Fandom(s): The Vampire Diaries (mid-season 3)

"I can't fucking believe you!"

The occupants of the Motel 6 were used to the yelling that came from room 232.

"Oh, go fuck yourself!"

And the throwing.

"I'm fucking leaving!"

And the door slamming as one of the two occupants fled the scene.

The last screaming match between the two girls in room 232 had ended with Rachel leaving the room, only to come back in a few hours. The one before that had ended in loud make-up sex and complaints to management from the other tenants.

As they could see from spying out of their windows, this argument ended with Dia Forbes storming off with only a small bag and the clothes on her back. And with a shocking twist, Rachel Manzano came out after her.

"Dia! It's not what it looks like!" Rachel ran to the stairs after girlfriend, a pleading look on her face.

Halfway down the stairs, Dia turned around. The nosy neighbors could see the fire burning in her eyes and the steam billowing out of her ears. They could tell Rachel had made a big fucking mistake. "It's not what it looks like?! Are you fucking kidding me, Rache? That's all you can fucking come up with?"

Dia wouldn't even let Rachel try and defend herself. She was on a warpath and she wasn't about to let her cheating girlfriend cut in. "'Cause it looked like my girlfriend of two years was fucking our fucking plug!"

"She was just visiting! We fell asleep watching George Lopez, nothing happened!" Rachel tried to explain.

"No one falls asleep watching George Lopez! Just admit that you fucked Ayn!" Dia paused, thinking for a moment, "Or, you know what, don't. I don't care about what fucking lies you manage to come up with. I'm fucking leaving!"

"Dia, please," Rachel begged as Dia turned back around and stormed down the steps. She managed to catch up with her raging girlfriend, gripping her wrist and forcing her to turn back around. "Just let me explain."

Dia eyed the tan hand around her wrist before following the skin up Rachel's arm, across her shoulder, up her neck and landing on her face. Mainly her tear filled eyes. Dia's heart cracked slightly, adding to the collection that had been quickly forming since had returned to her room to see their bed messy and her girlfriend cuddled up with a pantless Ayn.

The tears that Dia had been trying to keep at bay with her anger slowly started to form as she looked into Rachel's pleading eyes.

Those fucking eyes will be the death of me.

And Rachel knew that.

Unfortunately, her big doe eyes that reminded Dia of a little girl back home couldn't distract her from the figure hesitantly leaving room 232.

Dia's brown eyes—brown just like her mother's—snapped up to the woman leaving their room. Her hair was a mess; her shirt was ruffled, and she couldn't be bothered to put any pants on. Dia's tears dried up and her anger returned tenfold as she glared at someone who was supposed to be her best friend.

"You don't need to explain," Dia spit out the words like they were poison. Her glare darted from Ayn back to her soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. "I'm leaving. Goodbye."

"I've been your home for the past two years and you've been mine. You're just gonna throw that away because of a misunderstanding?" Rachel asked, pleading, tears slowly falling down her face.

"Where exactly was the misunderstanding? Did Ayn not remember we were dating, or did you forget?" Dia asked, a faux sweetness lacing her voice. "The only think I'm throwing away, Rachel, is the fucking trash."

Rachel was stunned. Ayn, who had been slowly moving to the stairs, was stunned. The son of the couple that was staying in room 121 was cheering.

"Tell her, sister! Fuck that bitch!" could faintly be heard through the window a seventeen year old boy was watching from.

Rachel looked behind her, spying the boy in the window who was kindly showing her his middle finger. "Can we please just talk about this inside?"

"No, because I'm leaving. Goodbye."

"Where are you gonna go? You don't even have a car!" Rachel tried to make Dia see sense.

"As far away from you and that whore as possible," Dia answered, a sneer on her face as she glanced up at Ayn who was silently watching from the stairs. "And I don't know, Rache, I'll walk until someone wants to pick me up."

"You hate me that much?" Rachel looked heartbroken at Dia's words. Heartbroken like all of this wasn't her fault. "You hate me so much..." her voice wobbled with emotion, a mix of anger and grief. Grief over a lost relationship. Anger over Dia's uncaring attitude to herself. "You hate me so much, that you would rather go hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere than stay here? You could die, Dia!"

"Yes, Rachel, I do hate you that much." Dia turned on her heel. Not sparing another glance to Rachel or Ayn as she stormed through the parking lot. The cracks in her heart grew with each solitary foot fall.

Behind her, Rachel let her anger grow to cover up the immense amount of pain and regret flooding her chest. "Fine! Go ahead, fucking run off!" She shouted after Dia, her voice cracking momentarily, "If you end up dead in a fucking ditch don't come crying to me."

"I won't!"

And with that, Dia turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

─────

Dia didn't know how long she'd been walking, but the sun had long since set behind the horizon. The early spring chill of the night had begun to set itself in her bones; her anger and her high were all that was keeping her warm. Her loose, light, oversized flannel twisted and twirled behind her, fighting the light spring zephyr that brushed through her.

