Vampire Diaries 1. Whispers

**"Dies Irae" by RaindanceMaggie**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: **I do not own The Vampire Diaries.**

**Summary: Audrey Morgenstern, once called Aude, was the wife of Klaus not long after he was turned. This is her story.**

**A/N: This chapter contains strong language and graphic violence. If you are opposed to either of the two, I suggest you stop reading here.**

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><p><strong><em>Part I: Ab Initio Usque In Finem (After The Beginning of the End)<em>**

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><p>I watched the brown liquor swirl around in the water-stained glass. It was powerless, like me, constantly subject to the will of others. I sighed, tossing a few peanuts into my mouth before downing the Jack Daniels all at once. That earned me an eyebrow raise from the bartender.<p>

I snorted, "What?" I was not enjoying his surprised expression, "The peanuts are dry as hell." He just shook his head and went back to mixing some kind of fruity drink for the prostitute at the opposite end of the bar. "Can I get another?" I asked with a fake smile plastered on my face.

The bartender put a strawberry on the side of the prostitute's glass, completely ignoring me. He took the drink to her, and the prostitute made sure to lean over the bar to pat his hand while she thanked him. He looked straight down her deep red, barely-there dress. Disgusting. A sweet smell leaked through the air, almost like gasoline mixed with cotton candy. The man's lust was intoxicating, and not in a good way.

This was one of those times that I really hated my 'gift.' Yeah, I'll admit having the True Sight is useful when I have to work with new people, but after almost a millennium of putting up with it, it's just a bitch. It's not like mind reading, which would be very awesome; it's more like a sixth sense. Sometimes it's a smell; sometimes it's just a feeling. Hell, I even saw someone's aura once; that was freaky.

Instead of making my gift weaker, alcohol actually makes me more perceptive, which was what I needed to be. An old acquaintance of mine had left me a voicemail a few hours ago, telling me that he could use a hand. I would call Alaric Saltzman a 'friend' of mine, but the last time I saw him, he shot me in the leg; hence him being under 'Asshole' in my contacts list.

"Jack?" The bartender asked expectantly.

"Yeah." I stared up at the ceiling while I waited. I wasn't even tipsy yet and I'd already gone through three rounds. Ridiculous. I drained the glass less than five seconds after he sat it down in front of me.

"High tolerance?" The aggressive voice came from my left. I turned to look at the man who'd spoken. He appeared to be maybe two or three years older than I did, with cropped brown hair so dark that it was almost black. The man had an obvious five o'clock shadow beneath thin, pale pink lips. His hands were what drew my attention; dirty, ragged nails that were very sharp. He smiled.

Technically, it was more of a bearing of teeth. Stupid werewolf territorialism. I was on his turf and he didn't like that one bit. I looked deep into his deep blue eyes, tilting my head to the side. His irises flared with a light that was akin to a flame. "Not really." I said, referring to the man rather than the alcohol. I smiled, waiting for his response. He knew exactly what I meant and judging by his death grip on the bar, he wanted to rip me in half. We both knew he could do it, but the dog wouldn't risk exposure.

The werewolf smiled again, wider this time. I took that as my cue to leave. I stood, making sure that he saw the flash of my dagger when I straightened my jacket. "Leaving so soon?" He asked as I began to walk away.

I turned around still walking backward, "You know. Places to go, people to…" I drew my finger across my throat like a knife as I walked out the door.

I went straight to my car, knowing better than to bait the werewolves any more than I already had. I would be able to hold my own against one werewolf, maybe two...but a pack of werewolves was a whole different story. Even after so many years had passed, the creatures still struck fear into my very core.

I glanced in my rear view mirror as I put my Audi into reverse. I flinched at what I saw; a quick glimpse at my true self before I pushed the image to the back of my brain and focused on not wrecking into any of the other vehicles.

