Vampire Diaries 1. Bad, Bad Little Girl

_27 years ago..._

"Oh no! There is no way in Hades or Heaven I want your help!" she shouted, even though her earlier drinking rage had buzzed her hearing into a soft hum of noise. Her feet doubled, and she gripped a tree as she stumbled towards him, trying to act menacing.

Her beloved friend, Vlad, shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I don't care. You're not safe here anymore. You're problems have escalated to dangerous levels, and I'm afraid something bad will plague your mind if you don't get away from this," he stated sternly, shaking an empty vodka bottle in her face.

She spied a little more alcohol in the bottom of the bottle and tried to snatch it, but Vlad held it above his head and grabbed her shoulder. Feeling like she'd been betrayed, she bared her long teeth and aimed a scratch at his cheek.

He eyed her fingers and realized how emaciated they looked. Actually, her whole body was pale like death. Her breath smelled of heavy alcohol, and her attire screamed "mental hospital" if he didn't get her to a quiet, drug and alcohol free enviroment.

"My sweet Giuseppe, please...let me help you one more time, then I'll never help you again unless you ask for it."

Although it took multiple hours to get her to coöperate, she finally agreed that he'd take her somewhere peaceful and where she could live for a few decades and be under the care of good people who knew about her "condition."

A few hours of driving through grueling rain and lightening flashing overhead, they found a quiet town called Mystic Falls. Vlad parked near an old boarding house that had dim candles flickering in the stained glass windows.

Vlad leaned over and nudged his friend awake, whom had dozed off in the backseat, dreaming of green meadows and herds of horses.

She blinked and moaned, then sat up.

"Why are you doing this?" she whimpered.

"Because I care for you." Vlad climbed out of the driver's seat, ran to the backseat door, and yanked open the door. "And these people are distant family members of mine. They'll take good care of you."

When he scooped his friend into his arms-whom shivered beneath his black jacket-he carried her through the pouring rain, waving to the elderly couple who had opened the front door. Light spilled in from the inside of the boarding house, and a little boy was peering through the doorway shyly, watching Vlad carry his burden to the front door.

"There you are! We'd thought you'd get lost in the storm," the elderly woman said with motherly worry in her voice.

Vlad tightened his grip on his friend and smiled tightly. "We're here now. And I want you to know that if you ever need help with finances or bills or anything, please contact me..." he said, but the woman held up her hand and smiled at the drowsy bundle in Vlad's arms. "Is she alright?"

"Despite her condition, she's got a high fever." Vlad nodded at the old man, who felt Giuseppe's forehead tenderly. Vlad set her on her feet, and she swayed. He looked at the woman. "And I have something that I need you to help me enforce."

"Of course. How can we help?" the old man said.

Vlad ran back to his vehicle and snatched a hidden leather tote bag under the passenger seat. He ran back and gave it to the man. The woman had ushered Vlad's friend inside and was patting her dry with a blanket.

Vlad gave the old man a hopeful look. "There are instructions inside the pocket. Make sure you do this everyday for at least a year. And don't worry; her bark is worse than her bite." He smiled at the little boy. "Hey, buddy. Take care of your housemate, okay? She'll be your best friend if you take care of her." The little boy nodded and shook hands with Vlad.

Then he left.

* * *

~As a single Harley Davidson roared down a deserted road, it was a clear evening sky above the quiet town of Richmond, Virginia. The moon was ripe for lovers to express their feelings under the light of the moon and the accompanying stars.

She didn't usually go this fast down a road, but it was an emergency, and she didn't have time to watch for cops. Even if she did get caught speeding at suicidal limits an hour, she just asked them to forget them they saw her and she'd take off at the same speed, maybe even faster for the thrill of racing without the protection gear.

Being this rebellious poked at the slumbering but insane feeling of being daring and crazy off drugs and drinking, but she'd promised her friend Vlad and caretakers she would be careful and only be reckless when needed. Besides, she had devoted the last twenty-seven years to protecting those who needed help. And needed forgetting.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The call had come to her about eleven o'clock that evening while she was doing her hourly cardio session, and a hysterical woman said that she had returned home from shoe shopping with her friend when she found a blood on her living room carpet. She had freaked out when she saw a large wolf dash out her back door with her husband in its jaws. Though the husband had been dead before the wife got home, the wolf had left a steady trail of blood heading west. The wife followed the wolf as far as she could before she found the remains of her husband in tatters.

The hunter promised that she'd return to console the wife after she got rid of the wolf. She rang off and show took a five-minute shower with an extra thirty seconds to fill up her metal water bottle. She picked her favorite weapons, a gun loaded with silver bullets, a syringe filled with wolfsbane, and her automatic pistol, and took off on the highway towards Richmond, where the latest reports on the news said that people had seen a wolf with a bloody muzzle run towards an abandoned part of town.

Her Harley vroomed faster down the road, and she barely spied the abandoned manor house on her left. She pulled in and cut the engine, and stuffed both hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, hiding the automatic and dagger sheath beneath her shirt.

The poor, old house had once been a beautiful Victorian style, meant for grand balls and afternoon teas, but now it stood like a giant mausoleum, it's only inhabitants the creatures of Mother Earth. It smelled of mildew and moss, freshly soaked due to last night's rain storm. Wood creaked and the shuttered groaned, window glass in careless shatters across the rotting porch.

Pulling her gun from her waistband, she advanced forward with caution, eyes open and scanning every patch of grass, her steps measured and soundless. With her gun loaded with special bullets and her heightened sense of sight allowing her to see every detail of the house, she slowed her gait as she approached. Nocturnal animals scattered across the over grown lawn, and she heard an owl hoot above her somewhere in an oak tree.

A long groan from inside the house caught her attention, and she picked her way carefully towards the porch steps.

Arriving at the bottom step, she gently applied pressure with her booted foot, testing its fragility. It made a low creak, but held her weight. She repeated this routine four more times, then tip-toed to the front door. Apparently, her intended target was lurking somewhere inside because the door was ajar.

She eased it open.

Sheet covered furniture littered the parlor in elegant angles and patterns, the marble fireplace along the far wall long since cold, and a long catwalk loomed low above the black piano in the corner. Dust particles and scents of rotten meat filled her sensitive nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose. While she turned to the kitchen and grand staircase to her right, she lifted a black and white bandana to cover her mouth and nose to clear her airways for unusual fragrances instead the stink of rot and decomposition.

The kitchen was bare except for granite counters, an open archway leading to a grand dining room, and a broken window over an ancient looking dish washing pump. A bronze chandelier swung gently overhead in a chilly breeze, and she shivered.

A thump above her head made her jump and look up. A cracked ceiling, but what had made that noise?

