𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓
﹙ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ﹚
࿐ ࿔ ✧˖*°
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Rory thinks she can grow to love New Orleans just because there's music everywhere she goes. As soon as she steps out of her apartment complex, her ears fill with jazzy tunes played by talented musicians. There's laughter and cheerfulness and everyone seems happy. It's an incredible step up from where she used to stay. She remembers what she used to think every time she woke up out of a sleep and started her day. This town will kill me one day. And it did. Mystic Falls killed her and everybody she loved, and now she finally has the chance to escape.
Dean is still in a deep sleep despite it being 11am, the man having spent his time unpacking the rest of the boxes that Rory and Sam were too lazy to do. Because of that, only the younger of the two Wessons was accompanying her to the record shop down the street. Dean and Sam had a thing for vinyl, simply because Sam bought a record player off Amazon a few months ago and he refused to let it go ever since. Dean was just an old soul.
"There's a guy that used to stay here. Apparently, he was in charge of the vampire community," Sam mutters as he walks alongside Rory, the shorter of the two sipping on an iced coffee in her hand. "Marcel Gerard. I asked around yesterday, but no one's been giving me anything besides a few sus side-eyes. It's either he's dead, or I might have been wrong about the vampires here."
"Maybe he just doesn't want to be found?" Rory inquires as she enters the record shop, Sam following behind her. "Maybe he's just in hiding. If he really is a vampire, then I don't think he'd want it to be public knowledge. This isn't Mystic Falls, Sam—I'm pretty sure the vampires want to keep it lowkey that they're vampires."
"But I don't get it. The people I talked to spoke about him like he was their saviour or something. Like a king," Sam argues as he trails behind Rory. "I don't think that kings can just disappear like that."
"Well, we're not in the 18th century anymore, sweet cheeks. And you know how I feel about the monarchy," Rory rolls her eyes as she stops in front of a David Bowie vinyl. "You're right—kings can't just disappear, but they should. How many records are our limit again?"
"Three. You overbought the last time and we're barely putting up the shelves as is," Sam responds. He looks disappointed as he regards the albums in front of him, barely paying attention to the people that have just entered the store. "The only reason I suggested New Orleans is because of Marcel. If he's really not here, then maybe—"
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear," an unfamiliar voice speaks up from beside them. Rory and Sam both turn to the male that stands before them, and his nametag reads Joe. "You two are looking for Marcel Gerard?"
"Yeah," Sam speaks up before Rory has a chance to. "Yeah, we are. Do you know him?"
"You two are..." Joe's voice lowers precariously. "Vampires?"
Rory raises an eyebrow in question as she registers the fright in the man's face. When she perks up her ears, she realises that Joe doesn't have a pulse either. This man was a vampire, just like she and Sam were, but for some reason he looked positively terrified to even be mentioning the word. Like it was forbidden or something.
"And so are you," Rory states.
Joe nods, a little insecurely. "Listen, this ain't the town for vampires anymore," he shakes his head. "Ever since the Mikaelsons came back to town—"
"The Mikaelsons?" Rory interjects.
"Who are the Mikaelsons?" Sam asks, confused.
"They're..." Joe's sentence trails off like white noise as Rory registers the name that fell out of Joe's lips. The Mikaelsons. Klaus, Rebekah, Elijah. The Originals were in New Orleans? "... since the hybrid lost his daughter, the town's been in disarray."
"Daughter?" Rory interrupts. Joe turns to face her. "Klaus has a daughter?"
Joe gives her a suspicious look upon realising that she speaks the Original's name with familiarity. Despite that, he nods. "Had. A little baby girl, Hope. She... died," Joe looks down at his hands in a forlorn fashion. "Since then, the werewolves have been running the Quarter ever since. It used to be us, the vampires. Marcel was our leader; he's been banished across the river."
"Banished," Sam repeats. "This sounds all too medieval to me."
"You don't even know the half of it. Those Mikaelsons are old age, kid. They've been alive for thousands of years. They're the first vampires. When they heard that Marcel was in power in the city they built, they weren't too happy. Took over within weeks. Since then, it's been pandemonium. But it all changed when the witches tried to take the reign and that little baby girl got sacrificed. We're at the bottom of the food chain now, thanks to them," Joe explains.
"You're awfully open for someone that's supposedly not even allowed in the Quarter," Rory comments.
Joe shakes his head. "It's because y'all mentioned Marcel. He said that the only reason that he came to this city was to see him, right?" Joe gestures to Sam. Sam nods in response. "The people you spoke to weren't lying. Marcel was a good king. He's still around, just not here. If you want to see him, you gotta find him—he's still recruiting, you know. We could use more vampires... most of them got killed. It's not often we have Daywalkers."
