♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 sixty-eight

delicate.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

WAVES OF STATIC AND BILLOWS HUNG HEAVY OVER BEACON HILLS, EACH BLINK OF LIGHTNING BLINDING THE EYE OF THE SUPERMOON THAT STARED DOWN ON THE TOWN, ALL-SEEING AND ALL-KNOWING. 

None could hide from it. None could run from it. It soaked through every crevice and brought goosebumps to each exposed slither of skin. For a singular, perhaps even millisecond, the vicious whirls of wind came to a halt - as the entire town itself had begun to hold its breath. 

As ringed fingers cradled the steering wheel and eyes scoured anywhere but mirrors, the Mikaleson held a breath of his own. A strong one. One that birthed an aching into his forever still heart.

His eyes met the empty roads and streetlamps that curled over into ominous spotlights. Shadows scuttled beneath them, men adorned with tubes connecting from mouths to shoulders and metal rings positioned for one too many eyes kept their icy stare. 

Elijah felt his hands drape across the handles and eyebrows fall to a soft furrow. Veins clogged up with an inky black liquid his soft skin couldn't suppress. Teeth chewed at his bottom lips and the Mikaelson swore they saw him too. A twisted hunger for something he, as old as time itself, did not recognize.

"Elijah."

Everything became white noise. Tipping in and out of light, he barely saw the layers of steampunk masks inch forward.

"Elijah!"

The vampire blinked rapidly, shoulders bunched up and a disgruntled look directed towards his doppel. "Can I call you Eli?" James rambled, shimmying the puffer jacket from his shoulders. "Elijah just sounds so... old."

Scrunching up his sight, Elijah tore his eyes away and faced the human. "No," he stated, his tone firm and final. 

He paid little attention to the man beside him as his gaze crawled back to the streetlights. Although, no eyes bothered to stare back. No bodies bunched up underneath the beams of light. Just a tired vampire glaring at empty streets. 

James noticed it, although, he decided not to pry. He bowed his head and crinkled the cigarette ash underneath his feet before he spoke again.

As all in all, he needed nothing from Elijah but a party trick and a promise. "You need to put this on." he pulled the cap from his scuffled hair and tossed it towards his twin - who himself, coiled to his bone. 

Elijah had agreed to a simple favour. One that could possibly be repaid when the time was right. Not to play parent trap with his double. 

"I will do no such thing."

James felt his face fall and eyes roll to the back of his head. "People in this town know that face," he pointed with a sour tone, "As my face. Being me is something I doubt you could pull off."

 "Very true, mini-me. I'm incapable of being so incredibly dull." Elijah snarked, pulling the cap over his gelled hair and hissing when the puffer jacket hit his chest. "Say, you wouldn't have a Hospital nearby, would you?"

James settled in the driver's seat before sinking into the leather. "Don't tell me you get car sickness."

"I can't compel on an empty stomach, James."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Dallas had a bad feeling linger in hers. 

The ground grit underneath her soles and windy hair clouded her sight. A part of her wanted to rehearse what she'd say to Scott. To explain how she'd let Theo run free. But the same words kept coming back. 

She couldn't stand the guilt of killing him.

She couldn't hear those screams again. See the flash of fear in their eyes before death. Feel the body go limp in her hands once more. It'd send her over the edge. 

As Dallas waited in the Hospital chairs, staring at the unanswered messages sent to Scott, waiting for Stiles to walk through the doors, she had truly never felt so helpless. Her crybaby tears begged to bubble to the surface no matter how much she wished them away.

Lydia was lost and the Siren could only ever hear her through soft whispers in the wind. Liam left captivated and feral by the Supermoon. Malia wrapped up in the mind games of Theo Raeken and Peter Hale. And Dallas, still ever so raw and stricken from her humanity's rude awakening, could do nothing but watch and wallow. 

It was unlikely that any would want to see her anyway - as her face became a dreaded sight for the past few weeks. 