Being soundless as she made her way to the grand staircase, her feet met faded red carpet on each step, which made her goal to get upstairs quietly helped immensely. A picture of an old couple stared back coolly at her, wearing Victorian style clothing and jewelery. They watched the black clad hunter move silently past and stop at the bronze banister at the beginning of the catwalk. She quickly scanned the new scenery and breathed gently beneath the bandana.

She couldn't remember where the thump had come from exactly, but she stopped, held her breath, crouched low, closed her eyes, and opened her sense of hearing wider.

In her mind, she saw three doors on her right, one wide open and showing a marble bathroom and mildew laundry, another showing a four-poster bed with ruffled bed sheets and a broken bed post. The last door was tightly locked.

A big door across where she crouched was open, and inside looked like it belonged to the lord and lady that once slept in the big king sized bed.

Her heightened hearing heard the scrape of something across the wooden floor...

She opened her eyes and, staying low, crept forward, pointing the gun towards the open room, sighting the barrel level with her eye. Her keen senses took over her entire body, and every second that passed as she slowly made her way towards the bedroom, she grew more anxious to face her attacker.

As she reached the doorway, she peeked around the corner...and saw chaos everywhere.

A once beautiful chaise lounge stood shredded to nothing but old cotton and velvet, the marble table next to it shattered to pieces. The king-sized bed was in tatters and old cotton and fluff to make a more comfy bed to suit a wolf, so the bed posts snapped in half, and the two sconces that had once hung on the wall now lay in shatters on the floor. Torn, velvet curtains fluttered, and moonlight spilled into the room.

She straightened and walked cat-like into the room, pointing her pistol both directions. She headed for the dark corners near the old chaise lounge first and peered around the old furniture, pistol first.

Just a shadow.

She let out a breath, and turned her attention to the bed...

...just as a large, black form leapt at her and slammed her into the ground. Her breath left her lungs, and she gasped for air as something warm and human gripped her throat with a vise like grip and squeezed.

"Wrong playground to play in, little girl," a male voice hissed at her.

With all her might, she shook him free by curling her legs up to her chest and shoving her enemy away from her. The man flew back and landed among the fluff and sheets that had been the bed. He stood up straight and faced her full on.

She braced for his attack.


	2. It's Your Problem

~She at least expected some sort of gruesome looking man with blood all along his face and torn clothes. But instead she got this attractive man with wild midnight black hair and eyes the color of the sky on a spring day after a rain storm staring at her. Still, she raised her gun and looked down the barrel at him, pointing the gun at his chest.

He wore clothing only meant for wealthy folk. Wearing black jeans, black boots with buckles along the heel, and a black leather jacket over a black pull-over, he looked like he should have enjoyed a whiskey at the local bar. His hair was almost as curly as hers with little flips along the nape of his neck and around his ears, his thick eyebrows perfectly curved and furrowed.

But his eyes were almost...captivating.

So blue...almost electric blue as they sparkled with adrenaline rush to attack her. In all her years, she had seen beautiful green, brown and even purple eyes...but had never seen a man with blue eyes such as his.

And he looked dangerous. A "Bad Boy." And God help her, he was just...just...

She broke out of her reverie as he mocked her with his smooth voice, "Am I really that pretty?" He grinned with a sneer at the corner of his lips.

Oh great...he thinks he's amusing.

Then something clicked. How did he survive her push? Usually she accidentally broke a few bones if he was a human, maybe even kill him. If he was a wolf, then he would have shifted and attacked her easily. But no...he was standing there watching her with an amused expression, as if she hadn't shoved him at all. Which only meant...

She ripped the bandana off her face and heaved a big breath, letting the fresh oxygen fill her lungs. His attack had left her a bit breathless.

"I was actually looking for a four-legged wolf with blood on his mouth. Seen him lately?" she asked as a matter-of-factly.

"No...but if I see him I'll tell him his punk-ass girlfriend is wanting some," he replied, brushing dust off his jacket. He smiled at her attire.

She spun her gun around on her finger and pushed it back into the waist of her jeans. "So what are you doing here? Isn't there some sort of girl-on-girl fest you're missing?" she spat, crossing her arms.

"No thank you, sweetie." He looked around the room and observed the peeling wallpaper. She watched carefully while he walked, so as she could spring free if he made a move to tackle her again. He turned back to her. "Strangely enough, I'm looking for the same wolf. Is it black?"

She blinked. Her target indeed was black with a silver streak running down the length of its back, but she hesitated before answering. She had run into people like her who always tried to trick her out for information, like what her target looked like. She had fallen for the trick too many times to count, and every time she did, high valued targets ended up in the hands of others. So she always replied with a simple lie.

"I'm afraid not. I'm looking for a slightly reddish one with blue eyes. Sorry for wasting your precious time, Little Princess." She turned to leave.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire..." he whispered from behind her.

"Hey, buddy, If I saw a black wolf I'd let you know. I'm not that bitter." She made her way back down the deserted hallway.

Out of nowhere, the man was standing in front of her. He had appeared so fast in front of her she hadn't seen him come in from the bedroom. He moved like a blur, with not a sound to make.

"Get out of my way," she warned. She didn't like things blocking her path, alive or otherwise.

"I have no tolerance for little girls who don't tell me the truth," he said.

"And I have a zero tolerance policy for bad boys with an oversized ego bubble. Now move," she warned again.

"Well, excuse me, your Highness. I didn't know you were the queen of Sheena," he said, sneering.

She rolled her eyes and huffed out a sigh of frustration. Her patience line was as thin as fishing string, so it wouldn't take very long to snap that patience in half.

"You have three seconds to move it or you'll find yourself hanging from the banister." She balled her fists and looked him square in the eye.

"Aw...is it time for the little girl to go to bed?" He kept teasing her, and she knew he was doing it to get her to spill the beans.

"One..." The string was stretching.

"And I just happen to have known the former whereabouts of the wolf..."

"Two..." It was about to snap in half.

"So, if you want to talk over dinner..."

Her gun fired off three shots.

The giant black wolf leapt from the doorway of the bathroom and aimed to take her down, but she had raised her gun over the man's shoulder and fired near the shoulder blades. The wolf yelped in pain and fell to the marble floor, where a stain of blood increased in size and dripped from the catwalk on to the floor below her. As she approached with the syringe ready in her hand, the man had jumped behind her and was now chuckling.

"Oh, such a bad ass," he said.

She ignored him and lowered her hand to the wolf's neck.

The wolf suddenly jumped up and sank its teeth into her wrist, and she released the syringe and grunted with pain. As she struggled to pry the beast's jaws open with her free hand, its teeth bit deeper into her vein, and more blood squirted across the marble. She fell on to her back to attempt shoving the wolf off her with her boots, but the creature pressed it's weight on her chest, and she struggled to breathe. The syringe was a hand's distance away, and she tried grasping it, but, with it precariously dangling off the edge to the floor below, she didn't want to test fate and risk her chance of losing her only syringe.