When any person who does not possess the True Sight looks into the mirror, they see their reflection. When I look into the mirror I see my soul. If I were a good person who repented for my sins, maybe I wouldn't see a horrible, rotting ugly thing staring back at me in the mirror. I don't regret anything that I've done; all of my sins, except for sex, have been for the right reasons. Murder, theft, hate, violence against others, cursing…you name it I've done it.

"Dorian?" I asked, glancing around when I entered Trinity, the occult shop that Dorian runs. It had changed since the last time I'd dropped by. The previously red walls were now black, lined with a red string of lights at the top of the ceiling. He'd apparently purchased an antique cash register. Weird.

"I'm in the back Audrey!" He yelled. It was practically a roar. Uh oh. Dorian the man-witch was pissed. Great.

I parted the black and red beaded curtain and followed his voice. I snorted at the sight that greeted me when I reached Dorian's office. His desk was covered in papers and Dorian was covered in something else. The disgusting black and gray substance was all over his clothes and his face. "Do I want to know what that is?" I asked cautiously.

"Courtesy of the local shapeshifter. I try to do the guy a favor and what does he do? Turns into a fucking panther and almost tears my face off!" He threw everything off of his desk in a fury, "I had to jump into the fucking swamp to get away from that son of a bitch! Oh! And then, I lost my fucking wallet!" He hit the wall with his fist. "Shit!"

I raised my eyebrows, "You wanna try to add another curse in there, sailor?" He glared at me before taking a few deep breaths, starting to calm down. "So, why exactly were you helping a shapeshifter?"

"He was the only lead I had on Riley." The air changed, sparking with Dorian's fear. Dorian was powerful, but not nearly as powerful as Riley.

"Riley's missing?" My jaw practically dropped to the floor, "I take back the sailor comment; we are so fucked." Riley Murdock was the keeper of the peace here in Atlanta and was one of the most respected and oldest witches that I knew of. He was born with his powers, which made him an extremely formidable enemy, unlike most of the witches nowadays, who were sharing blood with demons right and left (like Dorian).

My fear merged with Dorian's. If something was powerful enough to take Riley… There was no saying what whoever it was could be capable of. "Mm hmm." Dorian agreed while he removed his shirt, shoving the mud covered garment onto the floor before crossing the room to remove a towel from the closet, "I'll take care of this. You go to Mystic Falls, give Rick a hand…God knows he needs it."

I frowned, confused. Alaric had gone behind my back to ask Dorian to plead his case to me? That was odd. "Mystic Falls?" I raised my eyebrows, "What the hell kind of a name for a town is that?"

Dorian continued as he tried in vain to scrub all of the mud from his hair, "Hell if I know…It's some little backwoods town in Virginia filled to the brim with vampires." Throwing the ruined towel to the floor beside his shirt, Dorian gave me his full attention. "You should feed before you leave."

"Wait! Who said I was going?"

"I did." He smiled grimly, "Because I'm your boss and that's my job." There was an unspoken challenge in his words. If I defied Dorian, I would lose his protection; without that, I would be at the top of every Fae hit-list in the world. Dorian clapped me on the shoulder, breaking the tension between us, "Stop by Bree's before you head out. I'm sure there's some unlucky guy in there that'll be begging you for it in a matter of seconds."

And so, within the next hour, I found myself in another bar. "You gonna play with that or you gonna drink it?" I looked up to see the bartender watching me with one eyebrow raised, clearly amused. He was a balding man in his mid-forties covered in colorful tattoos.

I glared up at him, "What do you care as long as I pay for it?" He held up his hands in a so-sue-me gesture and chuckled before attending to his other customers. I sighed, raising the glass to my lips and hesitating for a moment before taking a drink. I used to flinch at the taste, but I was so used to it now that I downed it like water. "Bree was so much more fun…" I trailed off, thinking of happier days when the witch was still alive. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her, even though she did deserve what she got, or at least that's what I understood from the stories. Apparently she'd ratted out a vampire to another one that wanted to kill him.

