"You have to paint all of the lilies white! Who's ever heard of a green lily? It's not even a lily!" Iris Fell gazed at the living room wall in sheer horror.
Imelda smeared paint on her cheek. "I'm not a painter! I'm a sketch artist, you loser!" Drawing the artwork was the easy part, painting everything in was proving to be where the twins fell apart, no pun intended.
"That's not the point." Iris rolled her eyes. "When have you ever seen a green lily?" She tapped her foot, her arms folded against her chest as blue eyes peered into hazel.
Imelda jerked her thumb to the drying paint. "Now, and there."
She received a painful slap to the side of her head and the new task of re-painting. With her head aching and a scowl adorning her lips, she ignored the doorbell ringing. If she had to re-paint, Iris could do everything else.
"Imelda! Get the door!" Iris shouted, her voice echoing from the kitchen where the scent of cookies wafted from.
"I'm re-doing your stupid lilies!" Imelda called back.
She loved snickerdoodles but she'd let them burn to get under her sister's skin. With a satisfied smirk she watched Iris stomp past her and answer the front door. Glancing to the left, Imelda grinned.
"Sup, Salvatore." Imelda greeted a smiling Stefan. "Care to help paint?"
Stefan smiled. "I'm not an artist, but I'd rather paint than do chemistry."
"Hopeless. The pair of you are hopeless." Iris threw her hands in the air. "Stefan, please do not let her paint the lilies anything other than white!"
"I'll paint them rainbow if you keep it up!" Imelda threatened. Iris gasped and Stefan pondered over a rainbow lily.
Imelda stood in front of the Salvatore Boarding home.
Memories swirled inside her head. It made her dizzy but she had somehow managed to make it through the night and into the next morning. She couldn't recall if she slept or if she had eaten anything. All she really knew was she clutched onto a shoe box and had no clue how to feel.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Imelda climbed the steps with heavy feet. The act of breathing left her breathless but no tears fell. Her heart hammed against her chest and her arm felt like a lead pipe as she knocked on the front door.
"Damon?" Imelda called. She knocked again, louder and more desperate. "Damon!" She screamed. The door was wrenched open with such force the wood creaked.
"What do you want?" Damon spat, his eyes dark and haunting. His anger simmered as he saw the horrible state Imelda Fell was in.
Imelda's body trembled but she remained standing. "Stefan." Her voice was scratchy, the effort it took to keep from sobbing was taking its toll on her.
"What did he do?" Damon breathed. He had seen the dead bodies, he was used to it. He never saw the aftermath, the victims his brother left behind. He never thought about it and he wished he wasn't forced to think about it now.
Imelda held the shoe box in between them. The weight was like a ton of bricks pulling her down. It was lifted as Damon took the box and opened it. She saw the emotions flicker in his eyes. She saw the hatred and grief, anger and confusion. She saw what she was beginning to feel.
Nothing.
"Come in." Damon closed the shoe box and retreated inside. He heard her follow, closing the door gently and following him into the den.
Imelda didn't sit nor did she take the offered drink. She stood in front of the fireplace, watching the wood burn and turn into ash. The flames were warm but she didn't feel any true warmth. She gnawed on her lower lip, blood filled her mouth but she ignored the metallic taste.
"They found Andie's body." Damon sat in his chair, glowering at where Stefan would sit. "It'll be a cold case." He took a sip of his bourbon.
"Mystic Falls is filled with cold cases." Imelda cleared her throat. "I didn't want to kill Stefan. I wanted to know why he killed Iris and why he took her body." She turned and sat, unknowingly into Stefan's seat.
"And now?" Damon urged, genuinely curious as to what she would do. "You got something to bury, beggars can't be choosers." He finished his drink but didn't move to get another one.
Imelda raked her fingers through her hair. "No, we can't be. But it's not keeping me from wanting more."
"He'll kill you." Damon scoffed. "You're in way over your head, Fell. You don't know who or what he's traveling with and what's he's willing to do for him."
Imelda shoved away her numbness and stood. "Maybe not, but I've come this far and I'm not going to back down. I won't ever stop until I know why Stefan killed my sister, a girl he called his friend."
Damon shook his head. "Well, Buffy." He stood and moved to the small bar to fix two drinks. He held one out to her, smirking as she took it this time around. He raised his glass, his smirk never wavering.
"To doing stupid things for siblings."
Imelda toasted, downing the burning alcohol quickly. Something had changed in a short amount of time. She had thought working with Damon would be a mistake. Now, she was glad, more glad than working with her history teacher.
"Where's Ric?" Imelda's eyebrows creased, letting Damon pour her another round.
Damon rolled his eyes. "Ric has checked out. He lost his girlfriend to a sacrifice."
"I have a feeling there's a story there." Imelda watched him nod. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" She held back a sigh as he winked. If she wanted to know what happened, she'd have to figure it out on her own. However, she didn't care so she wouldn't look into it.
"All you need to know, Buffy, is that when we find Stefan, don't engage with the guy he's with." Damon offered.