The man was dancing back and forth, trying to grab the wolf in a choke hold, but now he was looking at the open window in the other bedroom. She hated working with a partner, but she saw herself losing her target-and possibly her life-if she didn't somehow ask for his help. She tried to turn towards him, but the wolf had released her wrist and was going for her neck; the only way she was safe was that she had the wolf's shoulders in her hands and was pushing at the beast to keep it from getting its jaws around her throat.

"I hate to make this your problem," she sniped sarcastically at the man standing on the defense in the corner. "but help me here, please?!"

The man just stood there and smiled. "I don't know..."

"Good God, man I'm about to lose my chances of living for tomorrow if you don't plunge that syringe into its neck at the back of his head!" The wolf's strength doubled, and she gripped his jaws and pushed harder.

"If I do so, you have to do something for me in return," he said as he calmly made his way to where the syringe was out of her reach.

"Fine! Just do it!" she shouted at him.

Before she saw her life flash before her eyes, she glimpsed the man take the syringe full of wolfsbane and shoved it into the back of the wolf's neck. The creature yelped, went still, then went limp on top of her.

She shoved the wolf off her and stood, while the man handed her back the empty syringe.

Although she didn't want to, she held out her hand and said, "Thanks for the help," she said simply.

He gazed at her hand as if to spit on it, but he grabbed it and shook it. "I'm Damon."

_Damon..._she let the name roll off her tongue in her head as she gave him a tight smile and bent towards the wolf. She grabbed it by the scruff, heaved with her knees, and swung the beast over her shoulders and walked downstairs.

"Hey, punk-ass. Gotta name?" he called down to her.

She turned and gave him an evil glare. "Yeah, it's 'None of Your Bee's Wax.'"

* * *

~After returning from her hunt, she went back to her apartment and sighed a big breath of relief. She was home, and she wanted to stay that way for a while. She shrugged out of her jacket and placed her gun under her pillow, stowing her dagger sheath in the top drawer of her oak dresser underneath her T-shirs.

Just as she was about to go out for a quick midnight snack, her BlackBerry blasted Evanescence from her bedspread. She answered it.

"How the hell did you bag an old wolf in less than three nights?"

She smiled warmly at the male voice. Jack Frost, as he wished to be called since he was supposed to use an undercover name when talking on the phone.

"Don't know, Jack. Could it be that I've done this since 1985?" she jested.

"Don't wanna know how. So, I've got a new criminal. She's near your area, but the bounty hunters of West Virgina and North Carolina are trying to get their feet forward first."

"Who is it?" she asked as she walked towards a wall covered with a map of the United States and manila folders filled with criminal records.

She considered one of the best damned bounty hunters of the nation. Since her friend had given her to the Johansen family 27 years ago, she had befriended Nicholas Johansen when he was only five years old. Both of them decided that they wanted to protect innocent humans from the terrors of the supernatural world, like werewolves and vampires, and even witches. So, when Nick was only twenty years old, he quit college to be hired by a vampire boss who hired bounty hunters like Nick and her, and it return, the boss would pay both handsomely.

"Jack" was talking to her as she looked at the map.

"Names Blaire Mongomery. She's a rogue vampire that's never been taught the true meaning of 'lying low.' She keeps killing her boyfriends, and her friend finally got tired of it and reported it to Betsy. She's been traveling through the Eastern states, and the Boss is getting tired of it." She heard the rustling of papers.

"Where was she last seen?" she asked.

"She was last seen in North Carolina, towards Roanoke Rapids. The Boss has given the bounty hunters near the area two days to catch her."

"Penalty?"

"Twenty years of service to the Boss."

"Ah...I think I've tried to find her before. Little cow pushed me into a fireplace." She grabbed a periwinkle colored marker and made a little circle around the town of Roanoke Rapids and the initials B.M.

Time for another hunt.


	3. Wolf Abound

~She returned home just after noon the next day, having found Blaire Montgomery trying to kill another boyfriend. A good rest and lots of crappy reruns on television sounded good right about now.

But first, she needed to hit the grocery store for her nutrition, and to go by the storage unit to give the wolf and Blaire to the Boss's men. So she drove the long way back to Mystic Falls with Blaire bound in silver chains and a silver mouth gag in the backseat and spotted the silver van parked next to the gate at the storage unit. Parking next to the van, she honked her horn, and rolled down the window.

The driver's tinted window also rolled down, and a familiar face poked out.

"Wanna let the mob's boys in?" he said playfully with a grin.

She put the number for her unit in, and led the way to the storage space. She had specifically asked for a medium-sized storage unit in a far corner so no one would suspect anything from the get-go; for when someone decided to snoop, she had an app on her BlackBerry that warned her someone foreign was breaking into her storage unit.

"It's good to see you again, Nick," she said as she climbed out of her truck and watched the tall, blonde man clamber out. They embraced warmly, sharing a secret handshake only known to Big Boss's men and hunters.

Nicholas Johansen was a gorgeous young man of thirty-two, with a mop of silky blonde hair and sparkly green eyes. He was built to take on a freight train, and always had the demeanor of a spy: cold and expressionless, and doesn't let people waste his time. She and Nick had a special bond of partners, as well as brother and sister. He watched her back while she made sure he was financial stable since he lost both of his parents at age twenty-three.

"So, the Boss wants his targets," Nick said as he unlatched the van doors. Inside was bare except chains of unbreakable metal attached to shiny steel rings along the walls. Each length of chain had a strand of steel encased wood and silver loops and shackles around their feet and wrists as well as bits to cover up their mouths and keep their fangs from extracting.

"Well, I have them right here." Opening the storage unit door, she uncovered the witched magic cage and found the black wolf trying to growl or bark at her through his bit, chains rattling against the cage. She had chained Blaire next to the door where Nick's partner, code-named Digit, stood by watching her. He nodded at the duo and turned to watch for curious onlookers.

"Nice work, Ghost. The Boss will be extremely pleased." Nick had a clipboard in hand and was taking notes about her hostages. She also knew there was a tiny camera near the clip so visual and audio evidence were included. The Boss was not one to trick or fool, because the consequences were always dire. So each one of his private bodyguards like Nick and Digit was monitored by the Boss's computers and vampires and werewolves, and, if they passed the test, they were given special training and entrusted with a bounty hunter that the Boss hand-picked.

"Well, it wasn't easy with the wolf." She hooked a thumb at the anxious beast.

"It never is easy with werewolves. Territorial bastards...probably pee on other wolves' fire hydrants as well," he replied.

She chuckled. "True that." She kicked the cage gently and sighed. "So, anything new in the area?"

"Strangely enough...not really. Two bounty hunters in West Virginia are on the trail of a pair of twin witches, and another hunter in South Carolina doesn't want help with a werewolf case. Looks like you're good until someone calls you again."