Joe gestures towards the daylight ring on Sam's finger. Rory remembers the struggle it took for her to find a witch that was willing to help Sam—believe it or not, not all witches were as good with vampires as Bonnie Bennett—and the amount of times she passed out from aneurysms due to them not wanting to get involved.
"Okay," Rory gives him a smile, which he returns. "Thanks, Joe. We'll... we'll be in touch."
Joe tips his head, making his way back to the cashier counter. Rory turns to face Sam, who looks at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "So... you want to tell me how you know thousand-year-old vampires?" he inquires. Rory immediately purses her lips, averting her gaze back to the shelves in a faux interested manner. "Rory, I saw the way you stiffened up when that guy mentioned the Mikaelsons. Your heart skipped a beat. That Klaus guy... you know him, don't you?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Sam," Rory sighs.
"You're hiding things. You've been hiding all along. You barely tell Dean anything and he's your boyfriend," Sam argues. "If you're going to be part of our family, you can't just shut us out like this, Rory."
"The two of you keep secrets from me too!" Rory exclaims. "I barely know anything about your family."
"That's not fair," Sam states.
"How is it not fair?" Rory questions. "Whenever I ask about your parents and your family, you shut me down. Whenever you ask me about my family, I do the same. All three of us have skeletons in our closets, Sam. But some of them are bigger than others," Rory shakes her head, pushing past him. "You're right, I do know the Mikaelsons, and I do know Klaus. But our history is long and complicated and it's just a can of worms that I don't want to open right now."
"The three of us are living together now, Rory. We're going to be staying in the same home and if you're bringing home danger then at least I'd like to know,"
"Sam, we've been on the road together for two years. I think if I was going to bring danger along, I would've," Rory tries to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. The only reason that they were safe is because Rory strayed far, far away from any mentions of Originals and Mystic Falls. Now, she was in the same city as them. She could only pray none of them knew she was here. "Klaus and I had a past. It's over now. He probably forgot me already; I'm just a passing face to him."
Sam sighs, pushing his hands into his pocket. "Fine," he gives in. "I'm... trusting you on this," he says. Rory nods in a satisfied manner, continuing to browse through the shelves. "I think I'm going to find Marcel."
Rory looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?" she asks. "How do you know if you can trust him? All you know so far is he-said-she-said."
"And so far, everything's been pretty good. Nothing about him being cruel or a tyrant. I just... I just want to belong somewhere," Sam frowns at the floor. Rory feels for him, she really does. Since Sam and Dean were younger kids, they never had a home. They were constantly on the move, hunting monsters under other people's beds. When their father died, their sense of identity went out the window. They still didn't know who they were and where they belonged to. Sam and Dean weren't like Rory—they didn't grow up with a loving family. They grew up with a dad that had abusive tendencies and spent their lifetime protecting people from things they feared too.
Rory sighs. "Okay," she says. Sam looks up at her. "Okay, we'll see this Marcel guy. Because there's no way I'm letting you go and find him alone. Number one rule is to not trust anybody, no matter what. And it's not just paranoia, okay? Everyone has ulterior motives, especially the supernatural."
Sam gives her a beaming smile. "Thanks, Rory,"
"Sure," Rory rolls her eyes in a playful manner, socking his shoulder. She brushes past him, three vinyl records in her hands as she makes her way to the counter to pay. Just as she approaches Joe, the door opens and a large, blonde man steps inside. She's immediately overwhelmed by the smell of wet fur. Werewolf. She takes a step back, holding a protective arm out in front of Sam.
The man, however, doesn't spare her a single glance. He turns to face a young brunette girl that Rory didn't even realise was there in the first place. "Hey there, cutie," he greets her, but the young girl doesn't look impressed at all. Rory wouldn't either. In fact, she'd be creeped out—this guy looked like he was three times her age.
"Don't call me that," the girls responds snippily.
The werewolf ignores her comment, plucking the vinyl out of her hands to examine it. "So, I heard that you ditched your coven—" Coven? This girl was a witch? "—That's too bad. The other Harvest girl, Cassie? She has been super helpful to all us wolves."
"She's making you moonlight rings, Oliver. I wouldn't call that helpful, I'd call that an alliance,"
"Well, you can call it whatever you want. As long as we don't have to turn on the full moon anymore, it works for me," Oliver leans closer to the teenage girl. "Look, I'd take off if I were you. Things are about to get real ugly in here," he turns to face the occupants in the store, exclaiming. "Hey, y'all. The store's closed. Out, now!"
"Rory," Sam whispers to her, tugging on her hand.
"No," Rory frowns, shaking her head. That little girl could get hurt, and so could Joe. Judging by the way Oliver stands with an air of self-importance and all-around cocky attitude, he doesn't mean well.
"It's Joe Dalton, right? You see, I've been studying up on this store. It's been a staple of the Quarter for ninety years... it was run by you, your daddy, and then his daddy before him?" Oliver inquires, tilting his head. Rory's eyes flicker to Joe, who shifts nervously. Vaguely, she remembers that he mentioned that vampires weren't in control of the Quarter anymore.