He polished off his drink, about to pour himself another one when his phone rang. With a roll of his eyes he pulled his phone out, watching as Imelda finished her drink and set the glass onto the table. She peered at the shoe box he had set on the coffee table.
"Damon Salvatore, currently hoping to drink his problems away, how may I help you?"
Imelda scoffed at how he answered his phone. Rather than eavesdrop, she flexed her fingers. She needed to do something with the box. She wouldn't bury it, it didn't belong in the ground all on it's own.
It also didn't belong in a shoe box in the home of the man who ripped it from her chest. If she hadn't ignored her Aunt the entire summer, she might've been able to keep it in the hospital. That wasn't the case and now, Imelda was left wondering just what exactly she should do.
"I've got a cooler down stairs." Damon's voice startled Imelda. "I'll keep it there until we've got the rest of your sister."
Imelda nodded. "You look rushed." She watched as he left his mini bar, joined her and snatched up the shoe box. He was gone in a blink of an eye and back again with another blink. He grinned, spinning his keys around.
"Care for a road trip, Buffy?" Damon wasn't offering, he gripped her elbow and led them from his house and his precious '69 Chevy camaro.
~~~~~
"I'm starting to think Tennessee just has it out for me." Imelda panted. She rested against a tree and wiped the sweat from her brow.
Damon rolled his eyes. "What happened to the badass vampire hunter that snuck into the farm house?" He passed her his flask. When she declined he shrugged and took a drink.
"I'm not a hunter." Imelda sighed. "I just learned enough to not die, not go on a hike." In hindsight, it should've been something she did learn.
"Well, hurry up and catch your breath." Damon put his flask up as she pushed herself from the tree. "Go over what we know about our wolf friends."
The trip to Tennessee had proved useful to Damon. He realized that Imelda was a great mind to keep around. She asked the right questions, knew when to shut up and even knew how to keep her opinions to herself.
"A pack live in these mountains. Tonight's a full moon, our best chance is to get Elena and get out of the woods before nightfall." Imelda was glad she left her leather jacket behind in the car. She tugged off her flannel and wrapped it around her waist.
Damon nodded. "Afterward, we get Stefan, if he's here." He pointed out, heading off to where he could distantly hear Ric and Elena talking. Damon had at least told Imelda that Elena was in love with Stefan and that's why she was being an idiot.
"What I don't get it is why couldn't she just ask for help?" Imelda didn't understand Elena. The only one Imelda could have asked for help would have been her Aunt but seeing as the woman was states away, it's why she never brought it up.
When push came to shove, Imelda agreed to help and so far, she was glad because she was having better luck in a span of a week than did she did in nearly two months. Imelda watched as Damon shrugged his shoulders. She had also realized why Damon was doing this, not just for Stefan.
Damon was in love with Elena.
It wasn't Imelda's place to say anything. She didn't really care about who loved who or how they loved them. She liked Damon well enough, something about his attitude of not caring but caring too much resonated with her.
"Stay here, Buffy." Damon ordered. Before Imelda could protest, he was gone, leaving behind his flask.
"I take it back." Imelda groaned, leaning down and snatching up the flask, unscrewing it and taking a drink. "I don't like him at all."
Imelda got a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was left in the woods alone, possibly two vampires running around, her history teacher turned ex-hunter, her stupid classmate and who knows how many werewolves just waiting to shift.
"I'm an idiot." Imelda muttered. She heard someone cry out. It was sharp and shrill and seemed to echo loudly.
Her instinct was to run and help whoever was screaming but common sense and hunting instinct told her to go the opposite way. She shoved the flask into her back pocket and removed the safety from her gun. Taking slow and easy steps, she headed toward the noise.
It cut off quickly, leaving her wondering what direction it had come from. She heard birds chirping off in the distance but other than that there was nothing else. With a glance the way she had come she carried forward.
Damon wanted to save Elena. Imelda wanted Stefan, she might not kill him but the idea of shooting him urged her forward. She kept her gun held at the ready and made sure to avoid as many sticks and making too much noise best she could.
Imelda wasn't certain how long she had been walking, she only knew that she was far from where Damon left her. Reaching a semi-break in the trees, Imelda came to a quick stop. To her horror she found a campsite, various people were sprawled all along the ground.
The sun was getting lower, the thick foliage making it seem darker than what it probably was. Imelda came to the first person she saw and crouched by them. Pressing two fingers to their throat she sighed as she felt their pulse.
"Are these the werewolves?" Imelda muttered, her stomach knotted at the notion. Why were they passed out? Wouldn't the moon's effects bother them even during the day?
"Now, that is quite an interesting question." An accented voice sounded from behind Imelda. "Put down the gun, Love. There's no need to fight."
Imelda stood and slowly turned to face who was speaking. "It wouldn't be much of a fight." Her heart hammered against her chest as her hazel eyes peered into blue-green.
"No, I suppose it wouldn't be." The man spoke, his lips curving upward into a smile. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "So tell me Love, what brings you to such dangerous woods?"