Twenty minutes later, Blaire and the black wolf were secured in the van with two more agents watching them while Nick and Digit were in the front cab. Before Nick drove off, he pulled up next to his partner and sighed.

"Look, I...just wanted to tell you that I miss you a lot. And that you need to be careful." He gave her a knuckle pound and smiled.

Then he drove off.

She waved them off then jumped into her truck to drive home. A long day it had been, and she was ready to take that long bath after grocery shopping.

* * *

~"So tell me again why I am hunting in the midst of the Mystic Falls woods?" she said into her phone.

Jack gave a frustrated sigh. "Because your current target is said to attack female vampires. This target is big money, twenty thousand."

"Penalty?" she asked, slipping a silver plated glove onto one hand.

"Death by removal of heart; Big Boss has named the hunter to execute punishment. Good luck, Ghost."

She sighed and tightened her belt around her waist. With her pistol safely secured inside it's sling, and a wolfsbane syringe tucked inside her jacket, she tugged her bandana over her mouth and nose. Dark clouds hung over head, warning her to secure her target before it rained. So she jogged toward the old church where the wolf's previous scene was last known, her glove hidden beneath her black jumper.

She had been specially trained to kill werewolves and vampires, having spent at least four hours a day reading old books she had scoured from hidden libraries and practiced mercilessly on dummies. She and Nick had called the Boss's henchmen and asked about how other bounty hunters have killed their targets when need be, and the answers had been pretty gruesome. This assignment was no different from one a few years back when a werewolf and his lover were killing mayor after mayor in North Carolina. The only time she killed on sight was when the Boss didn't have the time or if the target was too unimportant to receive the attention of the Big Boss.

A few drops of rain hit her forehead, so she moved faster towards the church, which was only a few yards away. The smells of nocturnal creatures and plant life swirled around her in a dizzying manner, but she opened her sense of smell wider so she could catch the scent of wolf more accurately. Her sharp eyes could glimpse the crumbling walls of the church that once stood as God's house of salvation; now it stood like a forgotten gravesite, overrun by moss and lost history.

The faint smell of wolf suddenly wafted around her, and she heard a scuffle of something running around the ancient grounds.

Staying low to the ground, she crept forward towards a rotting wall and pulled her pistol from her belt. The fragrance of wet dog and feces grew stronger as she aimed her gun above the wall and peered over silently.

Instead of a russet wolf with gleaming brown eyes, she found a pair of girls standing in the clearing.

"Why are we here, Caroline? Stefan was supposed to help me with my habits at the boarding house," the first girl said.

The other girl sighed. "Because Stefan asked me to help you with your feeding habits," she said.

The hunter held her breath and slipped the bandana from her face. The fresh air of the night swarmed around her, and she thought she had just smelled scented wet dog...

Bushes behind the two girls moved ever so slightly. A wolf with black eyes watched the girls at the other end of the church.

She silently cursed and yanked her bandana up her mouth again.

As a hunter, there were rules to her freedom, like not telling anyone what she did or who she was and keeping innocent people safe. She hoped the two girls would leave before the wolf decided that they would be its next meal, but she also made sure the beast didn't see her sneaking up on it. She also didn't want to alert the girls that they were being watched by a vampire-blood thirsty wolf. If she tried to obscure the girls attention in her direction, the wolf would pounce, and she didn't know if the girls were fast enough to ward the animal off. Her only chance of capture and death was to stick it with a syringe and drag it off somewhere else.

But, just to make sure the girls didn't try to find her identity in the future, the hunter pulled her hair back into a ponytail and slid a hood over her head to shadow her eyes. And, like an assassin, she began to creep around the old structure.

As she moved, she kept the girls' movements in her peripherals. She had to admit; they were both quite attractive. One was tall and slender with long locks of brown hair and bark tree colored eyes with a pointed chin. The other girl was more voluptuous and had bouncy blonde curls and sapphire blue eyes.

The blonde, Caroline, spoke again. "So, Elena, Stefan says you've had trouble keeping your blood lust under control?"

"Yes; every time I try to feed on the vein I turn into a blood-lusting creature like Damon," Elena answered, crossing her arms.

Damon? The name reminded the hunter of the man the night before who helped her with the wolf at the mansion. She moved slower and locked her eyes on the wolf, now only a yard from her. But she had to stalk between trees, and she didn't want the girls or the wolf to see her. so she kept to the shadows.

"That's why you and I are here. We're going to talk first, then I'm going to show you how to control your blood-lust," Caroline said. She had a blood bag in her hand.

The hunter was now at least three feet away from the wolf. Up close, she saw it was also waiting to jump the girls; haunches close to its back paws, a low growl rippling through its throat. It's russet color gleamed like copper in the silver moonlight, teeth and claws razor-sharp and strong enough to rip through steel.

"How is this going to help?" Elena said, eyeing the bag of blood.

"We will train your nose and eyesight first." Caroline ripped open the bag of blood and let a few drops hit the ground. Elena watched with a hunger that only a new vampire would.

_So this Elena is a new vampire?_ the hunter thought absently.

The wolf was in jumping distance. And there was an old tree stump on her right for when the beast leapt first, then she could tackle it in midair. Looped around a jeans belt loop was some silver rope that was for emergencies only, but she thought it useful to quiet the wolf without the animal barking or alerting the girls to a point of an audience. The last thing she needed was for a pair of girls to watch her kill her target.

As she unlatched the rope from her belt, a new figure ran into the clearing next to the girls.

_Damon._

She was momentarily awestruck by his masculine beauty within the moon's halo of light, wild hair gleaming with silver and blue eyes that flashed like blue lightning. He was clad in all black again, but his shirt was a button down and hugged his chest perfectly. Jeans that hugged his waist, and she glimpsed a heavy, silver ring inlaid with a blue stone on his left hand. A daylight ring, no doubt, She wore one herself: a plain nose piercing made of steel stamped with one, tiny lapis lazuli stone literally branded into the right nostril. She took a second to study the ring on his finger...

...that she had no time to react as the wolf leapt at her.


	4. Flames Abroad

~Of course she had to lock eyes with Damon as the wolf leapt for the duo of vampire girls. Sure, his eyes were gorgeous, but keeping those girls safe was her number one priority. Her second was to capture and kill her target. But not here; she had no choice but to kill it at her storage unit.

As the wolf snarled and made a move for the girls, the hunter placed a foot on the stump next to her and bounded over the old wall, keeping her face shadowed and tightening the draw strings around her jacket hoodie. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she rolled on to her hip, aimed her gun, and fired a shot at the beast's ear.

The bullet split the ear in two and blood spurted everywhere. Her target growled, spun to face her, then charged. She jumped up and twirled into her defensive position, and waited.