I had just set the glass back onto the counter when out of the corner of my eye I saw a man take a seat on the bar stool beside me. I could feel his eyes on me. There was a time when I would've had a nice conversation with a man that only wanted to take me to bed. I wasn't in the mood. Especially not tonight. I was going to have to eat and run if I wanted to make it to Mystic Falls by the next morning.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R please. Feedback is greatly appreciated. <strong>


	2. Welcome Back to Mystic Falls

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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><p><em><strong>Part I: Ab Initio Usque In Finem (After The Beginning of the End)<strong>_

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><p>"What are you drinking?" The man asked in a deep yet pleasant voice. I looked over. The man that was hitting on me was about my height and nicely built. His hair was blond, combed perfectly so that one lock fell over his forehead. His dark brown eyes raked over me, giving me a more thorough once over now that I was facing him. I returned the once over; it was only fair.<p>

I sighed, looking to my empty glass, "Bourbon."

He raised his eyebrows a bit at my response and called, "Andy! Another bourbon and a scotch."

"Sure thing." The bartender responded, looking up from the pretty redheaded slut he was talking to at the other end of the bar.

The man turned to me, "What's your name?"

"Audrey."

"I'm Greg." Greg held out his hand for me to shake.

"I know." I didn't take it. The bartender replaced my empty glass with fresh bourbon and slid a glass of scotch in front of Greg. Just as Andy the bartender was leaving, I said, "Leave the bottle."

"You sure?" Andy asked hesitantly.

"Just leave the damn bottle." I growled, sliding a fifty-dollar bill across the bar. It had been too long. I wasn't in the mood to take this slowly. "Keep the change." Andy the bartender shook his head but put the half full bottle in front of me.

"So, are you from around here, Audrey?" Greg asked, trying to sound curious but he came across as creepy.

I turned so that I was completely facing him, "No, I'm not. Are you?"

"I—I, uh—"Greg looked straight into my eyes. I stared straight back, unflinching, tilting my head slightly to get a better look at him. Greg blinked a few times, "Sorry, um, no I'm not… from around here." I needed to tone it down; the poor guy was a bit overwhelmed.

The little voice inside of his head was screaming that I was the predator and he was the prey. I needed him to ignore that voice… I smiled a bit and took another drink, this time from the bottle, abandoning my glass; so far, so good. "Do you have any family, Greg?" I crossed my legs, making sure he watched when my shirt slid up just a bit.

"Family?" He took a huge gulp of scotch, downing it in one swallow, "No."

I leaned forward a bit, "You must be a very lonely man, Greg…"

He dragged his gaze from my chest up to my face, "Very."

"Would you like to leave?" I smiled a bit, trying to seem suggestive.

"Hell yes. Let's go." He grabbed my hand, all too enthused and pulled me off the barstool. I made sure to have the bottle of bourbon in hand before he practically dragged me out of the door.

I let Greg drive his flashy sports car five miles before I smiled seductively at him and unbuckled my seatbelt.

He laughed, half nervous, half anxious, "What're you doing?"

I winked at him and climbed into the back seat, "Why don't you pull over so you can find out?" I clenched my jaw while Greg pulled the car slowly to a stop near some trees at the shoulder of the road. I took a quick swig of the bourbon; I was going to need it.

Greg unbuckled with fumbling hands and climbed clumsily into the back seat. He kissed me. It only took a few moments for me to realize that Greg was not a very good kisser. Ugh. I could barely keep myself from gagging when he nearly shoved his tongue down my throat in a sorry attempt to French kiss me. I maneuvered his face down to my neck; I couldn't bear the sloppiness. His hands traveled down my back, reaching for the hem of my shirt. He stopped suddenly; his hands had found the lump just below my shirt.

I waited while Greg, confused, lifted my shirt just a bit and grabbed a hold of the metal handle of the dagger that was sticking out of my belt. There was a hiss as the blade slid free from its sheath. Greg stared at it in disbelief.

"What's this for?" He asked, a bit nervous.