Imelda didn't speak right off. Her gaze darted around them as the werewolves groaned or grunted in their sleep. She looked back to the stranger. His dirty blonde hair looked more like wet straw in the near dead sunlight.
"I don't want any trouble." Imelda put her gun on safety and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans.
"I'm just looking for someone, maybe you've seen him or know him." She was willing to bet this was the man Stefan was traveling around with. Damon never said his name or why they were traveling, he just told her to avoid him.
The man's gaze flickered over her before he moved toward the center of the camp. He crouched down near the fire pit and picked up a lighter to make a fire. Remaining crouched by the fire he turned and beckoned her to him.
"And who has captured your interest?" He spoke simply and politely. Imelda joined him but kept her distance, she was only slightly stupid.
"Stefan Salvatore." Imelda watched the man offer a somber expression as he tossed more wood onto the fire. After a moment he stood, wiping the dirt from his hands.
"Tell me, Love, why do you want Stefan?" The man peered directly at her. "I can't imagine anyone willingly searching for him. He's annoyingly good."
Imelda scoffed. "Stefan Salvatore is not good." Her voice was bitter, catching the man off guard.
"Ah." The man nodded, moving forward and standing in front of her. "It's personal."
"Your damn right it's personal." Imelda didn't bother to hide the anger shimmering in her eyes but more than that, grief mingled with restlessness.
"Klaus Mikaelson." Klaus introduced, offering his hand and a gentle smile. "I must say, Love you're very brave for waltzing through the woods on the night of a full moon. Might I suggest you go home."
Imelda didn't take his hand. "Not until he tells me where my twin's body is." She met Klaus's gaze. He seemed taken aback by her response. His arm dropped to his side and he took a step back to fully look over her.
"Twins are very special things." Klaus grew somber. "They say when one dies, the other feels it. Did you?"
Imelda unconsciously brushed her fingers against the base of her neck. "Is he here?" Her question went unanswered as one of the wolves woke up. He was bleeding from his eyes, snarling and gagging all at once.
"What the hell?" Imelda stumbled backward just as her ankle was gripped and she was slammed onto the ground. She didn't waste a second, she brought her knees up and kicked the screaming man off of her.
"Bloody hell." Klaus spoke, moving quickly and jerking her up, he kept her at his side as the wolves that managed to stand collapsed. The night air was filled with screams and pleas of death.
"What's wrong with them?" Imelda was pale, her voice wavered as she found herself stepping further into Klaus. His hand was firmly on her arm, it seemed to ground her in that horrifying moment.
"They're dying." Klaus spoke somberly. "It's rather painful, I imagine."
"I don't think you need to imagine it." Imelda gulped. She watched them begin to convulse, blood spewing from their lips as they were unable to scream or cry out.
"We have to do something. W-we can't just leave them like this." She jerked away from Klaus and stepped forward.
"Pray tell, Love. Do you know how to kill werewolves?" Klaus was amused by her willingness to put strangers out of their misery. He was also intrigued.
Imelda faltered, gnawing on her lower lip she wished she'd stayed put as Damon told her. "Fire?" She pointed to the campfire but Klaus shook his head.
She threw her arms in the air. She didn't know what she was getting into, all she wanted was to find Stefan, now she was stuck trying to either save or put werewolves out of their misery. Imelda flexed her fingers and counted to ten.
"Stay by the fire, Love." Klaus spoke heavily.
He seemed troubled and Imelda knew enough to do as told and not piss off the troubled, whatever he was. She stood by the fire, pulling out her gun just in case. She stayed silent, watching Klaus use a hatchet he found in the camping gear and went about killing them.
When they were dead, by whatever happened or Klaus's hand, he dug into a cooler and pulled out a single beer and tore the cap off. Imelda put her gun away and pulled out the flask and uncapped it. Before Klaus could drink from his beer she held out the metal flask.
Klaus peered at her, glancing to the flask before taking it slowly. "Is there vervain in this?" He knew there wasn't, he would have smelled it.
"I drink vervain but there isn't any in that." Imelda assured him. "I've never heard of werewolves just dying on a full moon."
Klaus chuckled darkly and took a sip from the flask. "That's because it isn't supposed to happen." His voice was bitter as he passed her the flask and peered into the fire, drinking his beer.
"I made Stefan kill your twin. I would say had I known she had a twin, I wouldn't have but I'm not in the business of lying. I'm too old and far too tired for that sort of game."
Klaus looked down to the auburn haired girl. She peered into the fire before drinking from the flask and dropping it onto the ground. She kept silent and he wondered what was going through her mind.
She retreated to the cooler he had found and grabbed a can of beer rather than a bottle. She popped it open and joined him, watching the flames and drinking. No words were exchanged but something had shifted in the air in between them.
Tears fell from Imelda's eyes. In a blind rage she threw a can of beer into the fire and tackled Klaus. She punched him with all of her might. She screamed incoherently, punching as hard as she could.
Imelda's body was jerked from Klaus, she was sent sailing through the air and her back crashed against the ground. She didn't get up, she just laid there, her ears rang and her vision blurred. The last thing she saw or even heard was Iris Fell screaming.