As part of her year-long training, she'd been taught how to evade a charging wolf without making her target expect her next move; she could leap off a tree branch and tear a vampire's head off without giving her target any signal she was intending to kill. It took real skill and the right muscle movement to seem like she was supposed to leap to the side when she really wanted to jump overhead and land hands first behind her target. So as the wolf neared, she flexed her muscles and leapt ten feet into the sky, and dismounted a perfect hand-stand before rolling to her feet and lunging for the wolf.

The wolf was struggling to free itself from her clutching grip on its girth. It kicked and growled, foam flying and teeth snapping, but she held on, cursing wolves to hell before throwing it to the ground and removing the syringe from a pack on her hip, kneeling down to stab it straight into the wolf's heart, and pushing the plunger as hard as she could.

It gasped a wolf-like breath, then went still.

Someone was clapping.

She looked up and saw Damon laughing and slapping his hands together, like he was congratulating her for her victory. And he appeared impressed with the results.

"Jeez, woman, if I'd known people like you were so...handy, I would have had one of you bed me my first time instead of a milkmaid," he teased, then watched her carefully.

The hunter growled, jerking her gun out of her holster. The barrel pointed at his heart. "Back off, Damon. I'm not here for your amusement."

The two vampire girls were watching the scene like a movie, and Caroline stepped forward, cautiously. "You two know each other?" Elena came forward, eyes on the hunter, nostrils moving. The hunter rolled her eyes and shot a poisonous glare at the newborn; the look said, "I am one with which you do not screw with." Elena backed off and shivered.

"Oh yeah!" Damon said excitedly. "We go way back, from our own childhood. We used to play, 'Show me yours' behind the barn." He chuckled at his own joke.

The hunter rushed forward and pressed the gun to his chest, landing a hand on his shoulder. She leaned forward to whisper, "Careful, little boy. You don't want to tangle in my crosshairs."

"I'm not the one you should be worried about." He gripped her throat and squeezed.

In one move, she whipped her hand around and snatched his constricting fingers, twisting them until she heard a snap, fired a shot at his throat, then flung him away to land against the old wall. Old bricks flipped away, and she twirled around to aim her gun at the girls. Caroline hissed, and Elena crouched low, snarling.

The hunter sensed movement to her left, and within the midst of trees, three figures watched the scene.

One smelled of dog, but another smelled like earth and spices. The other had the same sickly sweet smell like Damon and the girls, so now she was surrounded by all kinds of creatures

The werewolf was in human form, and was tall and perfectly chiseled with black hair brushed back at the sides and front. Though he was standing on two feet, he had huge teeth, eyes that blazed like wildfire, and was shirtless. His partner that smelled of a spice cabinet was a witch with tremendous power, who stood with a lovely gossamer curtain of chocolate brown hair, and skin that reminded of the hunter of a cup of savory coffee, with twinkling hazelnut eyes.

The third person, a vampire no doubt, had the face of a romance novel character, flowing brown hair, and eyes the color of granny smith green apples dipped in caramel; but his eyes were clouded with red and his teeth showed, much like what Damon was doing as well.

Her situation was quite risky; one protocol she was forced to follow was to never fight or harm innocent people until proven guilty, not even when they attack her first, and aim to kill her; she was only allowed to put them in submission and then stay cloaked until her cover was clear. But to be surrounded by a wolf, a witch, and four vampires made her do a quick mental tab on the rules of her hunting.

Witches were considered sacred to Big Boss's company; they were hired to offer him protection to his staff and to his restricted library where he kept hidden secrets passed down from Boss to Boss. They were precious like jewels, and they were always treated like royalty when their services were needed.

Werewolves were vicious beasts, but Big Boss kept lots of trusted dogs to do his office bidding or even go on missions with other hunters as working partners, almost like they were a Special Forces that worked for an important political figure.

Vampires were especially loved for their speed and quick reflexes, and were the most common of bounty hunters and body guards. Some of them had guarded more than ten different Bosses because of their loyalty to the government.

To sum it all up, she had three steps to take: submit all witnesses, grab her intended target, and run like hell.

The witch was muttering a spell, and the hunter took a moment to cover her face with the bandana and shred her jacket as the wolf shifted into a beautiful tri-colored beast with big teeth and glowing amber eyes. Elena and Caroline also showed fangs, and Damon was watching her carefully, blood running down the side of his neck from the bullet.

The werewolf charged first, and the hunter spun towards the ground, lifting one foot to viciously kick the beast away, crouched, then ran for Damon. The romance-faced vampire followed suit, and grabbed her hair in a big fist. The hunter palmed his cheeks and flung her body up in the air to plant her feet on his massive shoulders. She twisted his head hard until she heard a loud _Snap!_ He slunk to the ground.

Elena grabbed her arm and tried to twist, but the hunter gave Elena's nose the heel of her palm, then snapped her neck before swinging a kick at Damon as he attempted to wrestle her to the dirt.

Using her supernatural strength, she swung her legs in an arc above her head, hands snatching Damon's shirt in both hands. A soft rip sounded in her ears, and Damon's shirt came clean off. Just as she landed, she hooked one arm around his chest and bulging arms, and, with her free hand, placed a tiny tracking device within his thick hair, right above his neck.

"Missed me," he said with a menacing tone.

"Wasn't aiming for your chest, smart one," she said, then smirked as she ducked a swing from Caroline behind her. Two more seconds passed, another sickening crack, and Caroline fell to the ground still as death.

Suddenly, a ring of fire surrounded her. The hunter looked up and found the witch gazing at her and muttering under her breath.

The wolf had jumped into the circle with her, and snatched at her legs. She crouched low, circling the beast.

"By the way, his bite is worse than his bark," Damon sneered.

But Damon didn't see the hunter's hand hidden behind her back, the same one with the silver plated glove still buckled to her hand. As the wolf charged, she did her favorite dodging move: the "death drop", a move that required the right sort of muscle movement. She buckled her knees, bent them out, and fell onto her back, and the wolf sailed ahead. She aimed the silver tipped claws at its belly, and the animal yelped and was still.

Damon had returned his shirt to his chest, and was carefully assessing her movements over the heat and flames of the ring of fire. He stopped in front of the witch, and just...stared back.

The hunter blinked. She didn't know if this was a trick, but he was looking at her as if she was a drink of refreshing, cool water on a hot day. Those hypnotizing eyes drank in all her features. She straightened from her defensive crouch and pulled her bandana down. Damon watched her do this simple act, but said nor did anything. He just stood.

And stared.

With a quick glance at her still unconscious target, she leapt over the ring of fire and snatched up her prey, then took off at maximum speed before disappearing into thicker trees.

* * *

~Jack called her an hour later as she was about to dig the silver-tipped claw into the wolf's chest.