"That's right," Joe responds anxiously.
"Yeah, you see, Joe... there just ain't many photos of anyone in your family but you," Oliver smirks.
The girl immediately straightens up. "Oliver, no!" she exclaims.
Joe rushes for the door, but he's blocked by two werewolves. He turns to face Oliver, desperation clear in his face. "Sam, go," Rory whispers to him. "Out the back door, go now."
"What about you?" Sam frowns.
"I'll be fine,"
"Those are werewolves, Rory—"
"—I know what they are, I can smell them," Rory responds irritably. "I can't leave Joe and I won't leave that little girl. Go out the back door, I'll be fine. I promise," Rory squeezes Sam's hand. Her eyes turn to face the front of the store, where Oliver has finally realised her presence. "Sam, go!"
Sam immediately rushes out of the back door as Oliver strides towards her. "What's this?" he tuts. "Another bloodsucker, huh? You're a new face," he leans in close, and Rory flinches away. She's reminded that he can easily kill her with just one bite. "Leeches ain't allowed in the Quarter anymore, little girl."
"Don't you have anything better to do besides bullying teenagers?" Rory spits. Oliver leans back, raising an eyebrow.
"You ain't a teenager. How old are you really? 100? 300?"
"I'm offended. I just turned 19," Rory states, before whipping the vinyl records she had in her hand across Oliver's face. He lets out a roar of pain as scratches open up on his cheek, bleeding profusely. Rory slams her fist against his face hard enough to knock him out, but before his two werewolf buddies could run at her, the witch from before holds her hand out to give them both aneurysms.
"Joe, go!" the teenager exclaims.
Joe immediately rushes out of the store. With a flick of the girl's wrist, both werewolves fall unconscious. Rory brushes her hand out of her face, holding the vinyl records against her chest. "Cool," Rory smiles at her the warmest she could muster. "I had a witch friend, too."
The teenager regards her with uncertainty. "Thanks," she says.
"I'm Rory," she walks towards the teenager, intending to shake her hand, but she flinches away. Rory stops in her tracks. "Sorry, that was a bit forward considering..." Rory trails off, gesturing towards the unconscious bodies. "I'm sorry, I just noticed that he was being a huge douchebag. I know I'm a vampire and everything, but I won't hurt you. I promise, I have nothing against witches."
"Davina," she offers shyly. "Thanks. For... you know."
"Of course," Rory smiles at her, pulling out a few dollar bills to place on the abandoned cashier counter. She holds the records against her chest as she flips the open sign to closed. "I'm new to the city, and I figured that I could use some friends. Besides, us girls have got to stick together, right?"
"Yeah," Davina gives her a smile, beautiful and big. "Yeah, we do."
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As soon as Rory arrives home, Sam immediately launches himself at her to envelope her into a hug. He lets out a sigh of relief as Rory lets out a muffled sound against his chest, patting his back the best she can with her arms being forced against her sides. When Sam pulls away, Dean replaces him, cupping Rory's cheeks to examine her for any damage—not that she could have any, anyway.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean demands. "Walking into danger like that? Those are werewolves, Rory. There isn't a cure for werewolf bites! You could've died!"
Yes, there is, and he's in the city with us, Rory wants to say, but she only returns his look of irritation with a large smile. "Relax, Dean. I'm here, aren't I? A witch saved me," Rory places the records on the table, shrugging off her jacket. "You have too little faith in me. I know how to protect myself."
"It's not that I don't have faith in you, it's just that you kind of throw yourself headfirst into dangerous situations and it really bugs me out," Dean frowns. "What if something happened to you and you got really hurt, huh?"
"I'm fine, Dean. I really promise," Rory kisses him quickly, turning to face Sam. "Did you manage to find anymore information about that Marcel guy while I was gone?"
"Uh, no, not besides what Joe told us. I'm going to go see him tomorrow, though,"
"We're going to see him," Rory corrects, pointing a finger at him. "You know I'm not letting you do this on your own. You're a strong, independent woman... until it comes to talk about vampires. Then, you're going to have to let me take the reins."
"You're not exactly an old vampire, you know?" Sam asks.
"I know. But I know enough about what not to do when you're dealing with other vampires, which is not picking fights. And with your mouth, you're going to need all the filtering you can get," Rory turns to face him. "I have to mansplain your desire to join Marcel's ranks so that you don't get your head ripped off your neck, Sammy. That's what I mean."
Sam rolls his eyes in a petulant manner. "Stop calling me Sammy. I'm not five,"
"'Kay then, Samantha,"
"Stop!"