Her fingers dug into the thin fabric of the cotton seats. Nails tearing at the stitching and focusing on anything but her own thoughts. Words she couldn't dare to speak slithered around her throat and kept her breaths tight.

Anesthetic aromas and elevator music filled up the somber silence. Chills ran up her spine and twisted it's frosted finger across her skin as goosebumps rose underneath her flannel. Dallas hoped she could hide beneath her fingers forever, as to build a prison out of flesh and bone became easier to fathom than the shackles born out of the fragments of her broken humanity. 

Alas, she brought them to her side and scrubbed the red-stained fingernails across the denim of her jeans while ignoring the stench of fresh death and rotting flesh that followed her around like a lost ghost. 

"He.. what?"

Dallie's eyes snapped up. 

Everything happened a little too fast. Each moment harder to catch than the last. One moment, Melissa McCall spread a smile sweet enough to rot teeth, pressing a clipboard against her chest and shaking the curls from her face - the next - dropping her phone from her ear and dashing to the door with feet barely touching the floor. 

The Garcia widened her eyes. Guilt ate up the remnants of her stomach and began to sink its teeth into her lungs instead. Shallow breaths escaped her lips as she followed. She promised she'd kill Theo. It was such a simple task, and yet, she couldn't do it. 

And somebody had paid the price.

She rose to her feet within moments. As blood rushed to her head and blurred her vision, Dallas marched on anyway and followed the paced footprints of Scott's mother in haste.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest and her eyes were glued to the image of Melissa McCall, at least, until that glue watered down and spread sporadically around the room until she walked straight into someone's chest.

Her hands pushed the puffer jacket to the side and muttered profanities under her breath as she shoved past. Melissa melted out of view, carousels of bright lights and twisting hallways swallowing up her figure. Dallas tried to squeeze through the doors and tripped over her own feet in the meantime - panic and paranoia clawing up her legs and latching them to the floor. 

"That's not very polite."

Dallas stopped in her tracks. She recognized the voice. The tone had a slight English tinge and the usual mispronunciation of certain words she'd always mock. 

The person had already turned away but froze once she spoke out. "Dad?"

Elijah twisted his head and remained silent. His hair was a little less grey than she'd remembered it. An intimidating glint in his eye that she'd never noticed before. While all the building blocks were in place, something felt off.

Meanwhile, he took the next moments to choose his words carefully. Another to study her face. A face that he'd only ever seen through James Garcia's pictures. 

He waited a moment too long, as before he knew it, her arms wrapped around his torso and face pressed up against his chest. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you." Her words muffled into the jacket, finding comfort and shade in the midst of her own storm. "I thought you'd left for good. I.. I thought I made you leave."

While tears gathered in her eyes and relief coated her face, his own remained motionless. Dallas noticed his silence - his resistance to hug her back - and slouched. "I know you're disappointed. I get it. Everything I did was.. wrong, and stupid... but I know you understand, you always do."

Silence. 

Dallas swallowed harshly and pulled her arms from his sides. "Silent treatment, okay, I deserve that." Her face blotched with hurt. "I was hoping I could hear your voice, you know, tell me everything's gonna be okay like you always do." She paused, wiping her hands on her jeans once more and clenching her jaw together. "Lie to me if you have to.  Just do your dad thing." The cracks in her voice worsened as wind whistled through them. "Please?" 

James Garcia, in a complete nutshell, meant everything to Dallas Garcia. From the only parent who cared, to the only parent that stayed, to the parent that defended her no matter what. 

She really wanted to be able to run to that parent when things got sticky.

Now he was looking at her like he didn't even recognize her. 

Fidgeting nails pressed into her palms and her eyebrows sloped into a frown. While an air of melancholy surrounded her, the teenager bowed her head in guilt and avoided Elijah's look. 

The vampire mumbled out weakly. He felt a hollow ache sink into his chest and pressed his lips together. Hunger worsening in his stomachs and occasionally bowing his head to hide his veined undereyes, he mumbled out a weak response. "I.." Elijah swallowed. "Have to go."