"Ghost," she answered.

"Got into a bit of a mess, did we?" he said, completely amused.

She blew hair out of her eyes. "It could have been prevented. But our little doggy liked to mae a big impression," she replied.

"Much like yourself?"

"I do not draw attention for the awareness!" she snapped.

"Ummm...yeah you do. You don't recognize it, but...you're a bit of a show-off," Jack said, laughing.

He was so lucky she wasn't there to strangle him.

"Anyways, done with the wolf yet? I'm on my way to meet you," he continued.

"Give me a minute," she said, put the phone on the counter, then plunged her hand into the wolf, hearing a loud yelp even though the wolf was unconscious. Gripping the heart, she had to yank a few times to finally tear the still beating thing until it came clear of the wolf. She dumped the organ into a glass container and placed a lid over it. She held the phone to her ear again. "Okay, now it's done."

Silence on the other end.

Her neck hair stood on end. "Jack? Are you there?"

All she heard was a loud screech, a few curses, and a loud crash. Then silence.

Her heart lurched and she felt tears sting her eyes. "Jack!" she screamed. "Jack, what the hell was that?!"

She didn't even hear movement.

Fear gripped her. Jack was the only family she had left and she was sure as hell never to lose him. So, with the tracker in her phone, she quickly found Jack's truck and discovered it somewhere near West Virginia. She had little time and so much road to cover, but she was determined to get to him. So she closed up her storage unit, jumped on her bike, and roared down the streets, not caring for the stop lights or other on coming traffic; se just had to get to Jack.

She pushed her mph meter past the speed limit and found herself on a deserted highway. Only a mile ahead of her, flames licked the black sky, and smoke curled up.

Her bike screeched to a stop, and she stared at the flames, praying her beloved friend wasn't within the charred metal.


	5. What's the Plan?

~The boarding house of Mystic Falls, once a beautiful and lively place to drink tea and chat, as well as a place to go to bed with a belly full of food, was now a base camp for Mystic Falls' most well renowned people.

Damon and Stefan Salvatore limped through the door and Damon swore low.

"That little snitch is going to be a serious problem," he sneered, meaning the little hunter he encountered in the woods.

Stefan rubbed his neck and groaned. "How do you even know it was the same hunter you crossed with at the mansion?"

"Because she wore the same bandana over her face and I recognize her style of combat. She's obviously a dangerous assassin," Damon replied, going to the small wet bar next to his favorite drinking chair.

Stefan groaned and slunk into a couch cushion, sighing. "What is she doing here in the first place?"

Damon shrugged. "I don't know, Stefan, but I'm itching to find out, aren't you?" He smiled at his younger brother.

"Yes, which is why I think we should think of a plan to catch her and question her," he said.

"She's not an innocent vampire, Stefan! You saw how she took everyone out; she's going to cause us difficulty if we even try to lay a finger on her. She took us all out in less than a minute."

"You're over-exaggerating. She can't be that menacing," Stefan retorted.

"Okay, Stefan, if she's not so menacing then you go find out where she lives, knock on her door, and say, 'You're causing me and my brother trouble. So why don't you pack up your little bags and leave?'" Damon sat in his chair and sipped his whiskey, deep in thought.

"Real helpful, Damon." Stefan sat back. "So, if you know her so well, what would be your plan of action?"

"Capture the little bitch and ask her why she's sneaking around town," he answered briskly.

"Which leads me to ask: how are you going to catch her?" Stefan replied.

Damon told him.

Two hours later, Damon's blue Corvette was lazily cruising the streets of downtown.

"So, what vehicle does this 'friend' of yours drive?" Stefan asked, looking at his phone's GPS app.

"When I saw her at the mansion, she drove off in this little badass bike that's all chrome and black paint. It's pretty flashy," Damon answered. He watched every car and bike pass his car.

"If the bike is flashy, then she must be rolling in money. Let's ask Liz if she can give us records of anyone that fits her descriptions."

Sheriff Liz Forbes had her daughter's fine blonde hair, but she held her self with a stiff posture and a more stocky build than curvy Caroline, but it was obvious she had been a beauty queen in high school.

She was sitting behind her desk over papers when Damon strolled in with a big smirk on his face.

"Hey Liz, got a favor to ask of you," he purred in his usual bored but smooth tone.

"What is it this time, Damon?" she demanded, putting her pen down and folding her hands.

"There's this little problem that wears black around town, and she's becoming an issue," he said.

"Thank you for informing me, but what's the real reason you came?"

"We just need records of people who have lived here in the past few years that are known for flashy motorcycles," Stefan said before Damon could get anymore snarky than he already was.

Liz stood. "I'll see what I can dig up. Got a year estimate?"

The brothers looked at each other. They had no idea how old she could be. Neither brother had recognized her from the Civil War days, and they hadn't even known she lived in Mystic Falls until a few days ago.

"Umm...try the past twenty years?" Damon said.

Thirty minutes later, Liz shook her head. "Sorry, gentlemen. Nothing. Want me to back another ten years?" she suggested.

Stefan was about to say that it'd be nothing but a waste of time, but Damon nodded and said, "Try forty years."

They got one hit.

"She goes by the name Jane Doe. Her last few purchases have been a little strange, including a large storage unit on the outskirts of town and a brand new F150 Ford 4x4. Her last known address was 295 Mystic Ave...apartment number is #22."

Damon smirked as he wrote all of the information down.

* * *

~Her stomach was doing flips as she stared at the flames blackening everything in sight; not even the smell of her friend's leather coat gave away his exact spot.

"Nicholas? Where are you?" she shouted, kicking away what was left of the van's undercarriage.

The van had been flipped over to rest on its right side, and the sides of the van had been _ripped_ apart, like someone with supernatural strength looking for something inside the vehicle.

Slight movement in the van's back storage.

Without thinking, she rushed over and tore off the mangled van door and found a blonde head covered in blood.

"Nick! Talk to me, please!" she shouted, pulling him out onto the street away from the burning front seat.

She had never seen a human this bad before; and to Nick of all people! She felt a fresh new rage build up in her as she felt his pulse. So faint she couldn't even hear it...her lips draw back in a vampiric howl she hadn't done since her age-old loss...

Nick flinched under her hands and he coughed. "G...Ghost? It hurts..." he murmured. His broken and bloody hand reached for her face.

"Where? What hurts, Nickie...tell me and I'll fix it," she said, smoothing his hair. There was so much blood...

"Everything...I can't...I can't even feel my legs," he whispered.

Hot tears spilled over and she choked back more. She just couldn't lose Nick. He had helped her through her hard times and took more hits from her more than anyone else she knew. He was the reason she didn't lose her mind and drank away her long-time life.

Nick screamed a warning, and something grabbed her shoulder.

