
had a passion for the subject. She wanted to be a field
archaeologist. She would have fitted in perfectly; a little weird
with plenty of passion.

"As the months wore on we did a lot together, became good friends. I
fell in a little with her group, messed around with them. I was
always the stranger though. I didn't want to get /too/ close. I
wasn't really bothered about friendship with them. Just with Rebecca.
We studied together, pulled pranks together, made lectures a riot,
went out at night together. We were best friends, the Trouble Twins.
I don't know what it was that kept us together like that, I guess our
souls were just compatible. Soul Mates, perhaps.

"I told her what I was towards the end of our first year. She didn't
believe me at first, and when she did, she wasn't afraid. Far from
it. She thought my abilities 'opened up some interesting avenues of
investigation'. That turned out to mean the pranks in the second year
became wilder. Her plans incorporated my abilities, and we ended up
baffling even the most intelligent students. They couldn't work out
how we'd done half the stuff we did. It wasn't humanly possible,
they'd said. Which it wasn't. They never worked out how all the
girls' bras ended up hung neatly and artistically by the straps from
a hundred foot horse-chestnut tree. That had involved me climbing to the
top of the tree with a back pack filled with underwear, balancing on
fragile limbs to drape the items on the end twigs. I spent half an
hour up there at four in the morning and I almost fell out at least
five times, which goes to show just /how/ inhumanly possible it was.
I drew the line at the clothing pegs clipping the straps to the
branches. By the time I'd finished I felt like pegging /her/ at the
top of that damned tree.

"She had a problem with relationships the whole time I knew her. I
lost count of the break ups she had with various guys, and the
resulting nights getting drunk in her room to get over it. I told her
she was better off leaving the personal parts out of the picture,
that one night stands were the best way to do it. Satisfaction with
no strings attached. She never took that advice, and she knew exactly
why I had the reputation of having the most romantic flings on
campus. If the girls wanted a night of fun, it was to me they came.
She pointed out to me that she hadn't got a weird diet to stick to
whenever I mentioned short flings were easiest. Easy meal ticket, I
told her. One night stands weren't for her, she said. She needed
someone to be intimate with in that way. She needed to be able to
share her feelings with her sexual partners. I couldn't give her
that, and we both knew it. It wouldn't be right, our friendship meant
too much to destroy it with a love affair that wouldn't last.

"We had an invite to a Christmas party during our third year, along
with a good number of our house. Olly, one of Rebecca's old friends
who'd come up with her to uni lived with his parents out of term
time, and they owned a huge house in a village in the middle of the
Suffolk countryside. They normally held a huge family party, but that
year they were spending christmas in Paris, and so the house was left
for us 'young' people to use for our own wild party. It was held a
few days before Christmas so those who wanted to spend the actual day
with their families could do.

"I travelled up there with Rebecca, her current boyfriend, Jas, and
three other friends from our history course. Ryan, one of the guys,
drove, while his girlfriend sat in the passenger seat. That left me,
Jas and Carl sat in the back. Rebecca took it upon herself to sprawl
across our laps, a blanket over her to hide under if the police
looked to closely. Ryan was paranoid about losing his license - he
wasn't the world's best driver, and had been pulled on numerous
occasions for something illegal about his car.

"The party was one of those one in a million smashes that linger in
your mind for years. Olly's parties were always something to talk
about back at uni, and on his own turf he'd surpassed even our
wildest expectations. Olly always said that a party was truly a
success when the police came banging on the door. Which they did at
three in the morning, declaring that they'd had several complaints
from the villagers that it was far to noisy. We were told to wind the
party down, and we did. Olly's place was big enough for everyone to
crash, and that was the original plan. Then Ryan told us that he had
to be back for a job interview at eleven that morning. He was our
only ride home, and so we had to go with him.

"We were all still out of it when we got up to leave at nine, but
Ryan was especially drunk. Jas had taken the keys from him and said
he'd drive himself, and we all thought that was best. Jas was pretty
sober, and more together than the rest of us, bar me, and I wasn't
about to offer to drive. I didn't want the responsibility of driving
five vulnerable and very mortal humans back to London. Rebecca sat in
the front this time, keeping Jas company.

"The roads were icy that morning, and driving was difficult. Jas
handled it well, avoiding the bad spots that could have been
potential accidents. What happened wasn't his fault. It wasn't really
anyone's fault, except perhaps nature's.

"We were involved in a pile up on the M25 heading into London. A
lorry driver had slammed his breaks on too quickly, and skidded. He
lost control of the vehicle in his panic. Seven cars in all were near
destroyed in the accident, ours included.

"Ryan's girlfriend had been in the position Rebecca had on the way
to the party, and she'd been flung against the front seats. She
escaped with a broken arm and mild concussion. Carl had broken his
leg somehow, and Ryan had come through with only bruises and a
nosebleed. I managed to get out of the car easily, not even suffering
a scratch. In the front, Jas was trapped, but, apart from a severe
case of shock, was unharmed. He didn't even question how I'd managed
to free him from the wreckage.

"Rebecca was a different story. There was no way I could free her.
She'd been impaled in the stomach by a broken shard of metal from one
of the other cars smashing through the windscreen. She lost
consciousness with me reaching across to her, holding her hand
tightly, telling her, /pleading/ with her to hang on.

"She woke up again once in the ambulance to the hospital. She told
me she loved me, and that I wasn't to let this get to me. That I
still had to go on living my life to the fullest. I promised her that
I would, but I still told her to hang on, told her that I didn't want
to live without her, that I couldn't go on without my soul mate. I
almost considered changing her there, making her into a vampire.
Almost. But I didn't. I loved her too much. If she'd wanted it, I
would have, but I knew she didn't. I knew that it wasn't for her, and
I couldn't do it. Even though she'd have forgiven me, I couldn't do
it. I knew she'd rather die and so I let her.

"Rebecca died a week later in Intensive Care. She hadn't woken up
since the ambulance. It was her parents' decision as the next of kin
to turn the machines off. I knew she'd gone, that the machines were
just keeping her body alive, I'd known after she faded again in the
ambulance.

"And so I lost all that mattered to me. I lost a part of my own
soul. I snapped after that, went mad, lost myself. I locked it all
away inside, and refused to let it out. I went part way back to being
my old self, the blood, the hunt, and even the killing. Hate is
always so much easier than love, so much less painful.

"But once it's touched you, there's no way of escaping that pain.
You have to live with it. You have to face it at some point. My
running from it stops here. It stops now."





The Crow and the Falcon. (Eight)

"That one next, I think," Bruce said, nodding his head towards a
freshman with over-done black make-up dressed in an over-sized black
sweater. The students of Redditch High were heading home after a
subdued day of schooling. "She looks like she's begging for a dance
with Death," he continued.

Lydia smiled coldly. "Let's follow her, shall we? Wait until she
arrives at a secluded spot then..." She giggled and mimed a discreet
stabbing motion with her fist.

"We'd better go now. She'll be out of sight before long. Then we'd
have to wait until tomorrow to find her again. The pair linked arms
and set off after the girl, keeping a safe distance.

~*~

Bernadette Garrett trudged home, trailing her book bag dejectedly
behind her, unaware of being followed. School had been bad today.
Particularly bad. She hated it on a good day, hated the teachers,
hated the pupils, hated the pointless monotony of the lessons. She
didn't excel at all in academic subjects, and her art and poetry was
overly dark and morbid. Purposfully so, most said. She knew they were
right. It was an attempt to give herself an image, draw attention to
herself, and perhaps to make people a little frightened of her.

Today had been worse than most days because of Tatum Kent.
Bernadette was wishing she hadn't died along with the rest of the
school, only her opinion differed greatly. Tatum had been a useless
airhead in her opinion, and the world was better off without her. The
only problem with her death was that the rest of the school, even the
town, were walking around mourning her passing, crying their eyes out
over someone they barely knew. Some of them out of guilt, probably.
They felt guilty for saying nasty things about her. Bernadette knew a
few of them, and their hypocrisy was sickening. Everything was always
about Tatum Kent, about what a beautiful, popular girl she was, about
how she was a wonderful student, cheerleader, what wonderful school
activities she planned. And now she was dead, it was /worse/.
Whatever corner you turned, people were talking about Tatum. It made
Bernadette boil with anger. She didn't think she could face school
the following day if it was going to be the same.

She turned off of the main road and up the dirt track that led to
the bridge across the small river. Her parents' place was barely half
a mile further. She never made it. Two pairs of strong hands grabbed
her from behind, forcing her to the ground. A large ball of cloth was
stuffed into her mouth and a sickly sweet fragrance wafted up her
nose. It smelled like decay. It smelled like death.

She struggled violently before a pressure weighted her shoulders
down. Someone was sitting on her legs, too. She looked up into the a
pair of grey eyes that burned with a psychotic light, made even more
terrifying by the demonic leer on the boy's face. The girl on her
legs looked equally as frightening, and she struggled even more, but
to no avail.

The girl caught Bernadette's gaze and held it. They began to hum,
and it vibrated through Bernadette's skull, building in pressure,
until finally her ears popped, and it felt like she was floating. It
reminded her of the time her mom had taken her to a meditation group
to fix her 'attitude', the same sense of peace and wholeness. Only
that time she hadn't be so very afraid.

The panic rose a notch higher as the girl produced a kitchen knife
from her bag and held it above her belly, only she no longer had
control over her body and was unable to struggle any more. She heard
herself whimper behind her gag as a disjointed thought flitted
through her mind. They'd killed Tatum. They were going to kill her,
too.

The girl rested the point of the blade on Bernadette's navel. Such a
normal, everyday object, but so dangerous, so /evil/. And suddenly it
was plunged inside of her. If Bernadette had been able to scream it
would have been heard for miles around. It wasn't so much pain,
surprisingly, but more the shock that she'd actually been stabbed.

As she thought it was over, that they were going to kill her, they
closed their eyes, their faces becoming blank. A tingling sensation
began to grow inside of her. It didn't feel entirely physical, more
like part of /herself/ was being manipulated.

The girls withdrew the knife from Bernadette slowly and carefully,
her hand steady. Bernadette was horrified to see a yellow mist flow
from the wound, following the tip of the blade. It rose above her,
floating over her, twisting around it's own tendrils. As the mist
left her, so did her strength. She began to lose her grip on
consciousness until eventually, and gratefully, she blacked out into
a very deep sleep.

~*~

Bruce and Lydia slowly opened their eyes and stared in hungry
anticipation at the yellow Lifeforce they had drawn from the girl's
body.

/Brace yourselves,/ the voice inside told them. /Be ready for this./
The yellow mist between them began to writhe faster. The tendrils
moved down, towards the body, seeking a place to live and give life.

"Now," Bruce whispered, Lydia wet her lips a little and handed the
knife carefully to her brother. He gripped the handle firmly, placing
the blade to the girl's throat, then cutting swiftly and deeply.

As the girl's heart ceased beating, the tendrils snapped back away
from the body and began reaching for the only other sources of life
nearby. The two steeled themselves as the first icy touches caressed
their cheeks. Icy, the voice had told them, because only freely given
Lifeforce was warm. The yellow mist parted in the middle, flowing
down Bruce and Lydia's bodies, making them want to shiver. It stopped
moving down when it reached the navel, and began flowing /in/
instead. Lydia bit back a scream as icy daggers forced their way inside.
And then it was over.

Bruce and Lydia got up shakily, collecting their belongings and
carefully making sure to remove all trace of their ever having been
there. They picked up the body between them, and moved to the bridge.

/A weak Lifeforce,/ the voice said, almost to itself, /But still, a
weak one is better than none at all./

They gave each other a satisfied look as they hauled the body over
the centre of the wooden railings, and watched it fall in the river
below. It stuck in debris for a few moments, then the current picked
it up and washed it downstream.

~*~

The sun had been down for an hour by the time everyone had assembled
in Jess and Mike's sitting room. Mike sat cross-legged on the couch
plucking the strings of his guitar and humming softly. A breeze blew
in gently through the open window.

"They definitely weren't in school today," Zia said. "Stefan wasn't
in chemistry, so I asked around. Neither of them have been in today."

"I tried calling their place at lunch. If anyone was in, they
weren't answering," Adam supplied, chewing his bottom lip.

"Maybe they've left town," Cookie suggested, dejected.

"And would you blame them if they had?" Adam glared at her. "After
what you pulled last night, I really wouldn't blame them if they
skipped the country."

"Okay, okay. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry for this? I'm
worried about them just as much as you are. Hell, I'm more worried
about Damon. I was in his head. I was in his /soul/, dammit. How do
you think I'll feel if something awful happens to him?" Tears rolled
down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. What's done is done," Jess said, pulling her
friend into a hug. "Besides, I don't think they've left town. Stefan
wouldn't. He said last night he wanted to help, and he wouldn't leave
before that. They're still here, probably holed up at their place for
a day or two."

"We're still here," A voice spoke softly. The group turned to the
window, startled. Stefan boosted himself in and landed in a crouch on
the floor. He pulled his leather jacket off and draped it over the
arm of the couch. Damon followed after. The pair were dressed
entirely in black. Any sign of the previous night's events had gone
from Damon's face. If anything, it was harder. He looked at Cookie,
his lip turning up a little at the corner.

"You owe me," he said simply. "And I collect on my debts."

"Ignore him," Stefan said as Cookie's eyes widened. "That's just his
way of saying he forgives you."

"Yes. But she still owes me for what she did."

"In what way?" Cookie asked, a little fearfully.

"We'll see," Damon replied, his mouth forming into a calculating
smirk. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Where've you been all day?" Jess asked, butting in. "We've been
worried."

"I'm touched," Damon replied, still smirking at Cookie. "We've been
talking all day."

"About time," Cookie muttered under her breath. If Damon heard it,
he ignored it. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

"So, you're okay?" Mike asked finally.