Loving her seemed like an inconvenience - and she wondered if she really was so tiring.

The teenager watched as he turned way, tears pricking her eyes but refusing to allow them to fall. She forced a laugh, wincing at the hurt hoping the guilt would eat that up too. "Dad, please-"

Eli didn't stop. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and allowed his steps to grow larger and further away. That word crawled under his skin, defecting his form and shaking his sense of self. Overwhelmed by both her and his hunger, he kept his pace quick and focused on ignoring her voice. 

Dallas felt her hands drop to her sides. Raindrops of tear water filled up behind her eyes and drowned her consciousness while heartstrings snapped beneath her ribcage, allowing her candy heart to drop into the pit of her stomach - rotting away in the pool of guilt that scorched her inner body. 

And sadly, her bandaid would no longer stick, nor look her in the eye. 

Her body swayed from side to side as she pressed her feet against the cold linoleum. She didn't expect a pity party or blind support, but a simple it's okay would've made everything feel a little less like dying on the inside.

Irises of piped icing darted across the room, bloodshot with red velvet and topped off with a sweet teary glaze. Paper peeled the walls of the hospital and wobbled around her like a house of cards ready to fall. Or perhaps it was Dallas who was ready to fall. Either way, she already felt the rubble begin to sink into her shoulders and anchor her hope beneath the dirt.

Placing both hands atop the shriveling wallpaper, she swallowed her pride and flickered her gaze up to her father's disappearing figure. Surrounded by an aroma of red crosses and surgical needles, her eyebrows fell atop her nose in a hasty look of confusion.

"BLOOD DRIVE."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Scott McCall swallowed a mouthful of blood as he rose from the floor. Mason held one arm over his shoulder and clutched his side with the other. With the Supermoon lighting up his figure and glittering each speckle of sweat and blood that coated his face, the Alpha winced silently. 

"What happened?"

Scott didn't meet his gaze. 

Instead, he faced the floor and recalled the events slowly. "It's the Supermoon. It was just-"

"Bad timing?"

This time, Scott mustered up the strength to look up. Theo Raeken stormed forward with vengeful eyes and a sour tongue. "I mean, seriously. You couldn't have waited five minutes?" 

His hands shoved against Mason's chest and ignored how he fell to his feet - prioritizing his angered gaze towards Scott. "I should've stayed." he balled up his fists. "I should've made sure."

Beneath the layers of dried blood and bruised skin, Theo suspected a smug grin coating Scott's face. "Because now you have to kill me yourself." 

Theo ignored it but his eyes still lit up with hellfire. "They're still mine." He inched closer to the Alpha. "Maybe not yet, but they'll come around."

Scott tried to conceal his winces as he shook his head. Breaths barely slipped out through wheezes. "Not for you." 

He anticipated wrath. He anticipated some sort of uproar. However, when Theo's claws dug into his stomach and skin tore underneath the nail, Scott never anticipated to buckle so quick. His eyes sank into a deeper shade of red by the minute. 

"They're not like you." Scott swallowed the words. "They never will be."

"Because I'm a Chimera?" A concoction of hurt and anger poured from the cracks of his voice. Theo tightened his grip and gritted his teeth with each breath. "Because I'm not a real werewolf?"

"Because you're barely even human." 

Theo felt the words sting. Scott stuck his finger and swirled his wounds around in the places it hurt the most. But just as The McCall did, the Chimera tossed him towards the stairs - fingers still etched deep in his stomach and blood staining the skin. 

Scott gasped breathlessly. Remaining limp as he watched Theo back away. His eyes fell to a close and like a cruel twist of fate - he felt the hole in his stomach widen, and his body die in the same way his true love had. 

He expected a bright light. A tunnel of hope. Instead, a hopeless feeling weighed his body to the ground. Grief shackled his bones and prepared them for death. 