Her bodyguard instincts kicked into full gear, and she swung a heavy boot into her attacker's stomach and head butted his jugular's.

"Hey! Ghost! Quit it! Ow!"

She stopped her fighting and looked at the tall black man standing in the midst of smoke. He was so tall with broad shoulders he could break doorways, and his voice was so low that even she couldn't mimic the tone. He had the image of a howling wolf tattooed on his chest and his jeans and tank top were tight against his bulging muscles.

"Blood Paw? What in God's name are you doing here?" she shouted, kneeling next to her friend.

The werewolf stared back with sympathy. "I was sent here from where I was hunting. I heard the crash and came to investigate. I was also trying to find the person responsible after I saw someone running into the woods."

"Is someone from the Organization on the way?" she asked.

"Yes; they should be here any minute." He knelt next to Nick and touched his head. "Help is on the way friend."

"Thank...y...you..." Jack murmured before he lost consciousness.

The hunter was still holding him when help arrived. She leaned against the EMT van and watched Nick go in, strapped to a gurney. Witches and mortals scurried about, cleaning up the mess and questioned her and Blood Paw.

"Why would anyone attack a holding van?" she asked as soon as she was alone with Blood Paw.

The werewolf shrugged. "It's rare to find someone who knows the difference between a holding van and a mortal's vehicle."

She shook her head. "I want to be so angry right now...but all I care about is Nickie's safety." She rubbed her neck and groaned. "I'm so scared."

Blood Paw wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'll ride back with him and call you on his status. For now, just go home. I'll leave your number with my wife Lydia and she'll be your temporary Tracker until he gets better."

"I don't want Lydia. I want Nickie..." she muttered, and started to quietly sob.

"Aw, Ghost...look, as soon as he wakes up I'll have him call you. Will that make you feel better?"

She nodded and composed herself, wiping away her remaining tears. "I'm sorry. I know it's against protocol but..."

"But nothing. He's your Tracker and best friend. You're supposed to feel something for your partner in crime." After the witches and mortals packed everything into the van, Blood Paw climbed up and sat down next to Nick's gurney, talking to a witch.

She watched in fear as her wounded friend was carted away. The remains of the accident had been loaded onto another truck and left an hour ago, but she could still see Nick's bloody face burned into her memory, and felt stinging tears all the way back to Mystic Falls.

* * *

~Back home, in her small apartment, she threw her keys into a small dish and checked her phone.

A small purple light blinked, indicating her tracking device was on the move. She opened her BlackBerry and stared.

This "Damon" fellow was two blocks away...and driving right for her home!

She panicked. No one knew where she lived-except the Sheriff-and now she had this scorching, beautiful man driving right for her. She expected he wouldn't be alone, so she stripped her work outfit off and found a pair of torn black jeans and a dark green T-shirt that read, "Just Keep Walking." Throwing on her unlaced combat boots on and finding her black leather jacket, she hid two syringes of vervain and a stake at the small of her back, then ducked out into the main hallway of the apartment building.

The hallway was deserted, the only sound the slight thrum of the vending machine two doors down. The whole building was composed of maze-like hallways, with antique lights on iron lamp posts. She bolted towards a waist-high balcony over-looking the main courtyard, and ducked behind a side hallway leading to the laundry room.

And waited.

* * *

~"This is it," Damon said. Stefan stepped out and shifted, hiding the vervain grenade strapped to his belt.

"There!" he said, and pointed. Damon looked, and saw a black shadow dart across the landing towards the open courtyard.

Damon gave a signal, and ran for the wall, bound upwards in one graceful leap, and planted his feet against the iron railing, scanning the darkness for any signs of movement.

Stefan had jumped and landed next to him, being as silent as a predator, and indicated the direction he saw the shadow. They both ran until they stopped in front of the apartment they had been looking for.

"I don't hear anything," Damon whispered. Stefan nodded his head, confirming what Damon was thinking.

Both brothers ran farther down the hallway and stopped at a balcony rimmed with antique iron. Soft light glowed from lamp posts and a lovely fountain in the shape of a Hail Mary stood with elegance in the courtyard. Not even nocturnal creatures scampered across the fresh-mown grass.

"I swear I saw a sha-" Stefan began before he felt a jab in his neck.

Damon whirled and caught the hunter right as she was about to jab him with a lethal looking needle full of a yellowish liquid.

Damon threw her to the side and grabbed Stefan's grenade, pulled the pin, and watched as vervain went everywhere, showering him and scorching the face of the hunter.


	6. Captivity is a Bitch

~Vervain water hit her with a shower of sparks.

In the last moment, she covered her face but felt the cold, herb-laced water trickle on to her bare neck and waited for the sting.

Nothing happened.

She took a second to feel complete and utter surprise at the water slid harmlessly down her neck and soak her shirt. As part of her year-long training, she'd been taught the dangers and techniques people would use to subdue her or kill her, and she had been strictly warned about vervain; vervain was poisonous to vampires, though it didn't kill them. One drop of concentrated vervain could have her collapsing to the ground with no feel of muscles and brain activity, and it left her weak and vulnerable when she woke up. She herself laced her own meals with vervain to become accustomed to the feel, but it never stung her; it just felt warm when she drank it.

But now she was wondering how the hell this could be even remotely possible that a vampire could withstand vervain.

As Damon came for her, she ducked his swing at her jugular's a karate kicked his hip, swinging a fist towards his chest. He yelped and stumbled, but focused and charged again, this time lunging at her with bared teeth and blood-shot eyes.

Jumping back, the hunter jabbed two fingers into his cheek and swiped, drawing blood, then recoiled into a defensive position. He came forward again, and she repeated the process, only aiming for different sections of his upper torso.

For five long minutes this dance continued, and both fighters showed signs of weakening: Damon breathed hard and blinked around blood, the hunter feeling her muscles cramp and her head was pounding. Her enhanced senses told her that no one in the apartments had a clue about what was happening outside their doors as the two vampires released strength on each other.

After what seemed like another eternity, the hunter was starting to see a pattern.

Damon lunged forward to bruise a thigh or draw blood on her arm, but he never showed signs of actually dismembering or killing her.

And worst...he was backing her into a wall that overlooked the public parking lot. She couldn't jump or risk someone across the street at the Mystic Pub seeing her jump from two stories.

He wasn't doing it to maim her...

He was trying to trap her.

She had other alternatives for escape: one was to actually put a stake through his chest, but she had no orders to kill someone not on her target list.

Another was to risk being caught and live underground in Big Boss's offices, but she'd rather be tortured for a thousand years than sit at a desk for the rest of her life.

Wait...didn't she have another vervain syringe on her?

She did!

Feeling victory, she rolled on to a handstand and aimed both boots at his head, sending Damon reeling, while she grabbed her other syringe, advancing.

Then a white-hot pained seared her temples.