"I've been better" Damon replied dryly, taking his gaze from
Cookie. "But I've also been far worse. Thank you for asking, anyway."

"How about you guys? After last night..." Stefan trailed off and
shrugged.

"I think we're doing okay," Mike told them "It'll take getting used
to, but we're okay. Apart from Cookie's guilt trips, that is. Jess
doesn't seem bothered at all."

"Yeah. Thanks for last night." Stefan smiled at her.

"S'okay." She shrugged self consciously, and grinned a little.

Stefan looked at the floor a second, then addressed the group. "Last
night didn't /exactly/ go to plan. I had hoped to discuss Tatum
Kent's murder. Then things got out of hand, and we didn't get chance."

"So we discuss it now," Mike said, putting down his guitar. "If
anyone has any ideas, now would be a good time to reveal them."
Everyone stayed silent. "Fine. So how's about the guys with triple
figures in their age start talking?"

Damon looked at Stefan and shrugged. He turned to face the girls.
"Adam told you about our discussion in the library, right?" They
nodded. "Good. Anything you don't understand?"

"Other than why anyone in Redditch would /want/ to do this, we have
no questions."

"So far, so good." Damon nodded to himself. "Okay. Stefan and I
discussed this among other things earlier today. We're new here, we
don't know anyone except you, so we have no clue as to who could be
doing this."

"Apart from Lydia," Stefan muttered.

"But we agreed not."

"Yeah, yeah." Stefan waved his brother on.

Adam grinned wryly. "As much as I'd love it to be my creepy cousins so 
they could get slammed away for life, all logic tells me otherwise.
They don't have the guts to pull it off."

"That's what /I/ said," Zia said.

"Don't write them off altogether, though," Cookie said darkly.
"They've been /nice/ since last night. They're definitely up to
something."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Fine. Not having met them, I don't suppose
I'm in any position to comment. So, any other ideas?"

"Some guy kidnapped Tatum's kid brother a few years back," Jess
informed them. "They had a grudge against Mr Kent. Something to do
with a business take-over. I think the guy has a few enemies, so
maybe it's just some revenge killing. Or am I being overly hopeful?"

"Overly hopeful," Cookie replied sadly. "This is something big, and
it won't stop with Tatum. And it's no-one in town. Strangers, people
who don't belong."

"So that leaves myself, Damon, Bruce and Lydia who are new to town.
Anyone else?" Stefan asked.

"There's a family moved in on Maple Avenue," Mike supplied. "But
unless their second name is Bundy, I doubt it's them."

"Kids?" Adam asked.

"Two, and it wasn't them. One is seven, the other ten. They're in
Jamie and Aaron's classes in school."

"Anyone new in town then that has reason to be at school, then?"
Stefan amended.

"The janitor has a new guy working for him," Zia said. "I've seen
him when I stay late for dance. He's from out of town for sure."

"I've heard rumours about him. Ex-drug addict, stuff like that."
Adam frowned. "Although you shouldn't listen to rumours."

"So we have a new janitor," Damon summed up. "A ten year old and a
seven year old. Wonderful."

"And Bruce and Lydia," Stefan muttered.

"Shut up about Bruce and Lydia."

"They showed up just before Tatum was killed," Jess pointed out.

"Oh, not you, too." Damon shook his head despairingly. "I'm getting
tired of this. The next person to mention those two gets thrown out
of the window. And that is /not/ an idle threat," he snapped.

"You should meet them," Adam said.

"I'd rather not. From what I've heard, I'm better off without that
little joy of life."

"Just out of interest, what would the janitor be needing Lifeforce
for?" Zia asked.

"Maybe he was a part of some religious cult or other?" Mike suggested.

Damon cradled his head in his hands. "We're getting nowhere with this."

"What's your suggestion, then?" Mike asked.

"It's a big town," Damon said, looking up. "The truth is, you're not
going to know /everyone/ who moves in and out. It doesn't even need
to be someone who lives here. It could be someone staying for a few
days."

"Bru..." Cookie shut her mouth quickly as Damon shot her an evil look.

"How about we split up and look then?" Jess suggested.

"Best idea so far," Damon agreed with a sigh.

"Okay then. Tomorrow we look round school for new faces, then look
round town after school for suspicious looking people." Jess decided.

"Fine. Two groups." Stefan said. "Me and the twins, Damon and the
rest."

"Uh uh." Jess shook her head. "Me, you and Adam, Damon and the rest."

"Why?" Stefan frowned.

"It's better if Mike and I are split. Twin thing." She explained.
"If there's any trouble, we'll know about it whatever. There might be
a hundred and one reasons why you and Damon can't get in touch, but
there's no way to stop Mike or myself knowing about the other. So
we'll go on opposite teams."

"Fair enough." Damon shrugged. He walked to the window and boosted
himself out. "We'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You don't have to leave, you know." Jess said, a little hurt.

"I know," Stefan told her, picking up his jacket. "It's not that I
don't want to stay. Damon's starting to get pissed off, and you
/don't/ want to see him when he blows."

"No way," Cookie agreed with him.

"So don't take personally, okay," he told Jess, smiling.

"Alright. 'Night. See you at school, then," she replied. Stefan
nodded, and followed Damon out of the window.





The Crow and the Falcon. (Nine)

*Why am I even here?* Damon asked himself. He slouched against his
locker, sulking. *I'd be far more useful searching /out/ of school.
But, no, little brother insists on things being as normal as
possible. We've been here a week and a half out of five hundred
years, so /this/ is what I'd call /ab/normal.* He sighed, and hummed
quietly along to the music blasting into his ears from the headphones.

He jumped, startled out of his thoughts as a hand waved in front of
his face. Zia jumped back herself, startled at his reaction.

"Boy, you're uptight," she told him.

"Uh, sorry. Miles away," he replied

"What're you listening to?"

Damon looked blank, then shook his head dazedly when she pointed to
his Walkman. "Oh. All About Eve." He replied. She looked confused, so
he elaborated a little. "A chirpy Goth band from the eighties."

"You're into that weird Goth shit?"

"A good friend introduced them to me," he said testily, hitting stop 
on the stereo clipped to his belt. A few teachers had /tried/ to comment, 
but had thought the better of it when they saw the look he gave them.

"Fine, fine." She raised her hands in apology. "First lesson has been 
cancelled. Principal Morgan wants to see the whole school, so she called an
assembly. Probably something to do with Tatum."

"They left that a bit late," Damon frowned.

"Huh?"

"You'd have thought she'd do it Tuesday, or yesterday at the latest."

"Maybe." Zia shrugged.

"I smell more trouble. Looks like Cookie might be right." A smile
crept across his face. He liked a challenge. Zia stopped and looked
at him strangely before shaking her head and following him again.

~*~

It hadn't really occurred to Stefan just how big Redditch High was
until the entire student population was gathered in the auditorium.
Fells Church had been a relatively small town; everyone pretty much
knew everyone else. It wouldn't have surprised Stefan if there were a
good amount of students here who didn't even know the names of a good
deal of the others. *Well, you wanted anonymity,* he told himself. He
spotted a familiar blue head towards the back, and wove his way
through students to get to it.

"What's going on?" he asked Cookie. He glared at the boy sitting
next to her, moving into the seat he quickly vacated.

"You're picking up bad habits from us," she grinned.

"Nope. Some inborn snobbery from being an aristocrat," he replied.
"So what's this about?" he asked again.

Cookie shrugged. "Principal Morgan called an emergency assembly."

"/Emergency/ assembly? That doesn't sound good."

"No. It doesn't."

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"You know what? I do too," Cookie muttered.

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Stefan sighed and chewed his
bottom lip thoughtfully, his attention turning to the front of the
hall.

Principal Morgan was standing in front of a microphone that had been
set up in the middle of the stage, a sombre expression on her face.
She coughed to clear her throat before speaking.

"I wish I could say good morning to you all, but I'm afraid there is
nothing good about it. As you are all aware, we suffered a tragic
loss on Monday with the death of Tatum Kent. It has hit us hard, some
more than others, and she will be sorely missed. To her friends, and
anyone else who feels they need help through this, we have councillors 
willing to listen to you.

"It pains me greatly to say what I have to say next, especially
considering that we are still in shock from Monday..."

"I feel sick," Cookie mumbled quietly, sinking down low in her seat,
eyes shut tight. "I don't want to hear this." Stefan gave her a
sympathetic glance, and hesitantly took her hand to comfort her. She
gripped his hand tightly. The principal was still speaking.

"Early this morning Bernadette Garrett's body was discovered in the
river, a few miles from her home." She paused as gasps and murmurs of
shock filled the large room.

"Oh, Lord and Lady," Cookie moaned, pressure increasing on Stefan's
hand. "Why did you give me this damnable 'gift'? Why do I have to
know these things? Why did I have to be right? /Why/?" She whispered.
It was only his sensitive hearing that let him catch the last of what
she said. His heart went out to her. Relative silence fell over the
room again as Principal Morgan started to speak again. Stefan could
feel how uncomfortable she was having to do this. *No one should have
to do this,* Stefan thought bitterly.

"Early signs indicate that it was the same person who killed Tatum
Kent, and as of today, the police are searching for a possible serial
killer. From the wounds dealt, the police are looking into possible
ritual or cult killings. If you know anything, and I do mean
/anything/ you /must/ tell the police. This is a deadly serious
situation, and it is important that we try to prevent losing any more
of you.

"On that note, the police are enforcing safety restrictions on all
young people.

"One; A nine pm curfew is being placed on the town. Not one of you
is allowed out after then, unless in the company of your parents.

"Two; No one is to be allowed out on their own, and preferably not
even in pairs. Police are not ruling out that the killer has an
accomplice. If you /must/ leave your house, make sure you are in a
group of people you know and trust. This applies to during the day
as well as night.

"Three; School /will/ be kept open. We have no idea how long this
will last, and your education cannot suffer. Again, I must stress the
point of travelling in groups, and I would prefer it if no one walked
to and from school until this matter is resolved. If you don't have
your own car, get your parents to drive you to school, your friends'
parents, your older brothers or sisters. Take the school bus, get a
taxi. But /do not/ go alone.

"Please remember, these rules are not here to punish you. They are
being enforced to try and save lives. Follow them for your own good.

"One last important thing. So far, the deaths have been girls. I
want all of you girls to be extra careful for that reason. Stick with
the boys. I know that this is the nineties, and I'm fully aware that
you can take care of yourselves in most cases. But the fact remains
that the boys are physically stronger, and are able to take care of
you if needs be.

"Boys, keep an eye out for yourselves, and for the girls. Just
remember, don't go looking for trouble. We don't need casualties from
fools trying to be heroes.

"You'll all be staying in school for the rest of today, but this
mornings lessons are being cancelled for you to try and absorb the
shock and information. Remember, your teachers and councillors are on
hand if you need to talk, ask questions, or offer any information.
Please, stay alive and well." As she left the stage Principal Morgan
was shaking visibly, though Stefan doubted anyone else had noticed. The
murmuring started up again as students stayed where they were, unsure
what to do. Stefan picked up snatches of conversation.

"...We're not safe. Any one of us could be next..."

"...There's a freaking lunatic on the loose, and instead of going
out looking for him, they're holding /us/ prisoners. How is that
fair?..."

"...Like, man, it's the aliens. It's gotta be abductions. They're
experimenting on us like lab rats." Stefan shot the greasy haired boy
an odd look. He held up his hands defensively. "Hey, man. You heard
Morgan, she said they might be cult killings. Some people might call
aliens a cult thing."

"Why don't you just keep idiotic opinions like that to yourself," 
Stefan snapped. "Now isn't the time or the place."

"Leave it, Stefan," Cookie said wearily. "He's just shocked. You're
in my Biology class next, right?"

Stefan nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. I'll have company bunking then," Cookie said, making to leave
the hall.

"Where are we going?" Stefan frowned.

"Jess and Zia's French class. That's the most comfortable room out
of our first period lessons. We need to be together, and that's
probably where the others will go."

"Okay, sounds reasonable."

"Yeah." Cookie grimaced and rubbed at her temples. After a moment
her eyes widened in shock. "Adam." She whispered.

"Adam what?"

"Adam. Is he here? /Was/ he here?" She started looking around
frantically. "Oh shit, what if he bunked and didn't hear this stuff?
What if he's alone?" She was on the verge of hysterics.

Stefan grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and shook her gently.
"Easy, easy. I'll go look for him, okay? What lesson does he have?"

"Okay," Cookie said nodding her head slowly. "He has Math first."
Stefan smiled at her reassuringly, and started stretching out with
his mind, searching out for Adam. He frowned when he didn't sense
him, and started for the main auditorium doors. "Don't go out alone!"
Cookie called after him, concern on her face.

He stopped and grinned back at her. ((Don't worry. I can take care
of myself,)) he told her mentally. She nodded, and returned a weak
grin. *Adam, where the hell are you?* he thought worriedly.

~*~

Adam wasn't in his Math class. No one had seen him, and the teacher
became alarmed that he was missing. Stefan had lied, /lied/ he kept
telling himself. He never lied outright. He'd told the teacher that
he'd seen him in school this morning, that he was looking for him to
borrow a book. The teacher had settled down, satisfied. Now Stefan
was getting frustrated, and a little worried. He didn't /think/ that
anyone would try and attack the boy; he was tall, and even if he
wasn't overly muscular, he was well built and obviously able to hold
his own in a fight. What was worrying Stefan was that he wasn't sure
what they were up against exactly. If it /was/ supernatural or
occult, then Adam could be putting himself in a great deal of danger.