I smiled as a mother would to a mischievous child; Greg had the handle of the knife facing me with the blade pointed straight at his chest. Idiot. "It's for you." I said seriously, grabbing his hand on the knife in an iron grip and shoved the knife into his chest. The stainless steel slid into his skin like butter; it was the chest plate that was tough.

Blood didn't gush out of the wound like it did in the movies. It came at a slow, steady pace, as the knife was still in Greg's chest. That was how I left him; slumped in the back seat of his car with a knife sticking out of his chest.

_Stupid Rick. This was all his fault._

I heaved myself out of the car, easing down to sit down near the rear wheel. The future corpse in the back seat was still breathing; this was going to take a while… It usually did. The longer it takes for one of my victims to die, the more I gain from the feed.

Everything has energy; life and death. It's just that I'm a closer relation to the second. A descendant of Death Himself, with the power of the True Sight that all of his children are said to possess, both qualities make me a threat to almost every species on Earth; the Fae are especially aversive toward my kind.

I groaned and taking another drink. I turned back to the car and swung the door open. "You dead yet?" I could still hear wet, raspy breaths coming from Greg. "No? Here, let me help." His eyes widened when I grabbed a hold of him and dragged him out of the car. He thudded roughly onto the ground. I grabbed a hold of the knife, still stuck in his chest and shoved it in deeper, to the hilt. I twisted. Greg screamed when I pulled the knife out, a piercing scream of pure pain. This was taking too long… I crouched so that I was at the top of his head and swiped the blade across his neck, digging it into his flesh, flaying open his carotid artery and jugular in the same motion. Blood pulsed and sprayed out from the wound, creating a crimson necklace across his all too perfect skin. I leaned back to avoid the potential arterial spray and said, "Hurry up and die. I have better things to do than wait around on you all night." I kicked him in the side for good measure.

I watched the stars until there was silence. There was a pause after his heart beat for the final time, a futile attempt to keep Greg alive…And then I was flooded with raw energy, as if I'd just stuck my finger into a light socket.

I got to my feet, stretching as the energy sparked out to my limbs before giving the now-dead Greg a glance; I was going to have to get back to my car at Bree's somehow, and I had absolutely no intention of walking… "Mind if I borrow your car?" I knew he wouldn't answer, but at least I could say I asked. "I'll take that as a yes."

Seven hours later, I was standing on my former pupil's porch, having an odd feeling of Déjà vu while ringing the tiny doorbell for all it was worth, yelling, "Rick! I've decided after a long internal debate to grace you with my—" The door swung open to reveal a bedraggled Alaric Saltzman, looking the same as he had three years ago… "…presence."

He groaned, "It's too early for sarcasm. I need coffee."

I glanced around outside, brushing off the strange familiar feeling as I followed him into a quaint little kitchen that was decorated with simple granite counter-tops and oak furnishings, "Would you like to tell me why I'm here?"

"Dorian didn't say?" He sounded surprised as he switched on the coffee machine; the tiny clock read five oh-nine.

"All I got out of him was 'Mystic Falls. Vampires. Go. Or else…" I sighed leaning up against the island in the middle of the kitchen, "He was big on the cryptic. Speaking of, so were you in your message."

"Yeah." Rick took a breath, looking a bit green.

That got my attention. Standing before me was a man that could pummel a vampire's head in with a tire iron and crack a joke a few seconds later. I hadn't seem Alaric Saltzman look like this since he'd found out that everything his wife had been researching was real… "What aren't you telling me? I mean besides _everything_."

"Look—"

I took a menacing step toward him, "Rick, I'm not in the best of moods; apparently patience doesn't come with age." I grabbed him lightly by the throat, waiting for the excuse to crush his windpipe. "The last guy that pissed me off ended up in his own trunk, so I suggest you tell me everything. Now."

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><p><strong>R&amp;R please. Feedback is greatly appreciated. <strong>


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Vampire Diaries, Romance, Supernatural