The pain was so intense and mind shattering that she actually fell to her knees and clutched her head, shouting curses in various languages, syringe forgotten and broken on the ground.

She had never felt anything like this pain before. It was hurting her physical being, but nothing she could think of was making it occur. It must have been a trap that Damon laid out, knowing he'd have the upper hand in this fight. It had to be some sort of otherworldly magic, because no matter how hard she tried to rub her temples and block out the pain, it rang across her head and wouldn't end.

The growing pain was so fierce that she lost her sight for just a moment, then everything went black as someone twisted her neck sharply.

* * *

~She woke to find herself secluded to a chair.

Her brain was full of cobwebs, and it felt like every nerve in her body was alive and thrumming with pain. She cautiously lifted her head and blinked, watching small dots dance in front of her line of sight. Lips chapped and bleeding, muscles tight, she forced herself to brush away the fogginess and focus.

She knew she'd been restrained after several attempts to move, and could only make a curled fist with her hands and move them up and down, but her wrists and arms had been strapped with leather quite tightly to a chair that was making her muscles ache.

As her body's senses came back, she found her arms weren't just tied down; her thighs, calves, stomach and lap were all secured tightly. She perceived the leather biting into bare flesh as she tried to move; all it did was dig deeper into her forearms.

Her feet were bare, her jacket missing, hair pulled back to a messy bun. Her skin was clammy and pale, and she had the feeling of weariness ride her body hard. But she forced her brain and body to work. And she took notice to everything around her.

She sat seated in an antique, wooden chair in a half-empty room, raised upon a low stage next to a giant window over-looking a green forest and a wide driveway with curved road that reminded her of her home country. A blue Corvette, a classic car the shade of bright red, a blue electric car, and a red Mini Cooper stood outside in the morning mist. It was a cloudy day, with a light mist blanketing the driveway and the forest beyond. A circle of stone kept three small trees and green grass, while farther off a beautiful antique well stood in a smaller circuit of grass. All in all, the gardening was beautifully cut and almost rustic, and she swore she could smell a hundred different flowers outside.

Something behind her moved, and she swiveled her head and found a triumphant Damon smiling at her.

"I was hoping we could get to know each other more," he sneered, a drink of what smelled like whiskey in one hand.

She snarled and bared long, sharp teeth.

"That's not very nice, little girl," he murmured.

She ignored him, and turned back to the window. The hunter opened her hearing, and heard more heartbeats around the house; three nearby in another room, two more outside somewhere, and two more upstairs. She whiffed humans, witch, vampires, and a werewolf. Her money was on the same people she had fought just the other day.

"Hey everyone! The freak show is awake!" Damon shouted.

All at once, the room filled with people, and she got her money's worth; the same vampires, werewolf and witch, only now there were two humans: one was golden haired with vivid blue eyes and a stocky build meant for football playing. The other was leaner with black hair falling in shanks across his forehead, but his face slightly resembled the brunette newborn-Elena, if she remembered correctly but he looked younger than the rest of the group.

All of them were looking at her with mixed emotions; anger, anxiety, curiosity, and even awe. No one said a word; just stared. And waited.

"Ready to talk?" Damon said, coming around to face her.

She looked him square in the face with her hunting expression; stoic, cold face with a tight mouth.

"Maybe someone should take a baseball bat to her head to see if she'll talk," the black-haired boy said.

"Sounds good if you want to knock her teeth out as well," the werewolf answered.

"Jeremy, why are you even here?" Elena asked.

The boy-Jeremy-spoke again. "Because she attacked my sister and her best friends." He made a move towards the hunter, but Elena stopped him.

"Why stop him, Elena? I'll fetch the bat for you, Jeremy," the werewolf suggested.

"Because if you hit me, you'll all pay dearly for it," the hunter finally murmured softly.

"I'm shaking," Damon snarled, then grabbed her chin in a strong grip, forcing her eyes up. "Who the hell do you work for?"

The hunter did the only thing that was insulting enough as a kick or punch: she spit in his face, across his whiskered cheeks.

The romance-faced vampire ran around her and grabbed her hair by the bun, yanking her head back to show her throat. Something sharp slid across her skin, opening her throat and a fountain of bright blood. Though spilling out her immortal life, she kept her eyes on Damon's, not uttering a sound, face still hard.

"Hurts, don't it?" Elena said with a white-hot fury as searing as the pain that had brought the hunter to her knees only the night before.

More blood stained her favorite shirt and torn jeans, and watched as more red dripped onto her bare toes. But she felt her skin repairing itself, the wound closing.

"I don't think that's good enough, Stefan. Let's open her wrists next," the werewolf said. He crossed his arms.

"Tyler, you're wrong. We should at least open her chest and break every rib in her body," Caroline gritted.

Everyone started to shout out tortures, all voices wanting to be heard. The hunter just stared at the far wall and thought of Nick, wondering if she was ever going to hear from him. Bloody Paw should have called her by now...wait, where was her phone?

Looking among the room and the faces, she noticed one of her captors was...staring evenly at her.

The witch was strangely relaxed, calm, almost serene, as if...as if she had something of the hunter.

"I suppose you want this," she said, and held out her chocolate-colored hand.

Her phone!

And it was ringing.

All the voices stopped.

She felt her façade break a little and leaned forward and stared in horror. It was a cacophony of barking dogs, telling her that Bloody Paw was trying to reach her.

"Who's calling you?" the witch said...very gently.

"Please..." she begged softly. "That's...that's a friend of mine. He needs me to talk to him. Let me talk to him real fast then I'll tell you whatever you want...please..." _Nickie...poor Nickie..._

The witch moved forward to answer the phone and hold it to her ear, but the romance-faced vampire Stefan snatched it from her and shook his head. "Bonnie, she's a skilled hunter, and she has a good poker face. Don't give her anything but pain until she talks, got it?"

Bonnie didn't respond; she was still watching the hunter.

Three hours had passed since then, and the hunter wished she could have screamed. They had subjected her to fiery and bloody tortures, and yet she held her tongue. She dared not tell anyone what she did or what she was, else she die or be behind a desk. No burning skin or open entrails was going to make her speak, not even when they heated the knife and slit her wrists and throat repeatedly.

When they had stopped and the sky turned black, they gave up trying to get her to talk, and left her alone. The quiet was peaceful and blissful, and everyone in the house either left for home or stayed upstairs in a room above her head. They had left her there, bleeding and hurting, while they fed themselves and went to sleep.

But they didn't know her...they didn't know she had trained and worked hard to be perfectly normal during captivity. Strangely enough, it was her first time being captured and questioned, and the situation was almost comical to her. She smiled a bloody grin and watched the tree line and curved driveway outside.

Lonesome and fearful for her friend, the hunter fell asleep thinking how she was going to ever see Nick again.


End file.