The vampire stopped in the middle of the hallway, slamming his arm
against the lockers in annoyance. This was getting him nowhere. *If
he's bunking, he's not going to be on school grounds, is he.* He
chided himself, leaning against the wall to think. *Or is he?* He
mused as his gaze fell on the door opposite. The door to the girls'
toilets. *Doesn't he have some cubicle he hides in to fiddle with
that computer of his? Where?* Stefan boosted himself off the wall and
into a run, slamming into every door that displayed the guys' sign.
Until he found the cubicle with the tattered 'Out of Order' notice
taped to the outside. He grinned. Someone was in there alright. It
/felt/ like Adam, but he hadn't known him long enough to be entirely
sure. Slipping into the cubicle next door, he boosted himself up off
the toilet seat rim to find out for sure. *I'd better be right, or
this is gonna be /really/ embarrassing.*

He breathed a sigh of relief as he recognised the figure sat on the
toilet seat, head resting on arms, was his errant friend. Then the
anger hit him. "What the hell do you think you're doing in here?"

Adam's head snapped up. "Huh?"

"You've freaked your sister out, you've had /me/ worried, you've had
you're teacher worried. What's worse is I actually /lied/ to cover
your ass. Did you even bother to come hear what Principal Morgan had
to say?"

"Yeah." Adam shrugged. "And?"

"And? Did you actually listen? Did you take any of it in? Don't
bother answering, it looks all too much like you didn't," Stefan
ranted. "'Rule' number two. No one is to go anyplace on their own.
That was /no one/. That /includes/ you."

"Jeez. Get off my case, would you. I'm in /school/."

"So was Tatum. And she ended up on a slab in the morgue," Stefan
growled. Adam actually flinched at that.

"I can take care of myself."

"/Not/ in this. There's something nasty at work here. Haven't you
learned anything these past couple of days? Didn't Tuesday night tell
you /anything/? There are things out there, dark things, things
parents tell their kids to make them behave. But they're /real/, the
monsters in the dark exist."

Adam arched a brow. "I live with witches. I /know/ that there's
stuff out there."

Stefan shook his head, irritated. He made a snap decision, and
boosted himself into the cubicle, fangs bared. He grabbed the
startled boy by his shirt collar and rammed him against the wall, not
hard enough to hurt, but forceful enough to convey his strength.

"Look at me, Adam Tate. /Look/," he snarled. "/I'm/ one of those
things, I'm one of those dark creatures, I'm some people's worst
nightmare. /We're/ out there, and we're /dangerous/."

"Let /go/." Adam was struggling to release himself, bristling with
anger, and a little fear. "Freaking well get /off/ me."

Stefan tightened his grip a little, getting the point across that
Adam was helpless, that the boy could do nothing. "I could kill you
easily," he warned. "I could take you down, and you wouldn't even
know about it if I so chose. I could drain you right here, right now.
But I won't, because I care, because I don't like taking life.
Whoever it is out there, /whatever/ it is, doesn't share the same
beliefs that I do. It will take you down if it gets you alone, it
will kill you, and it will /enjoy/ it. It will steal your Lifeforce,
and it will do /bad/ things with it. Think on that. And then think
long and hard about just /who/ you'll be hurting if you go and get
yourself killed through your stupidity. Your mom, your sister, your
friends. Me." Stefan released his grip on Adam's shirt and stared
down at the floor. "It'll hurt if something happens to you, and
what's more, I'll feel /responsible/ because it'd be as if I'd failed
you because I hadn't protected you."

"I didn't ask for you to protect me," Adam muttered, but the anger
had left his voice.

"No. But please excuse me if I can't shake of some old fifteenth
century values." Stefan sighed, moving as far back from the boy as he
could in the small space, to give him a little room. "Please, just
stick with us. If you can't defend yourself against /me/, what are
you going to do if something worse catches you alone?"

"Okay, okay. Quit lecturing me. I /get/ it. You don't have to hammer
it home any more," he said miserably.

"Good," Stefan replied wearily. He unlocked the cubicle door and
slipped out. "Coming?" Adam followed him out a moment later.

"Let me guess. Zia's French class," Adam said as they left the
bathroom.

"Bingo," Stefan said. He paused in the hall. "Wherever it is."

"This way." Adam sighed, jerking his head behind them. "Oh, /damn/..."

Lydia. Stefan assumed the blond with her was Bruce. He eyed them up
and down warily.

"Such a shame about your friends," Lydia pouted, her voice oozing
with mock sincerity. "And to think we moved here to get /away/ from
angst. I'm beginning to think we should go home. It might be safer."

"I wish you would," Adam snapped, dragging Stefan away from them.
Lydia's laughter followed them.

"But it's so much more /entertaining/ here," Bruce called after
them. "Why would we want to leave when we can stay and annoy /you/?"
He joined in with Lydia's laughter.

The hackles on Stefan's neck rose and he shuddered. "That was /not/
good," he said when they were out of earshot. "Lydia made me uneasy.
The pair of them together made me want to bolt. Or kill them."

"That might not be such a bad idea," Adam growled. "Killing them, I
mean. If you did, I wouldn't be sorry to seem them go."

Stefan glanced back over his shoulder. "I'd consider it, but they'd
probably taste /really/ bad."

"Vampire humour. Wonderful." Adam rolled his eyes. "It might even be
funny, if I were a member of your little 'society'."

"Oh, you don't even want to be thinking about that," Stefan said
quietly. Adam shrugged, silence between them the rest of the way to
the French room.






The Crow and the Falcon. (Ten)

The search was nearing hopeless. Damon, Mike, Cookie and Zia had
spent the past two days after school scouring the town for anyone
suspicious.

They weren't the only people searching; the police, for one, and
Jackson Kent, Tatum's father, was another. He'd hired private
investigators, although private was far from what they were being.
Damon had feared they could prove a problem for Stefan and himself,
but if their current actions were anything to go by, the vampires had
nothing to worry about. They weren't being thorough /or/ discreet.

Students from Redditch High were on the prowl, too. Suspicious of
anyone who displayed characteristics out of the norm, accusing anyone
who was outright odd. The police had been forced to break up several
fights that had been the result of false accusations.

Out of all the people searching for the killer, only Damon's group
of friends were on the lookout for anything supernatural. The police
might have been searching for an occult link, but they weren't
looking for anything /real/, didn't realise how serious the reality
could be. The small group of friends were all too aware, and that
spurred them on. But they were becoming disillusioned.

Friday afternoon, and searching wasn't getting /anyone/ anywhere.
The police had found where Bernadette had been killed, but nothing
else. All anyone could do was wait for the killer's next move, and
hope whoever it was slipped up.

That annoyed Damon. He hated waiting for anyone he didn't choose to.
He hated being subject to another's actions, hated the lack of
control he had over the situation. His temper was starting to wear
thin. Cookie and Mike had long ago resorted to bickering with one
another, and the normally calm and sensible Zia was visibly wound up,
just as annoyed with the other two as Damon was.

"Stop it!" Zia shrieked at them after what seemed to be the
millionth snide remark aimed at each other. She'd actually stamped
her foot in frustration. "Just shut up!" Damon winced and his hand
flew up to cover the ear nearest to Zia. She'd hit on an irritating
pitch.

"Hey, /he/ started it," Cookie snapped, jabbing a finger towards Mike.

"You just can't take a joke," Mike defended himself.

"That was /not/ a joke, that was a spiteful dig at me."

"Yeah, well it's true. Your stupid 'gift' kicks in giving us all
this stuff when we don't need it, but just when it would be /really/
handy, you can't do a thing."

"Dammit, I /told/ you that I don't know what I'm looking for.
There'd be no point doing it because it won't tell us anything we
don't already know. I'd have to be specific." 

Mike slumped his shoulders, finally defeated.

"What about that pendulum thing. Get it scrying for the killer,"
Damon suggested.

"/It/ won't know who it is. It's /me/ channelling the power to the
pendulum. I can't find something I have no idea about," Cookie
snapped at him. He clenched his jaw to bite back a retort.

"Ouija board? Talk to Tatum or Bernadette?"

"Michael Webber, you of all people should know better than to
suggest that in front of me," Cookie chastised.

"Under normal circumstances, yeah. But this is different."

"No way am I having anything to do with Ouija boards. They are Bad
News."

"So we sit here doing nothing, then?"

"We're not doing /nothing/," Zia interjected. "We're doing the best
we can."

Damon had had enough. "/You/ might be doing the best you can, but
/I'm/ not."

"What can you do in this instance that we can't?" Cookie pointed out.

"I can get into far more places by myself than I can with you
around. I can spy on people right under their noses, and I can do
things where I don't have to worry about your precious mortal necks
being broken," he snapped. "Probably by me. I've had enough of this,
and you two," he glared at Cookie and Mike, "Are driving me to
distraction. I'm running out of patience. I think it's time I went my
own way for a while. You three can keep searching if you like.
Although I wouldn't bother if I were you. You won't do any better
than we've already done."

"Oh, so where will /you/ be?" Mike glared.

"Searching the town, far more thoroughly than a human could."

"Moving faster? You'll probably miss more."

"Not from where I'll be searching," Damon replied, grinning ferally.

"And that would be?"

"I'm going to get a birds eye view of the situation," he said smugly
as his form shimmered and blurred before the startled teenagers. The
crow beat it's wings and soared off into the sky, feeling satisfied
as the three of them stared up beneath him, mouths open wide with
shock.

~*~

Stefan's team hadn't found anything, either. They'd spent hours
trailing around looking for /anything/, and were feeling
disheartened. Adam and Jess were now pacing the sidewalk impatiently
as Stefan sat on the concrete emptying a pebble from his boot.

Stefan heard footsteps, and looked up from tying his boot lace to
see Cookie, Mike and Zia approaching them, eyes a little wide.
*What's wrong with them?* he wondered.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jess asked, confused. "And where's
Damon?"

"We weren't having much luck," Zia told them dumbly.

"And Damon went off by himself," Mike supplied. Stefan pursed his
lips. Mike noticed. "To search," he defended the missing vampire.

"So why are you acting so weird?" Adam's brow creased in confusion.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"He went to get a 'birds eye view', he said."

"He didn't?" Stefan asked, groaning.

"Didn't what?" Jess frowned.

"He turned into this crow, right in front of our eyes." Cookie and
Zia nodded to confirm what Mike was saying. "Man, I never thought
anything could do that."

"I'll kill him," Stefan growled. "Did anyone else see?"

Cookie looked at him dryly. "He might be irresponsible, but he's not
/that/ stupid. He has lasted five centuries after all."

"Sometimes I wonder how," Stefan muttered.

"You know how," Cookie responded under her breath.

Stefan shot her a quizzical look. "Yeah, I guess I do." He shook his
head and changed the subject. "So I suggest we team up and search
together."

Zia shrugged. "We could. But Damon's probably had a good idea. Maybe
we... humans should search together, and you go and do what Damon's
doing too."

Stefan shifted uncomfortably. *Why am I uncomfortable?* he wondered,
puzzled. "I can't," he admitted after a moment.

"What?" Zia blinked. "But Damon can, and you're the same age..."

"My Powers aren't normally strong enough. His are," Stefan muttered.

"Why's that."

"Because I don't drink human blood. We can live off animal blood,
but it's human blood that has Power," he said wretchedly, staring at
the ground and feeling a little embarrassed. *Since when have /you/
been bothered about Power?* he asked himself.

"And Damon drinks..." Adam trailed off, absently massaging his neck
and looking uncomfortable.

"Yeah." Stefan nodded, finishing the sentence. "He drinks human
blood."

They were all silent, unsure what to say.

"So why don't you?" Jess asked, staring at him questioningly.

"He won't use humans," Cookie put in. Stefan's head flew up to meet
Cookie's eyes. "Damon 'told' me," she explained.

Stefan shrugged. "That's the reason. I won't use humans. I won't
treat them...you as cattle."

"So, call me dumb, but if vampires are supposed to drink human blood
to get Power, why did you become one?" Jess asked.

"Love," Stefan said simply, and sighed. "And an immensely stupid fight 
with Damon. I might tell you one day. Just not now." He shot a warning 
glance at Cookie. He had a feeling she knew about that. Damon hadn't 
told him exactly what Cookie had been doing in his head, but he had an 
idea now. He started moving down the street. "Come on. We might as well
keep on searching."

Jess slipped next to him. "So, /can/ you change your shape?" she
asked.

He stared at her a moment. "I could. I could probably do it right
now, but the amount of Power it would take would leave me pretty weak
and immensely hungry," he told her. "So it's better that I don't do
it unless I absolutely have to."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to drink human blood?"

"Probably," he replied. "But I won't use humans as a food source."

"What if they /wanted/ to give it you?" Jess pointed out. Stefan
opened his mouth to say no, but then shut it again, frowning. Bonnie,
Matt and Meredith had offered it once, offered him blood. He'd
refused, said he wouldn't fight evil with evil. But would he have
been? He was what he was, and someone offering it would be offering
because they cared, out of friendship, perhaps out of love. *How can
something offered with friendship be evil?* he puzzled. Then he
grimaced. *I've been around Damon too long. I can't believe I'm even
thinking about this. I will /not/ touch human blood,* he told himself
fiercely. But deep inside, doubt began gnawing at his stomach.
*Nothing given in love can be evil. Love /conquers/ evil,* it
whispered to him. He slammed down on it and refused to listen. He
couldn't listen, not at the moment.

~*~

As much as Damon hated admitting it to himself, the birds eye
perspective on things was beginning to look like a waste of time.
He'd been circling around the town for more than an hour, and even
passed over Stefan and the others twice. The second time he'd felt a
twinge of annoyance when they'd slumped their way into Debbie's
Diner. *Slackers,* he thought, heading in the direction of the woods.
They'd reminded him he was hungry, and the hot burning sensation in
his veins pushed itself to the forefront of his mind, telling him to
feed.