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Rory finds herself in Rousseau's again, earphones in her ears. She hums the song playing as she flips through the pages of the book in her hand, a glass of scotch resting in front of her. Sam and Dean were putting together furniture again and hearing the two of them curse and bitch and moan at each other was not something she wanted to be around to here. It was like an Ikea catalogue... from hell.
She doesn't notice that someone has been calling for her attention until the chair across from her is pulled out and they're sitting directly across from her. Rory lifts her eyes from the pages of her book, and then her heart stops beating.
Elijah Mikaelson.
Fuck.
She pulls an earphone out, her lips parting in surprise. Elijah wears an unreadable look on his face as Rory closes her book, setting it down on the table in front of her. "Where have you been?" is the first thing he asks after what seems to be an eternity of silence. Rory blinks, unable to comprehend that he's actually here. "Where have you been, Rory? We haven't heard from you in two years."
"I..." Rory trails off. "What are you doing here?" is all she can muster, and she wants to slap herself in the face because what the fuck. It registered in her mind that the Mikaelsons were in the city but actually seeing one of them in the flesh almost took her breath away.
"I live here. And... so does Niklaus," Elijah exhales. "And Hayley."
"I heard," Rory replies grimly. She reaches for her glass of scotch. "I heard he had a baby. How is that possible? I thought vampires couldn't procreate."
"They can't. Niklaus is a hybrid, half werewolf. And Hayley is—was—a werewolf," Elijah explains. Rory's eyes flicker to her hands, and she feels that pit in her stomach again. Not only did Klaus sleep with Hayley, but he got her pregnant. Hayley had a chance to experience something Rory never could; childbirth. Rory would never get to have that feeling, ever. Because she was a vampire and she wasted the last of the cure on fucking Katherine. "Rory, why haven't you called?"
"You never called me either," Rory mumbles, picking at the edges of her shirt.
"You left with no warning, no message of goodbye. We had no idea what to think," Elijah responds. "Niklaus... he went back for you," Elijah's words cause Rory to look up in surprise. "He was looking for you in Mystic Falls; Caroline told him you hadn't returned home since Katerina."
"I didn't know. I thought I made it clear that I needed... that I needed time to heal," Rory wrings her fingers nervously. "I've been on the road, mostly. I don't really stick in one place for too long; it makes me anxious."
"Camille informed us that you've been coming to Rousseau's for a while,"
Rory shoots an accusatory look to Cami by the counter, but the blonde doesn't realise it. The brunette turns to face Elijah, exhaling. "Yes, I... I've bought an apartment on Bourbon Street. I'm living here for the time being," she states. "I'm living with my... boyfriend. And his brother."
Elijah's look remains inscrutable. He nods, but he doesn't look happy. "I see," he comments.
"How has he been?" Rory asks, quietly. "Ni—" she cuts herself off. "Klaus. How is Klaus?" Rory tucks her hair behind her ear. "I heard about his daughter."
"He's been... acclimating. The way Niklaus does," Elijah fixes the cuffs of his already perfect tuxedo. "There's a lot that you have missed whilst you were away, Rory."
"Mm," Rory doesn't have anything intelligible to add, simply looking down at the table.
"He still loves you, you know," Elijah says. Rory closes her head, taking in a shuddering breath. "He doesn't speak about you much to me, but he talks about you with Camille."
"So, she's familiar your family. Should've known," Rory mutters.
"Camille is Klaus'... therapist. Or stenographer. Her job title remains a confusion to me," Elijah explains. "It's difficult for him to really... speak about you with me. Or Rebekah. Even with Camille, he's very temperamental," Elijah's finger traces the rim of his own glass. "He paints, very much. He keeps that pendant of yours in his study."
"Elijah," Rory interjects, because she can't handle it. This is far too real. She knows she broke Klaus' heart and she knows that their breakup was messy, and she knows that he hurt her too, but she's spent too long trying to run away from him to come back to him like this. She still wasn't over him. She still loves him so much, and hearing about him like this tears her heart to pieces. "Please, don't... listen, he lost a daughter. Me being here, it wouldn't be good for him. Don't tell him I'm here."
"He already knows," Elijah states. Rory slumps in her chair, defeated. "As soon as Camille put the pieces together on who you were, she came to the compound to let us know."
"God," Rory presses the palm of her hands against her eyes. "This is so... I can't," Rory pushes her chair back, shaking her head. "I can't. Do this, I mean. I'm leaving."
Rory turns to walk away, but she's stopped in her steps as she runs into a hard chest. She freezes as a familiar scent fills her nose, the smell of his cologne. She feels him before she sees him, overpowering and looming and just so big. His presence was always overwhelming but being in his space again almost knocked Rory off her feet. She lifts her head from the floor and brown eyes connect with blue once more.
Klaus smiles. "Hello, Rory,"
A/N: AND I OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO......
rory hearing klaus say her name for the first time in two years... a cultural reset
also elijah continously exposing klaus is just a reoccurring theme at this point