Her arm had grown sore from being held out and had gradually lowered down to her side until just her thumb was sticking out, pointing in front of her. Few cars had passed by, even fewer noticed her walking along the side of the road, and none had given her the time of day. But she was in the middle of Amish country and everyone who wasn't Amish was an asshole.

If she somehow managed to not get murdered by walking along an unlit backroad at night, she would probably be able to catch a ride on a horse and buggy to a town and go from there. She just needed to last 'til morning.

"Shouldn't be too hard," she scoffed to herself.

Her ratty sneakers scuffed against the gravel along the road. Occasionally, she'd pick a particularly bigger rock and kick it as far as she could. Sometimes it would go veering off into the woods and she could hear it clunk against the bark of a tree. Other times, it would go off into the road, skidding across the pavement. Her favorite times, however, were when she managed to kick it almost directly in front of her. In those situations she was able to come across the same rock moments later and continue on until it was eaten by either the trees or the road.

At some point during the night, Dia stopped paying attention to the road all together. Her hands went limp at her sides and her focus was put entirely onto the rock she had managed to find and kick ten times now. It was certainly a record.

Her joy at rock kicking couldn't last forever, unfortunately. Eventually her foot kicked against it the wrong way and it went arching into the street. Right into the window of a car. Fortunately either Dia's kicks were weak or that car's windows were strong—or most likely a mix of both—because the rock harmlessly bounced off the window before skidding back along the pavement.

Even though the car was unharmed, the driver did not appreciate the surprise at his window. Dia couldn't tell what kind of car it was but it looked expensive at it swerved and jerked to an unsteady stop on the other side of the road.

"Fuck." Dia can't help but to think aloud as the car swerves around the road until it's pulled up next to her.

Now that it's closer, Dia can see it's quite a beautiful car. It's a sleek, shiny black that's probably worth more than Dia's entire life. The windows were tinted almost as dark as the rest of the car. She was left to stare at her own dim reflection before the window was rolled down and she was met with the dark eyes of the driver.

"I didn't mean to hit your car," she blurted out.

"I'm sure you didn't, love." There was something devilish in the smile he wore. "Now, what's a pretty thing like you doing out here alone?"

Dia internally swooned at his accent. It was so much hotter than the hicks she was used to hearing at the motel. Everything about the man oozed danger, not like she particularly cared. He was hot. His voice was hot. His car was hot. And as of a few hours ago, Dia was single.

She brushed the thought of Rachel out of mind with a flick of her hair. A sly smile, nearly matching the driver's own, made its way onto her face as she leaned down and rested her arms against the passenger-side window.

"I'm hitchhiking," she answered sweetly, "You want to give me a ride?"

"Where you headed?"

"I don't care as long as it's away."

His smile got impossibly wider; Dia grew her's to match. "Well then, hop on in." He reached across the dash to unlock the passenger door. His hand clasped around the handle and opened it as far as he could. Dia took the hint and opened it the rest of the way before sitting herself in the smooth leather interior. She placed her ratty bag at her feet before slamming the door shut. Before she knew it, the car was violently swerving around before speeding down the road.

Her window was still down allowing the chilly spring wind to blow through the car. Her smile stayed wide as her new companion sped down the backroad.

This was dangerous. She knew that. But she couldn't bring herself to care. Dia liked to live free, so she did what she does best, and let go.

It wasn't until they were an hour into their aimless drive that they learned anything about each other. It was only their names because they had realized they never shared. So, as they were passing the Welcome sign to a state neither could remember the name of, she learned his name—Kol: short, sexy, and rolled of her tongue in a way they both liked—and he learned hers. That was as much as they knew about each other.

They were perfectly content with that.

Many wouldn't be. But many wouldn't hitchhike. Many wouldn't pick up hitchhikers.

It was a dangerous game, hitchhiking. It was a great, sure-fire way to insure that you'll die a horrible death. Picking up hitchhikers was also a massive risk. Somebody involved in each equation was almost always a serial killer. Either the hitchhiker is searching for good samaritans to kill and a car to steal or the driver is a looking for lonely people who won't be missed to kill, kidnap, or both. It was something everyone was aware of. 

Dia Forbes didn't care about that risk when she got into this stranger's car.

Kol Mikaelson didn't care about that risk when he picked up this random girl off the side of the road. 

Fortunately for Kol, Dia was not a serial killer. Unfortunately for Dia, Kol was. 

He was hungry and uncaring of the mess he would make in his new car. Eventually.

But first, he'd have some fun. And boy did Dia seem like fun.

─────

This is an idea I've had for a while. But like, as a full-fledged fic. I have most of it planned out but zero patience and probably undiagnosed ADD so I didn't want it to just sit in my drafts collecting dust like so many other ideas so here's some of it lmao.