What he /wanted/ was to find a nice young girl, seduce her a little,
then take his fill in a secluded area. What he had to make do with
was far from his wish. *Rabbit.* He scowled inwardly. *Fox. Chicken.
What an appetising menu that is,* he thought sarcastically, and
tried not to dwell on it. He had no choice. To drink human blood now
was too dangerous. The chances of finding anyone alone at the moment
were as near to impossible as made any difference, and even if he
did, the uproar it would cause if the blood donor remembered what
happened was bound to mean the end for Stefan and himself. Killing
was out of the option. It would only risk implicating himself in the
entirely stupid murder situation. *Better sticking to animal blood,*
he thought resignedly. He hadn't survived five hundred years not
knowing when and where it was safe to feed, and the town of Redditch
was neither the time nor the place at the moment.

The leafy canopy of Redditch's woodland area was beginning to turn
golden with the first signs of Fall. Damon circled above for a few
moments, then glided down into the thick of the woods, landing on the
branch of large beech tree. His senses picked up out the mind of a
fox, and he launched himself off the branch, preparing to change back
to his human form and pursue the animal. Then he heard a sound a
little into the trees from his left. Human sounds, sounds of pain.
Then the scream. It was a scream of raw terror that grabbed at Damon,
and the Power that followed it caused him to change direction in mid
flight, heading urgently towards the sound. Then the scream stopped
abruptly.

Damon landed cautiously on a branch outside a small clearing. Power
still thrummed throughout the place, and the scent of fresh blood
washed over him. He pushed back the burning of his veins, and
concentrated on the scene before him. A male and female, both blonde,
both looking about Jess and Cookie's age. Eighteen, maybe. The boy
that lay on the ground between them was quite obviously dead, and
quite obviously the third victim if his wounds were anything to judge
by. Damon's only thought for the boy was his foolishness for getting
into this situation. His attention turned to the killers as they
began arguing.

"Oh, wonderful choice, brother dearest," the girl spat. "I /said/
we should have kept with the girls."

"How was /I/ to know he'd be a problem? I just don't understand why
he screamed. The others didn't."

"You dumb idiot, haven't you worked it out?" She sighed in
exasperation as the boy stared at her blankly. "Men are physically
stronger. It was easy for the two of us to subdue the girls, but when
it came to this guy, we expended more energy than the last two times.
We were tired. We weren't /concentrating/ properly."

The boy nodded in understanding. "So he wasn't entirely under our power." 

"Exactly."

"We were lucky he came out here alone, then." The boy's voice shook
a little. "If he'd screamed like that any closer to the town, people
would know about it. We're safe."

"This time," the girl snapped. *Don't bet on it, sweetheart,* Damon
thought savagely. *I know who you are now.*

"We stick to the girls from now on, then." The boy sighed. They were
silent for a few seconds, and a brief hum of Power surged from them.
Damon shielded himself, wary of the source of the Power. *What the
hell was /that/?* he wondered, becoming even more baffled when the
boy spoke next.

"I notice you don't participate in choosing victims," he snapped.
"If we'd have known this to start with, we wouldn't have had a
problem." The silence lasted longer this time as the pair began to
pick up their belongings, removing all trace that they were ever there.

Part of Damon was tempted to take them out then and there, but he
resisted it. They'd end up being considered two more victims of the
killer, and the town would never rest easy, always wondering if and
when the killer would strike next. That aside, he was unsure about the
Power he'd felt. It probably wouldn't be much of a threat, but a
nagging in his mind told him it wasn't a good idea to face it if he
didn't have to, and Damon trusted his instincts more than anything
else.

"That crow is giving me the creeps," the girl said suddenly. Damon
blinked in surprise. He hadn't realised he'd been seen. *Time to
leave,* he told himself, and spread his wings to take off.

"It won't be for much longer," the boy said viciously from behind
him. There was only a small moment of silence, and then a rock 
impacted with Damon in mid flight.

It had slammed full force into his wing, and he plummeted to the
ground a little way back into the trees. He changed quickly, rolling
to his feet as he landed, cradling his arm gently with his body,
protecting it from the fall. He cursed vehemently, and ran as far and
as fast as possible from the scene. He didn't want to face them, not
then. He stopped a few minutes later to examine his arm, and swore
again. Broken. It made him angry. He rarely got hurt, and to get
injured as badly as this from a stupid stone made him furious. A
stone thrown by a stupid human. That made it worse. *Stupid,* he
thought. *You should have gotten out of there sooner. No normal crow
would have stayed there for that long.* He growled at himself, and
started the walk back to town, concentrating on healing his arm as he
went.

~*~

He trudged into the diner half an hour later, arm healed, and a sour
expression on his face. He was even hungrier now, and the odour of
the humans in the place wasn't helping. Spying Stefan in a corner
booth, he walked over and slid into the space Zia made the group
shuffled round to make room.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked.

"I'm tired, I'm hungry, and some bastard just broke my arm," he
growled. "Not that kind of hungry," he sighed when Zia pushed her
burger in front of him.

"You broke your arm?" Jess asked surprised. "How? It looks pretty
healthy to me."

"I healed it. It's still very sore," Damon replied shortly. "And I
had a rock thrown at my wing. The guy's aim was too good."

"Is the guy still alive?" Stefan asked, arching a brow.

Damon glared at him. "Yes. Unfortunately. Although you might wish I
/had/ killed him."

"Oh? Care to enlighten us?"

"He's the killer." Damon reached over for a fry. "Or one of them,
anyway."

A chorus of shocked voices followed. "What?!"

"How do you know?"

"You've found the killer?"

"Who?"

"We gotta take this to the police."

"Keep your damned voices down," Damon hissed. "We can't take it to
the police. It's a little more complicated than that."

"How?" Cookie demanded.

"How? For one, how do I explain the fact I was out in the woods alone? 
It won't look good. 'Excuse me Mr Police-Officer, but I saw two people I 
don't know killing some poor kid in the woods. What was I doing there? 
Oh, well, I was out hunting. You see, I'm a blood sucking vampire. Oh yes, 
that's a good reason for slitting someone's throat, to hide the bite marks. 
No, I'm not crazy. No, it wasn't me that killed any of those people. Honest.' 
You see, as far as the police are concerned, I could be making this all up 
to cover my own ass. I have no reason to have been out in the woods by myself 
that isn't in the slightest bit suspicious. So, I'm not going to the police,
because I don't want to be implicated. But that's not the only
reason," he said, inspecting what drinks everyone had. He settled for
Jess's orange juice, then raised an eyebrow at her plate. "Salad?"

"I'm on a special diet," she muttered. "So what other reasons are there?"

"Power," he told them.

"Yeah, well we assumed that anyway," Adam said. "They want Power.
That's why they're killing people."

"Yes, but there's an unusual source of Power /with/ them. It could
be dangerous, and the police aren't going to take any notice of that
danger. Letting the police at them would be like putting a grenade in
the hands of a child. They'll pull the damn pin."

"Then what?"

"Who knows. Whatever it is, it won't be good."

"How do you know it isn't them?" Cookie asked.

Damon sighed. "I just do. It wasn't exactly there when I first came
across them. Then after they'd killed ..."

"Oh shit," Zia moaned as the facts hit her. "That's another kid
dead. Who?"

"How should I know?" Damon scowled at the interruption. "May I
continue? Good. As I was saying, they had an argument after they'd
killed the guy. It was just them. Then there was a surge of Power,
and the boy started talking to someone who wasn't there. So, either
he's schizophrenic, or he was talking to someone, or /something/,
that wasn't there."

"Oh," Cookie said mutely. "So what do we do?"

"Go somewhere more private," Damon suggested. "This isn't exactly
the safest of places to talk. And the last thing we need is someone
picking up on what these guys look like. The town will turn into a
lynch mob after anyone who even vaguely looks like those two. Now, is
there anywhere we can go without parents in the way? I'd suggest our
place, except the neighbours are having a party this evening, so it
won't be quiet."

"We can go to my place." Zia offered. "My parents took my grandmother 
out for the afternoon. They're having a meal out, so they won't be 
back till later this evening."

"Perfect." Damon smiled grimly, and stood up.

"Hey, don't we get to finish our meals first?" Mike protested.

"Fine. Finish your food. Just wait here for me," Damon sighed
impatiently.

"Where are you going?"

"If I don't feed soon, I'll end up ripping the throat out of the
next healthy person who passes. After Cookie's stunt on Tuesday I've
not been a hundred percent healthy, and healing my arm has drained my
resources. So I'm off to hunt," he told them and headed for the door.

((And don't bother worrying about the young ladies of Redditch,)) he
told his brother. ((I'll stick to the woodland creatures. Until this
whole fiasco is over, at any rate.))





The Crow and the Falcon. (Eleven)

Zia lived in a small apartment building with her parents and her
grandmother. It was like any other apartment, except for the sitting
room with it's large wooden floor space and high ceiling. Two couches
lined one corner of the room with a coffee table between them. The
television and stereo system sat next to one of the couches, the
speakers placed at strategic points around the room to produce
maximum effect. A giant painting of a heather-covered hill scene
covered one of the walls not taken up with the couches, preventing
the room from looking too bare. Evening sunlight streaked in through
the three high windows on the other bare wall, the sills low and
strewn with cushions to make more seating space. Damon's opinion had
been that the place would make one hell of a venue for a party. It's
main purpose, Zia had informed them, was for her dancing. Her father
used to dance professionally, and that was the reason her parents had
bought the apartment originally. When her father had retired from
professional dancing, they'd considered moving, but their daughter
had shown such a passion for dance that they'd decided it best to
keep the place. As it was, Mr Thompson had decided to take up
teaching it in his spare time, so the place had come in handy.

On the way over, everyone had insisted that they should at least
phone the police with an anonymous tip to find the body, and Damon
had finally relented, putting the call in at a phone box a mile from
Zia's place. Now the group were sitting in a circle of beanbags in
the middle of the floor. Zia's grandmother had gone through a period
of buying the things, and now they littered various parts of the
room. A strange subdued silence had fallen over them all.

"You're sure that's what they looked like?" Adam asked in a
strangled voice.

"Positive." Damon nodded. "Why?"

"Sounds like Bruce and Lydia."

"Very much like them," Cookie agreed, the colour gone from her cheeks.

"But how? I never suspected they had it in them to do this," Zia
whispered.

"As I've said, they were talking to something," Damon repeated. "I
don't think they're doing it alone. They're in league with someone."

"That's supposed to make us feel any better?" Adam snapped. "We're
/related/ to these guys."

Damon shrugged indifferently, earning a chastising look from his
brother.

"I realise this makes it harder on you," Stefan said. "And you have
the option of staying out of this if you want. It's not fair to put
you through this."

"No. We're in," Cookie said, quiet, but firm. "The fact that we're
related means we have to. Responsibility. We deal with our own."

"Okay. If you're sure. So, we know whose doing it, even if we're not 
sure why. At least we're getting /somewhere/ now. What now? Do we 
confront them? Or do we see what they do next?"

"I say we find out what that Power is they have lurking round them,"
Damon suggested. "Then we'll know what we're up against."

"I agree," Cookie sided with Damon.

"So how do we do it?" Mike asked.

"Jess, go get me a candle and matches, would you please?" Cookie
requested, licking her lips.

"Ah ha," Stefan said, lip quirking. "She's doing druidy things it
seems."

"Witchy things, actually."

"What sort of 'witchy' things, dare I enquire?" Damon asked.

"I'm gonna use my gift." She grinned at him.

"With a candle," Damon said flatly, eyes wary. "Well, I think I'll
leave. Bad things happen with psychics and candles, and it almost
always causes trouble for me," he said, moving to get up as Jess
returned with matches, the candle and a holder.

"Sit down, Damon." Stefan sighed. "We're already /in/ trouble. This
can't make it any worse."

"If the pair of you would shut up, I could concentrate better," The
witch said, shooting the pair of them a withering glance. Damon sat
down again, scowling.

"So what /are/ you going to do?" Stefan asked as she put the candle
in the holder on the floor and lit a match. "Bonnie used to get taken
over by the dead when she did this."

Cookie shot him an odd look. "Perhaps she hadn't got full control of
her Powers, then," she suggested, holding the match to the wick, then
shaking the flame out. The candle flame shrunk a little before
growing into the full yellow tear of fire. Zia shut the heavy drapes
to shut out the sunlight, and the candle flame lit everyone with an
eerie glow. "Fire," Cookie said, "is age old, primal, hypnotic. It
sparks something in the soul, mesmerising it with it's beauty,
holding it both in fear and awe with it's destructive ability, it's
hunger for fuel. It provides us with warmth to survive, but it can
also take it away from us if it gets out of control. It is truly a
force of nature.

"Fire is also a method of divining. Stare into the flames of a fire
long enough, and, as the real world fades, you'll see things, images,
visions. As I've said, fire hypnotises you, puts you into a trance, a
level of consciousness where you are open to receiving images and
messages. You can learn things, things of importance, things that you
need to know. Places, people, things."

"Excuse me, this lecture on fire is very interesting, but how is it
going to help us get the exact information we want?" Damon inquired
sceptically.

"Bonnie found me using a similar method. Apparently she was inside
my mind," Stefan pointed out. Damon shut up.

"Remind me to thank Bonnie if I ever meet her," Cookie muttered. "If
she can shut him up, she must be one hell of a girl." Stefan bit back
a laugh. "To answer your question, Damon, I intend to do something
/similar/ to what Bonnie did with Stefan. But I don't want to get
/that/ close. I don't know what, if anything, is lurking round them.
The last thing we need is that on a rampage, or Bruce and Lydia
knowing we know."

"Sounds sensible," Stefan said. "Shall we get on with it?"

"In a minute." Cookie turned to Adam, "I don't want you here
when I do this. You know them too well, and I don't want to be
distracted if you explode over something. Sorry."