Across town, Stiles Stilinski had finally found Sheriff Stilinski. He, in such a striking resemblance to Scott, lay on the floor with nothing but a pool of red liquid and claw marks comforting his cold skin. 

But as Stiles dropped to his father's side, clutching his hand and feeling the distant thump of a heartbeat echo back, his shaky breaths stilled, and pressed his forehead against his father's chest. 

Scott didn't remain alone for too long, though. Dashing through the doorway with her hair flying over her shoulders and silver necklace bouncing against her cold skin, Melissa dropped to her son's side. 

"No, no, no-" She panted out. Her hands cradled his face before trembling down to his wounds and pressing her hands firmly against them. Mason, still groggily raising himself from the floor, widened his eyes at the sight. He watched as she thumped her hands against his heart and counted shakily with each sudden jolt. 

"What.." Mason began. "What are you doing?"

".. six, seven, eight.." Melissa felt her eyes grow glossy and her breathing fall short. "Bringing him back." she spoke between restless counting and jumps. 

Mason continued to watch with a slanted frown. Despite his mother's desperate attempts, Scott remained dull and lifeless on the library floor. He didn't mean to fill her head with doubt - to tell her that her son was dead, but the words slipped out anyway. 

"He hasn't had a pulse in over fifteen minutes," he mumbled. "You can't bring someone back that's.."

Melissa didn't want to hear it. She couldn't. Death was not an option, not for her patients, and especially not for her son. "He's not someone. He's my son." she spoke through grit teeth. Her jolts against his heart became harsher and quicker in-between. "And he's an Alpha, and he's too strong to die like this!"

Tears began to fuzz over her eyes and Scott's bloody face became blurrier. His head wobbled with the thumping, shaking from side to side to the beat of Melissa's muted crying, but never showing a speck of life. "Come on," Melissa ordered, her tone falling scolding and helpless. "Open your eyes and look at me, okay?"

"Come on." She gasped. "Breathe, baby, breathe." She breathed fresh air into his lungs and tried with all her might to keep it flowing through his system. Exhausting herself - fooling herself, perhaps, in the hopes that there was a slight chance Scott McCall could live to see the sun once again. 

Mason frowned. "Melissa.. it's-"

"Shut up!" Her voice boomed through the library while tears dropped from her eyes and onto her son's face. "He's too strong to die like this." The woman leaned forward and allowed her voice to carry closer to his ears as she attempted to resuscitate him. "Come on, you can do this. You're an Alpha." 

The words echoed through the walls and across the empty roads of Beacon Hills. Into every street, every whistle of wind.. every ear that would listen. 

"You're an Alpha."

Mason tore his eyes away. He couldn't bare the sight - to sit there and watch a grieving mother accept anything but the loss of her child. "Come on, Scott. Roar."  she cried out in sheer desperation. 

"Come on, Scott. Roar!"

Her hands held high in the air and slammed down onto his chest. Swinging all her might, desperation, and hope into a final thump against his heart. Fingers grooved deep into his skin as she felt the outline of his ribcage bend underneath her fists 

- and with a gasp, Scott McCall's eyes had finally snapped open and unkindled fury lit up the flames of red that scorched his vexing glare.

A thundering roar accompanied them. A chorus of pain, betrayal, and revenge rumbled the walls; cracks lined the bricks while plaster dust sprinkled from the ceiling like overdue snow. Snow that would soon melt into a river of vengeance that Theo Raeken would soon drown in. 

Scott stared up at the ceiling. Each wound stretched wide and hot blood left scorching his veins. 

He'd promise it. 

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Lydia Martin felt a sharp pain wake her from her deep slumber. A scent of sickness and chemicals surrounded her as did a dreary green haze. Her hand raised to aid the headache that had stung beneath her porcelain skin but her wrists remained tiredly to her side.  

"I've never done this before, Lydia." The fuzzy figure of Theo Raeken approached her, face knitted together in a sour look and mean tone. "I know how dangerous it is, but it's a risk we have to take-"

He reached out for her while the Banshee cowered away from his grasp. No matter how much she fought against him, though, the harder his grip became on her soft forearms and the deeper his fingernails deep in her neck. 