"Fine." Adam looked almost relieved. "I'll be in the kitchen. I'll
make you a sandwich or something for when you finish."

"That'd be great." Cookie smiled, then turned back to the candle.
She waited until Adam had closed the kitchen door, then closed her
eyes, taking a few deep breaths. When she opened them again, she was
staring directly into the candle. Everyone else was watching her with
fascination. Her eyes glazed over, and she began to breath more
rapidly.

"You okay?" Jess whispered, concerned.

"I see an attic," Cookie spoke softly, not hearing her friend. "It's
raining hard. It's jumbled, disjointed. Like a dream."

"Is it a dream?" Damon asked.

Cookie shook her head a little. "No. I think... I think they're
memories of some kind. It's a little like waking up, the
disorientation. There's blood, and fire. A candle, I think. The
haziness is clearing now. Two people. They're sitting on the floor.
I'm inside a chalk circle, they're outside it. A boy and a girl. The
boy is holding his hand. It looks like he's cut it." Cookie frowned.
"They're Bruce and Lydia. Why are they outside a circle? What have
they done?" She whimpered a little, and stopped talking to them,
breathing becoming faster, more ragged.

"Cookie?" Jess asked again. "You alright, hun?"

"No!" Cookie jerked suddenly, then slumped down on the floor.
"Idiots. Stupid, stupid idiots." She moaned. Zia pulled back the
drapes to let light it while Mike helped Cookie sit upright.

"What happened?" Stefan asked, pinching the candle flame out with
his fingers.

"I know what they've done." Cookie said wearily. "They summoned
something up. Some kind of spirit, a bad spirit. They wanted Power.
Only it was tricky. They didn't realise that they had it's Power
while it was trapped in their circle. It persuaded them to break the
circle, telling them it was the only way. And when they did, it went
in to them."

"So that's what they were talking to." Damon mused.

"If we want to do anything with them, we have to get rid of that
thing." Cookie's voice was shaking. "And we have to do it soon.
They're planning something, only the spirit's plans don't stop there.
It wants to have a life. That's why they're taking Lifeforce. Whether
or not they know that..." Cookie trailed off. "If that thing gets a
body of it's own, it spells big trouble. We /have/ to stop it. We
have to banish it."

"So do we send it back to where it came from?" Jess asked.

Cookie shook her head. "No. That would be too difficult. I say we
let it dissipate. The thing can't survive out of a it's own place, or
out of a body."

"What about the circle?" Mike frowned.

"It had Bruce's blood. It survived off that." She sighed. "The
fools. Blood can attract bad things if you don't know what you're
doing."

"Excuse me for saying so, but I think that was what they wanted."
Damon pointed out.

"That makes this even worse to deal with. I just don't know /why/
they want to do this. I can't see why /anyone/ would want to do
this." She sighed, and slumped back into her beanbag.

The kitchen door opened, and Adam poked his head through.
"Finished?" He checked, before coming through the door with a tray of
drinks and snacks. Cookie gratefully nibbled on a sandwich.

"Thanks." She said.

"Find anything out?"

"Oh yeah." Cookie replied bitterly, and told him.

"I think we should tell mom." He said finally. The others stared at
him. "Hey, she'll believe us. She knows a lot more about this kind of
thing than even Cookie does. I for one would feel better if we had an
adult on our side. Adults have experience."

"Compared to five hundred years of my life?" Damon grinned.

"You know what I mean." Adam rolled his eyes. "Despite all the time
you've lived, you're still kids at heart, right?"

Stefan sighed. "Rather knowledgeable and world weary kids, but yeah,
you're right. I think you have a point. Maybe we /should/ involve
your mother. If you think it'll help."

"Fine." Cookie shrugged. "I'll talk with her this evening. I'm not
moving at the moment, though."

"Until then, why don't we watch the news." Zia suggested. "They
might have something on there about the third kid."

"Must we?" Mike moaned.

"I think we should at least find out who it is." Zia glared at him,
switching the TV set on.

'/The town officials of Redditch have declared it an emergency
situation this evening as police found the body of the third victim
of what looks like a serial killer on the rampage. Police were tipped
by an anonymous phone call to the location of the body, who has been
identified as nineteen year old Neil Cooper, a college student
returning home for a short break. Once again, the police have no
leads, and are anxious for the young man who phoned them to identify
himself. If has any information, /please/ call in on this hotline./'

Zia switched the set off, and perched on the edge of one of the
couches. "That's Claire Cooper's older brother." She whispered
numbly. "She's the year below us, and does dance after school with my
group. She's one of the sweetest things. And Neil was a great guy,
too. He used to drive some of us home after the lessons, didn't even
ask for gas money. Just did it out of the kindness of his heart." Her
voice choked a little. "He did it to make sure nothing like that ever
happened to any of us. Look where it got him." The tears spilled over
and fell down her cheeks, and Mike rushed over, holding her tightly
and rocking her gently.

"We have to stop them." Cookie said, determination in her voice.

"Don't worry. we will." Damon assured her, voice as cold as ice.
"One way or another, we'll stop them.

~*~

Bruce paced across Lydia's bedroom floor, fist pressed against his
mouth. He was nervous. "Why now? We've only taken three Lifeforces;
they can't be enough yet. Why so soon?"

/Three are plenty enough and more for what you desire./

Bruce frowned suspiciously. "I was led to understand your needs came
first?"

/This will be aiding my needs. To much attention has been drawn to
this. There are.../beings/ here that suspect. They may even know you.
They can stop you. It is safer to do what it is you came to do, then
move on./

"What beings?"

The voice was reluctant. /Killers. Creatures of the Night./

"Why would /they/ stop us?" Lydia asked from her bed. She was
confused.

/Let us just say that are...territorial. They stake their claim on a
place, and don't like other predators intruding./

Lydia sighed, annoyed. "It won't look good if we move on." She said.

/We will wait a few weeks. Until the fuss dies down, until the towns
people are no longer suspicious of even their own neighbours. Then we
shall move on./ It assured them.

"Where?" She asked, pouting.

"To the city. It's so big that no one will be as bothered or shocked
about the killings. And there'll be less chance of finding the
killers there." Bruce smirked.

/You speak sense. You are learning./ The voice rasped out it's dry
laugh. Bruce grew even more smug at the compliment, causing Lydia to
scowl, then turn away and sulk.

"When do we do the spell?" Bruce asked.

/Tonight. Now. As soon as you have prepared for it, gathered the
implements./

"They're all here." Lydia sniffed, hooking a bag out from under her
bed with her foot. "I made sure we had them before we started the
killings."

/Good. Very good./ This time it was Lydia's turn to be smug.

"Where are we doing it?" Bruce asked.

/Here. It is the best place to ensure success./

"Isn't that a bit dangerous? Are you sure we wouldn't be better
somewhere else? Somewhere we won't easily be discovered?"

/You question my judgement? Here is safe enough. Close enough for
the spell to work./ The voice was angry.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said meekly. "I was just worried."

/Don't be. Now, turn out the lamp and light the candles./ Bruce did
this, and Lydia pulled back the large rug from the wooden floor.
/Excellent. Lydia, you draw the circle, and do exactly as I tell you.
It could be very...bad for you if this goes wrong./ The two followed
the voice's directions. They were nervous, frightened. But a desire
for vengeance burning from deep inside drove them on, and the thought
that they would fail brought greater fear to them than the spell
itself. All the while, the voice laughed quietly in the back of their
minds, so quiet that they almost thought they were imagining it.
Almost.

~*~

Abigail Tate was working in the bottom shed when Cookie eventually
found her late that evening.

"Mom?" She asked, sliding in the door and perching on a stool in
front of the wooden bench.

"What, honey?" Her mother replied, looking up from the pestle and
mortar and smiling at her daughter. Cookie had often perched here as
a child, watching Abigail work with her herbs, learning what they
were called, what they did. It made her feel safe. Her mother made
her feel safe. Somehow her mother made things right. Just being here
eased her heart. Still, telling it was going to be difficult.

"I have a problem." She said, chewing her lip.

"What's that?" Abigail pulled up a stool of her own, and sat on it,
facing her daughter, sweeping her long, hazel hair out of her face.

"It's kind of about Bruce and Lydia."

Abigail sighed, her face troubled, almost sad. "Oh, honey. I know
you don't like them, but they're having so many problems at home
right now. Try and live with it."

"It's not that, mom." Cookie said hurriedly. "They're up to
something."

"You always think that. Your imagination is overworking." There was
no malice in her words.

"No. It's true. They..." She trailed off, miserable and lost.

"They what?"

"They're the ones killing the kids." Her voice came out in a squeaky
whisper.

"How can you think that of them? They may not be perfect, but
they're still your cousins." Abigail frowned, annoyed.

"I didn't think it of them. It was the last thing I suspected.
Someone saw them." Cookie protested.

Her mother tensed up. "Some people like to stir trouble." She said
finally. "They're probably making it up. No one here knows them well
enough. They're strangers, and people are distrusting of strangers."

"Mom!" Cookie cried. "This is the truth. He wouldn't lie."

"You know him?"

"A new guy from school."

"And you trust his word? But honey, you can't know him that well."

"I trust Damon with my life. He wouldn't lie, he has no reason to.
Not about this. He doesn't do things unless he has something to gain
from it. Most of the time."

"So this Damon, he saw Bruce and Lydia kill someone?"

"Neil Cooper. If you can't believe me on trust, then believe me on
proof. He knew about Neil hours before they announced it. How could
he know that if he didn't see it."

"Oh Cookie. You believe a stranger's words over your cousins? For
all you know, he could be the one."

"No." Cookie shook her head firmly. "I've seen his soul. It wasn't
him. I /know/ it wasn't him." She swallowed before continuing.
"And...I used my gift."

"You invaded your cousins minds? I thought I taught you better than
that." Abigail was shocked.

"No mom!" She hadn't, not to Bruce and Lydia. But she had to Damon,
and her mother's words stung. "No, I didn't do that. I just asked for
images. And it's bad."

Abigail slumped. "They really did it? You're sure?"

"Yes, mom." Her breath caught. She had to convince her mother. She
/had/ to.

"But why? How could my flesh and blood do such an evil thing?"

"Damon knew why, and what I saw confirms it. I think some of my
dreams do, too." With that, the story poured out. Or most of it. She
didn't have the right to reveal Stefan and Damon's secret, not if she
didn't have to, and so she kept quiet. "You see, mom, they're in it
over their heads, and it's too deep for us to stop. We need you." She
finished finally. "What they're dealing with is evil, it wants death
and destruction. Please. Help us."

Abigail's breathing was ragged. She was furious. "I'll do something.
I promise." She said firmly, looking into her daughter's eyes. A
weight that Cookie hadn't realised was there was suddenly lifted. She
wasn't responsible any more, she realised. She didn't have to take
charge. The relief was immense.

"What are you going to do?" Cookie asked, fearful Abigail would
confront the pair.

"I'm not going to go to Bruce and Lydia. Stop worrying about that."
She reached over and squeezed Cookie's hand reassuringly. "I'm going
to call your Granny Tate, and your dad's sister. They'll help, and we
should be able to beat it together. Especially if you help."

"I will." Cookie nodded. "I feel kind of responsible, so I'm going
to help."

"I'm glad." Her mother smiled, slipping off the stool and pulling
Cookie with her. "Come on. We'll go call your Gran now."

They made it as far as the garden path before Abigail's hands flew
to her head and her face contorted in pain.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"Am...ambulance..." Her mother choked out before collapsing to the
ground.

"Mom!" Cookie screamed in pure fear, falling on her knees next to
the unconscious form of her mother. "Mom! Answer me." Frantically she
felt for a pulse. "Mom, don't leave me. /Please/ don't leave me."
Finding her mother's faint heart beat, she raced as fast as possible
into the house, tears streaming down her face. Her hands trembling,
she dialled 911, and prayed they would get there soon.

~*~

Stefan felt helpless as he watched Cookie sitting by the bed,
holding her mother's hand. Abigail Tate was wired up to countless
machines. Machines that were keeping her alive. Human fragility
sometimes scared Stefan a lot. He'd arrived half an hour previously
with Adam. He didn't know how to tell her.

"Cookie?" He whispered, wetting his lips. She turned her head
slightly, but didn't face him. "Is it okay if I come in?"

"Sure." She said mutely. "Do what you want."

He walked over to her and gently put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm
sorry, Cookie." He winced as she shrugged, her shoulders slumping
even further after. "Cookie. We brought Adam in, too." It came out in
a rush.

Her head flew up. "What?" She whispered, fear in her voice.

"He collapsed. At Zia's. I drove him here as fast as I could..."

"No." The protestation was no louder than a whisper, but the anger
and pain he felt washing from her was as forceful as a slap in the
face.

"I'm sorry." He said again.

"No!" She screamed this time, standing up suddenly, turning to face
him. He expected the slaps and the punches when they came. He fended
them away from his face gently, but didn't stop her. She needed to
let it out somehow, and it didn't hurt him, not much. Compared to the
pain she was feeling it was nothing. She tired out after a minute or
so, and fell to the floor, body shaking with sobs.

He knelt down beside her, pulling her close. "Let it out." He
whispered sadly. "Don't be ashamed to let it out." He said softly,
gently stroking wisps of blue hair from her tear streaked face. She
clung on, as if for dear life, and he sat there, rocking her, telling
her it would be okay. But inside, he worried, frightened that things
wouldn't be alright again. All he could do was hope.

The Crow and the Falcon. (Twelve)

They'd finally managed to drag Cookie away from the hospital at two
in the morning. Jess and Mike's dad had picked them up, insisting the
distraught girl stay with them, and giving in to Zia, Stefan and
Damon staying at Cookie's insistence. She'd wanted all her friends
there, she'd said. She wanted them were she could see them, where she
couldn't lose anyone else. They'd humoured her with out of kindness.
She'd been worse when her father had died, refused to let her mother
and brother out of her sight. Now her only immediate family were both
ill, the Webbers wanted to cushion the blow as much as possible.

The remaining six of them sat in Jess and Mike's sitting room,
silent and subdued, the early morning grey doing nothing to cheer
them. Cookie was huddled on the couch, head resting on Mike's chest
and a blanket wrapped around her. She was unresponsive to them,
barely acknowledging their worried queries.

"What do we do now?" Jess asked finally. "What do we do without
Cookie's mom?"

"We do it ourselves." Stefan sighed. "Like we were prepared to do in
the first place."

"But what about Cookie?" Zia pointed out. "We need her."

"You've got me." Cookie mumbled, stirring at last. Her eyes were red
rimmed and puffy from all the crying, and her cheeks were blotchy.
"/They/ did this. I know what they did, and they're going to pay
/dearly/ for it." She hissed.

"Bruce and Lydia did this? But I thought it was medical..." Zia
trailed off at Damon's arched brow.

"A little coincidental that it would happen to them both, don't you
think?" He asked, then turned to Cookie. "So what is it, dare I ask?"

"Evil. That's what it is." She sighed. "I don't know the details. If
I did, I'd undo it."

"But you have an idea." Damon paused as the door opened behind him.

Hazel Webber put her head round the door, eyes dark from lack of
sleep. "I'm sorry, sweety." She addressed Cookie, eyes sad. "I've
been trying to get hold of your Granny Tate all morning, but there
isn't any answer. I'll keep at it, though. I'm sure we'll get hold of
her soon."

"Thanks." Cookie whispered, hanging her head.

"Jess, don't forget...you know." Hazel turned to her daughter, who
in turn scowled back in annoyance.

"I /know/, mom. I'm not going to forget." She said, hunching over
her knees, eyes hooded. Her mother held up her hands in apology, and
closed the door quietly behind her as she left.

"Don't forget what?" Damon asked, interested.

"None of your business." Jess snapped, then changed the subject.
"What's Cookie's theory, then?"

"A spell. A bad, bad spell. They did it with blood, probably, maybe
hair. Something personal, something genetic."

"Did what?" Stefan asked, confused, trying to pull her to the
present. She was muttering to herself mainly, seemingly forgetting
the rest of them. "What did they do."

"Attacked them with some kind of spell, something that would get the
whole family. That's why they're in comas. They're trying to fight it
off, but it'll drain them, kill them. They'll waste away. They'll
leave me." She whispered miserably.

"Cookie, hold on there. You said it would attack the whole family.
If that's true, why aren't you affected?" Stefan asked, even more
confused than before. She was babbling. "Cookie, why aren't you in a
coma?"

"She's adopted." Jess said at last, after it was apparent Cookie
wasn't going to reply.

"Adopted." Cookie muttered. "I lost my birth family, now I lose this
one." She cried mournfully. Stefan looked at her sadly. Damon's was
filled with pity.

Jess continued quietly. "Her parents couldn't have kids, so they
adopted Cookie, practically new- born. They discovered a few weeks
later that Abigail was pregnant with Adam. I guess it could have
ended badly for Cookie, but Abigail and Toby loved them both equally,
regardless of the fact she was adopted."

"What happened to her father?" Stefan asked.

"He died about six years ago. Of a brain tumour." Zia told him.
"They didn't find it until it was advanced. He only lived for a few
more weeks after finding out. It devastated the whole family, but
they pulled through. But this..." Zia sighed. "I don't know how
Cookie'll cope if they don't pull through."

"We'll make them pull through, then." Stefan muttered, watching
Cookie. She'd had her attention on them for a few minutes now.

"But I don't know how." Cookie moaned.

"Then we'll find a way." Damon told her sternly.

"Promise?" She asked, hope shining through the pain. She looked like
a lost and vulnerable child.

"I /swear/. If they did it, we can undo it, and we'll start by
undoing /them/." Stefan clamped down on a shudder. The savage gleam
to his brother's eye was chilling. *He really means this.* Stefan
thought with wonder. *Does he /really/ care that much?*

"If we're going to get anywhere, though, we need you to pull
yourself together." Mike said softly, stroking her hair. "Think you
can do that?"

"I think so." Cookie nodded, a fire in her eyes.

"So what do we do?" Zia asked.

"We get that thing out of them. Leave that to me." She said. "We
need a place where no one will interfere."

"Our apartment." Stefan offered.

Cookie nodded.

"If you're sure. You guys have to work out how to get Bruce and
Lydia there without arousing their suspicion. It might alert the
spirit is they're suspicious."

"I think I know a way to do that." Damon said, a grim smile on his
face.

"Good. The sooner we do this the better."

"Is tonight too soon?"

"I can be ready. It's up to you. Just don't let them know you're
with me." She took a deep breath, then faced her friends. "I don't
want you in there. I don't want you in danger. You can't do anything,
so it's better if you're well away."

"Cookie..." Jess began to protest.

"No, Jess. You won't be of any use. It'd be better if you just kept
an eye on things around town. If I fail, all hell /might/ break loose."

"She's right, Jess." Stefan told the red head. "It's better if we
stay out. Cookie knows what she's doing." He was a little surprised
at himself. For once, he wasn't demanding to do it himself, for once
he was letting the humans take things into their own hands. It was
because he had no choice, he realised, that there was nothing much he
/could/ do. Except hope and pray that Cookie could do it.

"I'm staying with you." Damon spoke up. It was a statement, and his
voice left no room for argument. Stefan swelled with pride.

Cookie stared at him a moment, meeting his defiant gaze. She nodded.
"Fine. But the rest of you keep a distance. If we fail, you're the
backup. You'll be all that's ready to stop it."

~*~

"We're leaving this evening." Bruce muttered around a mouthful of
burger.

"Won't that seem a little weird?" Lydia frowned. "I mean, Aunt Abby,
Adam and Cookie are in hospital, and we just up and leave?"

"I don't think anyone will think that. After all, Aunt Abby can't
take care of us." He smirked. "Everyone will assume we've gone home."

"But what about when mom and dad call to see how we are?"

"Like they'll care. So far as they're concerned, Aunt Abby'll call
/them/ if there's a problem. They aren't going to bother to call
themselves."

Lydia sighed. "I guess you're right."

"I know it sucks. But if they won't care for us, we'll do it."

"We gonna go by bus?"

"I guess so. Seems the easiest way."

"It seems kind of scary, being on our own." Lydia chewed her lip
nervously.

"We'll be fine." Bruce grinned. "You'll see."

Lydia peered around Bruce's shoulder. "There's a kid looking at us."
She frowned. Seeing her look, the boy walked over to them.

"Are you Bruce and Lydia Franklin?" He asked.

"Who wants to know?" Bruce asked, his stomach suddenly knotting with
nerves.

"Uh, I have a message for you." He said, proffering an envelope.

"Who gave this to you?"

The boy looked puzzled. "I...I'm not sure. A guy. I think." He
frowned. "That's weird. I don't really remember."

"Have you got to wait for a reply?" Lydia asked.

"No. Not that I remember."

"Well why are you still standing there, then?" She snapped, glaring.
The boy gulped, and backed away hastily. Lydia turned to her brother,
who was fingering the envelope. Creamy coloured, the paper was
expensive. "Well, open it." She urged him. Bruce picked up his dinner
knife, and slit the top of the envelope open. The writing paper was
also expensive looking, the writing on it bold and elegant. Bruce's
hands began to shake, and he let the paper fall to the table, face
pale. Lydia swiped it up to read it for herself.

::We know who you are. We know what it is you've done.
::It would be to your advantage to meet us at eleven tonight.
::Perhaps we can come to an...arrangement.

"We're in trouble." Bruce whispered.

"Maybe." Lydia said nervously.

"Do we go?"

"It's probably for the best. It might benefit us in the long run."

The pair of them sat there for a short while longer, waiting for
guidance from the spirit. But it never came. Exchanging a nervous
glance, they rose from the table and left the diner in a subdued
manner. They were both afraid. Very afraid.

~*~

There had been an address printed clearly on the bottom of the note,
and it was outside that door that the brother and sister now stood.

"You think whoever wrote the note is actually here?" The impatience
could be heard clearly in Lydia's voice.

"One way to find out." Bruce growled, trying the handle. He grunted
in surprise as it clicked, and opened it in to the darkened room. He
snorted. "Seems to be into theatrics. The lights are off." He told
his sister.

"They might not be here. Did that thought enter your thick head?"
Lydia told him scornfully, closing the door behind her. "Just find
the light switch. Even if they aren't here, we might as well find
/something/ about them."

"I think we should just leave." Bruce muttered, fumbling in the
darkness.

"What, and have whoever it is telling the police? They'd be after us
in no time. We wouldn't stand a chance. Besides, we can...deal...with
them if necessary." Lydia's laugh tinkled through the darkness.

"I suppose you're right." His voice rose a notch in satisfaction.
"Ah, I found it." He flipped the light switch, then whirled round in
alarm as Lydia choked down on a scream. It was the last person he
expected, but he stood up straight, and masked his emotions.

Cookie lounged on the couch, twiddling a lock of blue hair around
her fingers, a menacing glower on her face.

~*~

Cookie had sat in the darkness quietly, resisting the urge to speak,
to give herself away. Damon had written the note, made the messenger
forget. It was safer that way, he was safer, and they were safer.
Cookie's only worry had been that her cousins wouldn't take the bait,
and it had worried her until she heard their voices in the hall. Now
she worried about the task ahead.

"Cookie. Hi. Ah. I thought you were in hospital." Bruce's eyes
flitted nervously, avoiding hers.

"Your spell didn't work on me." She said, satisfied to see the pair
flinch. "I'm adopted, not blood related to mom or Adam. So the spell
didn't work on me." She sighed sadly. "Why? Why did you do it?" She
asked finally, voice choked with emotion.

Events caught up with Lydia. Things were blowing up in her face and
she couldn't take it. She flipped. "Why? You have to ask /why/?" She
shrieked. "Your family ruined ours. Your damn mother just /had/ to go
and tell ours that dad was having an affair. If she hadn't things
would still be good. Mom and dad would still be together, they
wouldn't be arguing all the time, hating each other. Hating us. She
ruined our family, so we ruined /hers/. It's only fair."

"That's why we summoned the spirit. So it could help us. So we could
get our revenge on you. It's more than powerful enough." Bruce smirked.

"But it wasn't mom's fault." Cookie whispered. "She only did it
because she cared about her sister."

"It destroyed everything we knew, everything we cared about. We were
happier not knowing." Bruce growled.

"But it was still /your/ dad in the wrong. Not /my/ mom." Cookie
choked. "/Nothing/ warrants what you did to her. To Adam. They're
dying. Slowly, horribly. You and your parents, your family are still
alive. /You/ are killing mine."

"And you'll be joining them." Bruce laughed cruelly.

Cookie shook her head sadly. She'd hoped that they'd have /some/
feelings of compassion, of regret. She didn't think that they would
be reduced to this, so inhuman. She sighed, focusing her attention on
her cousins, on their souls.

"Get out." She ordered.

"We're not going anywhere." Lydia giggled.

"I'm not talking to you." Cookie snapped. "I'm talking to /it/.
Whatever /it/ is that you called up and made a bargain with."

"You're not separating us that easily." Bruce laughed.

Cookie sighed and hung her head. "No. I didn't think it would be
that easy. I was being hopeful. Plan B, then."

Bruce arched a brow. "Plan B? Oh, I'm shaking in my boots."

"You should be." Cookie growled.

"We'll see." Lydia smirked.

((Damon?)) Cookie thought. ((You can show yourself now.))

"She's right, you know." Damon's voice rang out from the shadows,
filled with detached amusement.

Bruce and Lydia started, eyes wide, unable to pinpoint his exact
location. "Show yourself." Bruce commanded, not entirely masking his
unease.

"You didn't say the magic word." Damon laughed shortly.

"Which? We know many?" Lydia giggled again.

"Your giggling is irritating. Maybe you should stop it before you
damage someone's ear drum. Or before I rip out your throat." A shadow
from the corner nearest the door coalesced into Damon, and Lydia's
giggling choked off. "What a relief." Damon flashed a smile, and
moved smoothly next to Cookie.

"And what do you think /he/ can do?" Bruce sneered.

"More than you'd think."

"I don't think a /boy/ like you is any threat to /us/." Bruce laughed.

"Don't bet on it." Cookie muttered.

"I could kill you without a second thought. It won't mean anything
to me." Bruce sneered menacingly at Damon, who in turn smiled back,
turning the charm on.

"Oh, I can do that. But I'll /enjoy/ it." Damon laughed. "More to
the point, what makes /me/ far more dangerous than /you/ is that I
/have/ done it. I've killed countless people, many for looking at me
the wrong way, for saying the wrong thing. What have /you/ done?"
Damon advanced slowly on Bruce, jabbing a finger at him. "Killed a
few helpless teenagers. Forced another into a coma - for which, by
the way, I am going to make you pay /dearly/." He stopped and leaned
forward, his eyes inches from Bruce's. "You see, you're not in my
league. What you've done, I've done a hundred times worse. Only with
more style. And as for whatever that entity is inside of you both, I
don't know what /it's/ done, except that without it, you wouldn't
have done /anything/ right now." He reached over and held Lydia's
chin with his thumb and fore-finger. "And now, my pretty, is where it
all ends. And you're going to help."

"Never." Lydia spat.

"I think you will." Cookie warned. "You won't like the other
alternative."

"Which is?"

"A meeting with the Grim Reaper." Damon laughed. "And I'll be
wielding the scythe."

"You see, we need to get that thing out of you to get rid of it. You
can either /willingly/ let it out of your bodies, or you can die, and
it'll release itself." Cookie explained.