Lydia gasped out as her mouth fell open and her eyes drifted off to somewhere far from where they stood. The redhead stayed mute as he continued to taunt her mercilessly. "What do you think, Lydia?" He spat. "Am I doing it right?" 

Flashes of dark, misted woods coated his vision. One moment a clearing, the next, a studded tree cut halfway at the root. 

Lydia remained stiff as he jeered. "I see it." he left fingermarks on her wrists the tighter he held them. "I can see it."

His eyes then faded back to a malicious brown. They downed on her and wasted no time tossing her to the floor once he was finished toying with her mind.  Her hands gripped at the straw that lay beneath her and her head settled between her knees. 

She sniffled softly. Lydia Martin hoped that someone could hear her cries. To hope her psychic link would connect to someone - anyone.

And it did. To four Sirens who held no mercy.

As Theo Raeken dragged Lydia Martin to the Nemeton, each whisper from her lips shook against the waters of Beacon Hills. Carried by the tide, slithering its way into every ravine and raindrop, the banshee cry became a banshee whimper.

"Watch this, Lydia." He turned to the girl, who he had left slumped against the grass, and set his eyes on the dead bodies surrounding the Nemeton. With a green syringe in hand, he dug the needle deep into a corpse's neck and gleamed with psychotic glee. "You think you lost your mind?" He turned to her with his teeth bared. "Well, watch this!"

Lydia kept her low hum against the wet dirt. Running her hands through the grass and hazily stared out at the diluted green. No matter how sore her throat was, she kept her cry going. 

Needle by needle, each dead body gasped from against the bark and met eyes with their creator. 

"What's... what's happening?" The words were hard to hear from between specks of grass for Lydia, but she recognized it. A former student. Hayden.

Another spoke. Kelsey. "Who are you?"

Theo traced his eyes against his Chimeras and grit his teeth together. "I'm your Alpha." He stepped forward, pointing at the recently deceased with malevolence. "And all of you.. all of you belong to me."

Lydia watched as he spun on his feet - and how they all blindly obeyed. She watched as he built his dream soldiers and how he'd tear Beacon Hills apart with them by his side. She watched as they all stepped over her broken and bruised body. 

"Help me."

Marilyn Garcia, miles away, stood in her kitchen and ran her fingers over her wedding ring. She had slipped it off her finger and watched it twinkle beneath the lights. Marilyn sat alone and spend her days mourning for her old life.

Until a chill splashed up her spine and words whispered in her ear did she drop the wedding ring, hearing the echo of clattering metal cover her quick gasp."Help me."

Sybil Garcia slathered water up her sister's scales and frowned at the stab wound that stained her stomach. Each scoop of lakewater eased the irritation and washed away the blood, but never healed the cut. Sybil dug her hand beneath the waves once more but gasped - as did Seline, who jumped forward and widened her eyes. 

The water carried a voice they never knew. But one that they could hear clear as day. "Help me."

Dallas Garcia left the Hospital, wiping the excess tears from her face with her sleeve and avoiding the curious looks of strangers. Her father's car keys still hung in her hands and dangled between her trembling fingers. The streets had drowned in rainwater and puddles blinded her with reflections of bright streetlamps. It wasn't until she found herself buckling forward and catching the passenger door to steady herself did she begin to pant herself. 

"Help me."

All four Sirens simultaneously stared up.

Yet, only one knew her name. 

Dallas parted her lips. Her psychic link had connected to the Banshee. She could find her. She could save her. 

A breath of relief escaped her throat. "Lydia." 

Although, when Dallas looked up, it wasn't her who stared back. It was Klaus Mikaelson.

"Hi there." 

☆ word count: 3,892 ☆

a/n: go easy on elijah ok? i love him. also another long chapter to make up for inconsistent uploads & lemme know if yall see any errors. <3