"What would a kid like you know?" Lydia snorted.

"A lot more than you." Damon retorted. "You see, this kind of thing
is her life. She doesn't 'dabble' like you do. She's been brought up
with this, and knows what she's doing."

"So does /it/." Bruce laughed. "And /it's/ not afraid of using black
ways. What's more, you have to /catch/ me first." He bolted out of
the door, the catch falling and locking it behind him.

"Dammit!" Cookie yelled, starting rattling the door handle. "Where's
the stupid key? We need them both for the spirit to be captured. If
we only release it from one, it'll find and enter the other one. Then
it'll be whole, and too strong to deal with."

"Oh, this just gets better and better." Damon rolled his eyes,
grabbed the door handle, and, to Cookie and Lydia's surprise, ripped
it off it's hinges. ((Keep an eye on the harlot in there.)) He
thought to Cookie as he shot out of the door. Outside he cast his
mind out to find Bruce's, then took to the air.

The Crow and the Falcon. (Thirteen)

*So much for Plan B*. Damon thought to himself. *What is it about
the nineties that are making my life so difficult? The 18th century
was easier than this. And that was a whole century compared to not
even a whole decade.* His sharp eyes picked Bruce running at a speed
faster than most humans into the woods. *Ah, he wants to play. Fine
by me. I enjoy a good hunt.* He swooped down low to the ground,
shifting back to his human form at a run, laughing wildly as he went.

"Game's up, Brucey. You can't escape from me!" He yelled after the
fleeing figure, who was having trouble running through the
undergrowth. Damon sped through it easily, dodging the trees and
shrubbery, seconds later passing by the panting boy. He stopped a few
metres in front of him and leant against a tree. Bruce stopped short
wide eyed.

"How...?" He flung himself to one side, ignoring the puzzle, and
started running again. Damon moved quickly, placing himself in front
of Bruce once again.

"I told you. You can't escape from me." The vampire examined a
fingernail, an arrogant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Bruce changed direction again, only to find Damon in front of him
once more.

"Out of my way." He snarled, and started muttering to himself.

"I'm /so/ pleased you've decided to play along. Makes my fun last a
little longer." A wind started to pick up around Damon, and Bruce
began to sweat visibly from his effort. Damon had the impression the
thing inside wasn't helping the boy.

"I'm...warning...you..." He panted.

"You are?" Damon looked surprised. "Of this little breeze? You're
hoping to give me a little chill? Wait until I'm distracted from
sneezing, then make a break for it? Oh, /really/. Credit me with
/some/ intelligence."

"/Out...of...my...way.../" Bruce snarled through clenched teeth, the
wind twisting fiercely round Damon.

"No." Damon was growing bored with this. "Why don't /you/ stop." He
reached out with his Powers and re-directed the wind towards Bruce.
It whipped dust and leaves up and around into his face before it
gentled and dissipated. "/That/ was child's play." Damon yawned. "If
you've finished with the theatrics, do you think we could go back now?"

"No!" Bruce yelled, and ran back the way he had come.

"Oh, good grief." Damon sighed and sped after, catching the neck of
the boy's sweater and jerking him back.

"Wha?" Bruce was surprised. Damon turned him round forcefully to
face him.

"/Enough/ games." He snapped. Bruce struggled violently. "I /said
enough/!" Damon snarled revealing his fangs. Bruce struggled harder,
fear coursing through him. *I give up.* He sighed, and bit deep into
Bruce's throat. The boy fainted, and Damon grinned to himself as he
slung the body over his shoulder, and set off at a run for the house.

~*~

"Did you /have/ to knock him unconscious?" Cookie asked,
exasperated. She eyed the pair in the centre of the circle, tied
securely by Damon.

"I didn't. He fainted. It's hardly my fault if he's a complete
coward, now is it. And how was I to know it would knock /her/ out,
too."

"You weren't." She sighed. "But you shouldn't have scared him so
much. We /need/ them to be conscious for this."

"I can rouse them with Power if you really want me too." Damon
suggested.

"No. If we do that, it'll interrupt with the circle's energies."

"Yes, about that. You /could/ have warned me that I'd end up on the
/inside/. I wasn't planning on that." He admitted, glancing uneasily
at the salt circle outlined on the carpet. She'd cast it a little
while before, invoking the elements, erecting the wards.

"You wouldn't be any use on the outside."

"I can't do much on the inside, either." He pointed out.

"You can get me out of trouble if something happens."

"I could do that from the outside."

"No, not the way this works. If you were human, you could. But
you're not, and you have a thresh-hold restriction. You wouldn't be
able to get into this, even if I yelled it at the top of my lungs.
It's part of the protection of the circle that nothing supernatural
can get out, and therefore in. That includes you."

"So how would I get you out of trouble?" He asked, picking at the
glaring fault in the plan.

"Need. If you really /need/ to get out, you can break the powers of
the circle with your own. You're strong enough."

"If they can be taken down, how come /you/ can't do it?"

"Because if I need your help, I won't be able to. Chances are I'll
be out of it. Unconscious, maybe. Incoherent at the least."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. So keep a close eye on things."

"One thing." Damon said after a moment's thought. "If /I/ could take
down the barriers, then what's stopping the spirit or whatever it is
from getting out?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Um. Well, it sort of depends on luck."

"Luck." Damon said flatly. "Typical."

"The thing is nowhere near it's full Power. It's split, and that
makes it weak. It's that reason that means those two still have their
minds as intact as they do. It can't take them over entirely because
it doesn't have a hold on itself. When it's drawn out, it should be
too weak and disorientated to do anything, and in that time, I
/should/ be able to banish it."

"And if you can't?" Damon asked quietly.

"Then we're in /really/ deep shit."

"You are owe me /big/ for this." He growled finally, voice full of
conviction.

"I guess you'll have to put it on my slate, huh?" Cookie asked
hopefully. Damon shot her an evil look, but, to Cookie's relief,
didn't take it further.

~*~

Bruce and Lydia's eyes fluttered open, and widened in shock and
panic when they realised they were tied, back to back, wrists
securely trussed to the other's.

"Are you going to behave and co-operate?" Damon asked, a dangerous
note ringing clearly through the guise of pleasance.

"Forget it." Lydia snapped.

Damon turned to Bruce, whose face was pale, his mouth twisted with
fear. "Do you agree with her?" Damon smiled evilly. Bruce shook his
head and whimpered. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite hear you."
Damon asked, cupping his hand round his ear.

"No. I'll co-operate." Bruce whispered hoarsely.

"What?!" Lydia yelled angrily, struggling to turn and look at him.
"How can you give in. They can't do anything if we don't co- operate."

"They'll kill us."

"Cookie? Ha! She doesn't have the guts. Her beliefs won't let her."

"No, but his will." Bruce choked out.

"Coward." She snapped, then addressed Cookie. "You need both of us
to co-operate. See how well you manage without my help."

Bruce wailed. "No! You don't understand. /He/ isn't even human.
He...he's a vampire, or something like that. He showed what he was
when I escaped. He'll kill us to get what he wants. It doesn't bother
him. /Please/, do what she says."

"It's up to you." Damon said coldly. "I don't mind either way.
Actually, I'd prefer to kill you. That crow you threw the stone at,
remember it? That was me. You broke my arm, and I don't like letting
people get away with hurting me. So take your pick. Live and have it
easy, or die by my hand. Rest assured I /will/ be extracting as much
revenge as I possibly can if you choose the latter."

His words sent shivers up and down Cookie's spine. */Please/ co-
operate.* She thought. *Mother of All, please let them choose to co-
operate.* The killing was partly a bluff. She didn't want to do it in
the circle. The negativity would make things go badly for them, and
the spirit would feed from it. It was a danger that would greatly
reduce their chances of success.

"Lydia, we have no choice." Bruce insisted.

"Alright. Fine. I'll co-operate." Lydia hung her head and stared
fixedly on a patch of carpet.

"You mean that?" Damon queried, menacingly.

"Yes." She replied sullenly, but a note in her voice said she was
telling the truth.

"Good." Cookie breathed a sigh of relief. "Now, I want you to do
exactly as I say. I want you to close your eyes, and breath slowly
and deeply. Feel your bodies relaxing, the waking world drifting
away. I want you to hear my voice. You're floating inside yourselves,
relaxed, unafraid. You're floating towards a bright light, and in
that light is a safe place, a place where you feel calm, a sanctuary
from hurts and evils. You're floating into that place now. Picture it
in your minds, every detail, every sight, sound and smell. Draw
yourselves into this place, become one with this place." Cookie's
voice was soft and soothing. She'd done visualisation work like this
before with friends, but never for anything as serious or important
as this. She didn't even know it if it would work. She left them in
silence for a good few minutes, letting them explore. She hoped they
were following what she was saying, and not bluffing. "You should be
feeling relaxed and peaceful. You should be feeling safe in your
sanctuaries.

"The light is still surrounding you, protecting you. If you reach
out, you can feel it's power. Gather it into yourselves, draw it
close, as close as you can. As much as you can, and when I am ready,
push the light outwards from yourselves, forcing the darkness away,
forcing it out from yourselves." She paused and licked her lips, then
looked over to Damon, and froze. His eyes were narrowed, his body
tense, ready to fight. *He shouldn't be doing that. Something's
wrong.* She opened up her own senses further, and fear welled up
inside her. Dark Power was welling from within her cousins, a tsunami
gathering in strength, and it was aimed at her. But not from her
cousins. The thing was leaving of it's own accord, not waiting to be
trapped by her. She could see it now. A dark, red mass, laced was
blackness, laced with evil. *Oh Great Mother and Father.* She
panicked. *My dream. This was what my dream was.* She braced herself,
gathering her own Powers, preparing to fight. The thing shrieked
loudly in rage, and flew straight for her. It never hit. She felt the
shields ripping apart at her back as she was propelled out of the
circle by a different source of Power.

She hit the floor hard, winded by the figure landing on top of her.
She looked into Damon's grim face, and then flinched as the thing
exploded through the rest of the shields and roared hotly over them,
flying out of the window.

"Need." Damon told her. "You were right. I /had/ to get you out of
there. Glad it worked." He gave a small, tight smile, then rushed to
the window. Cookie watched as Damon blurred, and the crow flew out of
the window, following the loosed evil. Fear for the vampire began to
eat away at her heart.

"What the hell happened in here?" A voice behind her demanded. She
turned to see Stefan staring at the apartment in shock. She looked at
it herself, and gasped in shock. The walls were blackened and
charred, as was most of the furniture in the room. The television was
a melted mess. *How on Earth did we survive that. We should be /dead/.*

"It went wrong." She muttered thickly in defeat. "What are you doing
here? I told you to stay away."

Stefan grimaced. "I couldn't not come. I had to help somehow.
Where's Damon?" He asked, glancing round.

"Followed it." She said mutely. Then her eyes widened. *My dream.
The Crow and the Falcon.* She thought. *Damon and Stefan....* She
spoke out loud, voice cracking with fear. "Stefan, you have to go
after him, you have to help him. He'll die without you." Stefan
frowned at her. "/Hurry/. I've /seen/ it. You have to help each
other, or you'll lose him."

Stefan's eyes widened, and he nodded quickly in understanding. "How
long ago?" He asked, heading for the window.

"A few minutes. Hurry. /Please/."

"I will." He whispered. Then his form blurred and wavered before
solidifying into it's new shape. Cookie watched in awe and respect as
the falcon from her dream soared gracefully, hunting for his brother.

((Good luck.)) She thought after him, praying from her soul that he
wouldn't be too late.

~*~

Damon was hurt and frustrated. He'd followed the thing until it
seemed to have run out of energy. It had stopped in a meadow and
Damon had landed a short distance from it, keeping a wary distance.
He'd tried attacking it, only to be repelled back by a painful
electric shocks. Besides, the thing wasn't solid. There wasn't much
he /could/ do to it. The only option he had was to wait it out, run
it till it lost it's energy and died. That was /if/ it could run out
of that much energy. His idea was that it wouldn't be able to survive
long in this world without a body to host it. At least Damon /hoped/
that was the case, if he remembered Cookie's words.

So Damon circled it, stalked it, herded it away from possible hiding
places with his Power. All the time, Cookie's dream was on his mind.
He was alone, and fully aware he could die. *Well, so be it.* He
thought finally with a fierce passion. *But I swear I'm taking that
thing with me when I go.* He grinned savagely, and sent another burst
of Power to the thing.

He was rewarded when he started to sense it's panic, it's fear that
it was naked and perhaps a little vulnerable. It never occurred to
him what it would do when it became desperate. He'd assumed that it
needed a living body, a human body. He didn't think that he was in
any danger from it. Until the thing rushed him, consumed him, and
forced it's way inside. The pain was intense, and Damon fell to the
ground, fighting to expel it, and then just fighting to hang on to
consciousness. He lost the fight as he felt cool, gentle hands
supporting his head, resting it in a lap. He wouldn't die alone,
then, he realised.

"Damon?" A worried voice whispered.

*Stefan.* He thought sadly as the blackness claimed him.

~*~

They were alone. Stefan had flown after Damon as fast as possible,
senses stretching to their limit to find any sign, fear and
desperation boosting his Powers. He'd finally spotted his brother
sprawled in a meadow a few miles out of town. The thing was gone,
destroyed, Stefan was sure it was. He couldn't feel it anymore,
couldn't find a trace of it. Damon had done it, he'd succeeded.

Now it was just him and Damon, alone in the meadow, under the stars.
He looked down into his brother's unconscious face, his head cradled
in his lap, and the tears spilled over.

"Don't die, Damon." He whispered, stroking the silky rainbow- black
hair from his brother's brow. "We've come too far now. We've not had
enough time. A year isn't long enough, we've got to put right all
those centuries of hatred." No response. "You're stronger than this,
you can survive. I've been hurt worse than this, and /I/ survived.
You're far more powerful than I am." He pleaded.

But despite his words, despair had a firm grip on his heart. /He/
had survived because of Elena. He'd lived because of her gift of
life. But now there was no angel Elena to save them, no ethereal
spirit to grant forgiveness and light on his brother. Damon had no
one, he realised miserably, heart full of defeat. */But he has you/*
the voice deep inside him said. */He has you, he has your love/*.

*But what can I do?* Stefan thought bitterly. *I'm too weak.*
Damon's breathing was becoming shallower. It was something inside him
killing him, as if he was losing the will to live. *No!* Stefan
thought with anguish. */You're not weak/* his inner voice told him,
*/You're strong. You may not have as much Power, but your spirit is
strong, your /love/ is strong. No amount of Power can help him now,
but love can. /Your/ love can./*

Stefan's tears were falling onto Damon's face now, and he stared
blindly at them. ((Don't leave me.)) He pleaded. ((Don't you dare
leave me now.)) His brother looked troubled, sad, his expression
mirroring the one he'd worn on the Tuesday night. /Tuesday night/.
*Cookie.* He thought, hope rising in him. Cookie had been inside
Damon's mind, touched his /soul/. If he could do it, if he could get
in...

Stefan reached out blindly for Damon's mind and /pushed/.

~*~

It was black. Not the blackness of night or darkness, this was a
pitch black, an evil black. It was an absence of light and life, an
absence of love. Stefan knew this wasn't normal. No matter how dark
Damon was, /this/ was not him.

A voice hissed through the blackness, seducing, deadly, and evil.
*Oh God.* Stefan thought in shock. *It wasn't destroyed, it came
/here/. It wants Damon's body.* He mentally gritted his teeth.
*There's no way it's taking my brother without a fight.*

"Damon!" He yelled through the blackness. "Damon, answer me!"

/He cannot hear you/. The voice hissed. /He is mine. His will to
fight has left him, and so soon will his will to live. Then this body
will be mine. His Powers will be mine. I will be reborn./

"/Never/." Stefan spat.

/You can do nothing. You are weak here. I am strong. I will take him./

"No!" Stefan cried out, rushing blindly for the source of the voice,
fury coursing through him. He was flung back forcefully, and it hurt.
Stefan pushed the pain back, and rushed again, only to be flung back,
again.

/See. You can do /nothing/ to harm me./ It laughed. /I am too
powerful. You are nothing more than an irritating itch, and it's time
I scratched you away./ Stefan could feel it gathering the blackness
around it, drawing in the evil, preparing for the kill.

"/Leave him alone!/" The hoarse, screaming voice echoed through the
blackness, laced with hatred and fury. Damon. Stefan felt himself
surrounded, blinded by light as the evil was unleashed.

His vision cleared to reveal a bubble of light. Damon stood in the
small, bright core, a weary, hunted expression on his face. Stefan
never thought he would see his brother looking so haggard, so
/defeated/. It wasn't like him.

"Why aren't you fighting?" Stefan asked.

"I'm trying." Damon whispered. "But I don't have anything to fight
with."

"But you're so strong."

Damon looked at him, midnight eyes filled with sorrow. "And it feeds
off that strength. It revels in anger and hatred. It delights in my
past, at the evil I'm capable of. It's like fighting fire with fire."
Damon shook his head sadly. "And the little love I have is being
crushed by my own hatred, at the things I've done. All I have is
this." He gestured around him. "All I have is what Rebecca gave me.
What I gave Rebecca, and it isn't enough."

"That's not true." Stefan shook his head. The blackness was steadily
eating away at the sanctuary of light.

"But it is. I've drawn on all I can. You see it here. There /is/ no
more."

"But it is here." Stefan said, a smile lighting his face. "/I'm/
here. I'll always be here for you." He said simply. Damon looked
bewildered, vulnerable and lost. But Stefan thought he saw a trace of
hope there, too. He held out a hand towards his brother, a gesture of
unconditional love, trust and forgiveness. It was a gesture he'd made
once before, in the clearing with Elena a little more than a year
ago, a year that seemed like an age. Damon regarded the hand for a
long moment, and finally a small smile crossed his face.

"I am what I am." He said quietly. "I can't and won't change that."

"I know." Stefan acknowledged just as quietly. "I don't expect you
to. I don't expect anything, except for you to trust me."

"I trust you." Damon nodded, taking his brothers hand.

A bright, white light flared from between them, radiating in all
directions, banishing the blackness, destroying the evil, healing
Damon's pain. The voice shrieked in agony and rage, futily trying to
push the light back. Eventually the screaming stopped, and the light
dimmed and vanished, it's purpose fulfilled. Darkness fell once
again, it's misty tendrils claiming back the parts of Damon's soul
that the invading spirit had claimed. But this time, Damon, Prince of
Darkness, kept his feelings, his love and his heart unlocked.

The Crow and the Falcon. (Epilogue)

Everything seemed strangely quiet. Stefan guessed that he'd become
accustomed to the frenzy of the past few days - normality seemed
strangely dull. But that was a good sign. Things were back to normal,
and the inhabitants of Redditch were safe, the majority of whom were
never likely to find out what had occurred lately.

Adam and Abigail Tate had woken from their comas at what the
brothers had guessed was the time the spirit had been finally
destroyed, the spell on them apparently dependent on being fuelled by
the spirit's Power. It was a small blessing, but greatly received.
Neither of them had any ideas of how to reverse it if it had still
been going strong.

Stefan sighed and hefted a box full of belongings down to the
hallway. It was surprising that as many of their belongings survived
that did. Luckily, most of the stuff that had been destroyed had been
bought when they came to Redditch. Their own most personal and
valuable belongings had been kept in their rooms, where they'd been
relatively safe. He was sorry he'd missed Cookie's theatrics about
her evil arsonist cousins. He'd been told it was impressive.

Still, it was time to move on. Bruce and Lydia's testimony could be
a threat. Granted, the community considered them to be raving
lunatics, and only displayed outright hostility to them for what
they'd done, but as Stefan had pointed out, it only took the wrong
person to listen to them. It was safer they move on. Better for their
new friends, too. That was the main reason for leaving. They'd be
safer, be able to lead normal lives. It was hard to hold on to that
when Stefan faced up to things. When all was said and done, they were
leaving some good friends, friends who accepted them. Friends who
cared.

"This is the last." Damon said quietly, coming down the stairs
behind his brother.

Stefan nodded. "Where now?"

"Wherever." Damon shrugged.

"We staying together, then?"

"I suppose. I've nothing better to do than hang around for a few
centuries with my little brother." He flashed a grin.

"Don't do me any favours." Stefan grinned back.

"Of course, there are conditions."

"I'm not drinking human blood." Stefan was adamant.

"Well, we'll see about that. A few more years in my company and
you'll probably be revelling in the stuff." He joked. "No, the
condition is that you lighten up, stop preaching to me about honour
and morals. Take me for what I am."

Stefan stared at the ceiling. "The thing with the twentieth century
is the honour and morals seem to have no place here anymore."

"Get up to date then." Damon teased.

"Nah. Someone has to keep the past alive." Damon rolled his eyes.
"Oh, alright. I'll lighten up. But I'm not going to stop complaining
altogether." He picked up a box and started for the door. "After all,
if /I/ didn't, who else would keep you in line?" He laughed and
jumped out of the door before Damon could hit him. Damon shook his
head, and followed after with a box of his own.

~*~

"So, you're leaving without saying goodbye, huh?" Jess lounged on
top of the hood of Damon's Ferrari, and blew a bubble with bright
green gum before continuing. "And to think we thought we were
friends. That hurts." She pouted.

"We thought it would be best that way." Stefan shrugged, embarrassed.

"You shouldn't think for other people." Cookie said from her seat on
the sidewalk.

"Maybe we weren't doing it for you." Damon pointed out. "Maybe it's
easier for us to let go if we don't have to say goodbye."

"We don't want you to go." Mike said. He was leaning against the
fence next to Zia.

"It's better if we do." Stefan explained, putting his box down.

"For who? Not us." Jess retorted. "We mean it. We want you to stay.
We're your friends."

"And that means a lot. But wherever we go, trouble seems to follow.
We can only bring you harm in the long run. So it's because we value
you as friends and because we care that we're leaving."

"Hey, what's a bit of danger now and then." Adam laughed. "We'd be
bored out of our minds if we were safe for the rest of our lives."

Jess looked at them earnestly, her face open and hopeful. "Please
stay. /Please/." Stefan shrugged uncomfortably, while Damon stared at
the floor. "Aw, C'mon. Don't make me beg here, guys."

"Where would we stay. We've totalled the apartment." Damon told her,
gesturing to the top of the large house.

"Paul is taking over the attic space, Kate couldn't take the noise
on the top floor. Those plus the spare room leave you a choice of
three rooms at our place." Mike suggested.

"What about your mother?"

"She won't mind. We kinda asked anyway." Jess grinned sheepishly.

"Uh huh. And what was it Cookie was saying a minute ago about
thinking for other people." Stefan grinned. "Anyhow I don't think
your mom would appreciate two vampires living under her roof."

"If she can put up with those two plus six other monsters, you guys
would be tame in comparison." Zia laughed, speaking up. "You wouldn't
have to tell her, anyway."

"Oh yes we would." Damon muttered. "Stefan wouldn't be able to live
with himself if he didn't..." He trailed off and shot a filthy look
at his brother as Stefan kicked his leg.

"Come on. Stay." Adam urged.

"At least give it a try." Cookie added.

"You can't spend the rest of eternity running away." Mike told them.
Stefan began to feel unsure of himself.

"Please." Jess slid off of the car, and knelt down on the sidewalk.
"Look, I'm /begging/ you now. /Please/ stay." She shuffled forward in
front of Stefan, and looked up into his face, her eyes wide.

Stefan laughed. "You'll ruin your pants doing that."

"Who cares. My hard image is totally out of the window now. What's a
pair of pants compared to that."

"Oh for Gods' sake. Just tell her we'll stay before she decides to
start up the waterworks." Damon sounded disgusted, but a grin tugged
at his lips.

Stefan stared at him, surprised. "You /want/ to stay?"

"It's as good a place as any." He replied. "But I'll leave it up to
you."

"You think if I /did/ cry, he'd stay?" Jess asked him.

"Probably. He's a sucker for damsels in distress." Damon told her,
then grinned menacingly. "But I wouldn't do it if I were you."

"Why?"

"I'd have to kill you."

"Try it, bud. I'd floor you in seconds."

"Of course." Damon arched a sceptical brow at her. "And is that a
pig with wings flying behind you?"

Jess poked her tongue out at him, then turned her attention back to
Stefan. "Pur-lease." She whined.

"Okay, okay." Stefan laughed. "I give in. We'll give it a try. I
mean, I promised Zia I'd help with her chemistry, so I can't leave
her in the lurch, now, can I?"

"Yes!" Jess yelled, jumping up and throwing her arms around his
neck. He was surprised, but after a moment he hugged her back.

"Anyone up for a celebratory meal at Deb's?" Zia asked happily.

"Maybe we could get those somewhere safe first?" Damon pointed to
the boxes. "Because if someone steals my stuff the police are going
to be dragging a body out of the gutter."

"I'll give you a hand then." Mike told them, shooting Damon a
withering glance.

Stefan pulled Jess back as the rest of them retreated to the hallway
to fetch the remaining boxes. "Just one thing." He said.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you accept what we are so easily?"

"Because I think I understand to some degree." Jess replied, a
little reluctantly.

"How?" Stefan was intrigued.

Jess thought for a moment, then nodded as she came to a decision.
"My secret is hardly in your league. I guess I owe it to you to tell
you. I have Diabetes. Had it for years now. Every day I have to stick
needles in my arms and give myself insulin. Without it, I die. So I
can understand about having to depend an outside substance to
survive. From what I can gather, you aren't to thrilled about being
dependant on blood. Well I'm not thrilled about being dependent on a
damned injection to live. I get so sick of the needles, the calorie
counting, not being able to eat what everyone else eats. Hell, if I
want to grab a burger I have to know about it at the start of the
day. Then there are the tests. Frequent visits to the hospital to
make sure I'm okay. All of it alienates you from the rest of the
human race. You start feeling envious of the freedom other people
have. I'm only guessing here, but I imagine you probably experience
similar feelings about your own condition."

Stefan sighed. "Yes. But there's a difference. At least I had the
choice. At least blood drinking doesn't cripple what activities I
want to do like it does you. And I thought I had it bad."

"Hey, but look at me. Do I let it get to me? You think I lead a
substandard life? Do I sit around moping?"

Stefan shook his head and grinned a little. "No. You lead one of the
fullest lives I've ever known."

"So learn a lesson. Get over your handicaps, don't dwell on them.
You'll feel a whole lot better for it."

"Maybe." He said quietly. Then, after a few moments, "You're sure
your mom won't freak when we tell her what we are?"

"Hey, my mom would invite an alien invasion force in for coffee and
cake. I don't think she'll have much of a problem with a vegetarian
vampire and his wayward brother. Besides, she likes you guys." She
grinned.

"But I'm not vegetarian." Stefan frowned.

"Might as well be." She said, reaching up and ruffling his hair.
"Lighten up a little. It's the nineties after all." She skipped up
the path after the others.

*Welcome to the nineties, Stefan.* He told himself. *And a brand new
start.* He smiled, took a deep breath of fresh air, then followed
Jess. The future was looking bright for a change. He decided to enjoy
it for once.


The End

Thanks for reading. Hope your brain survived the ordeal. ;)

Witchy facts were made up by me, even though the chakras and the
like do exist. I just played with them - dramatic license and all.