SEASON ONE — EPISODE TWELVE
"𝙞𝙛 𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙚"

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧—

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'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ BROOKE KNEW IT WAS COMING, she was always bound to be the third wheel whether she liked it or not. It was a painful experience seeing Caroline, the cheerleader who never shuts up about all around girly subjects, and Matt, the jock who never shuts up about cars and football, be together. As much as that sounds like a perfect match, it really wasn't.

She was stood on the opposite side of the table, across from Caroline and Matt, carefully painting the edge of the poster for the 1950s dance that night. She wore a black vest, which rolled up just above the waistband of her grey sweatpants and she was covered in paint, little splotches of blue and yellow everywhere.

Despite tuning out most of Caroline and Matt's conversations about future dates they were planning to go on, she heard the end of it, "I've never seen you such a mess." Matt spoke up, a grin on his lips and Caroline scoffed yet she was unable to hide her large smile.

"Don't talk smack." She warned, wiping some paint on Matt's arm using her paintbrush and his jaw dropped in over—dramatic shock towards her.

He leaned forwards to put paint on her, but she leaned backwards, holding up her hands, "I mean, I just thought that you told everyone else what to do." He explained, turning to continue painting.

"Well, I do that too. But if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself." Caroline explained and Brooke perked up, her eyes wide in agreement.

"You're so smart, Care—bear." Brooke complimented, watching as Caroline smiled from ear—to—ear, mouthing "Thanks.". It went silent as Brooke and Matt focused back on the poster, but Caroline was unable to concentrate, her eyes fixed on the side of Matt's face.

"You know, I just like that we're hanging out. Who knew, you and me? Even if Brooke's here." Caroline joked, looking over at her best—friend who held an expression of playful offence.

"Well, Brooke never told me how fun you could be." He looked over at her, a smirk on his lips and she smiled back at him, the corners of her eyes creasing out of pure happiness. Brooke watched the two, and as much as she tried to act annoyed, she couldn't help but smile.

"So, what are you wearing to this dumb dance anyway? I know Brooke's wearing red, should we colour coordinate?" Caroline looked at him with a hopeful glint in her eyes, and Brooke watched, a hand on her hip.

"Um, I'm not going." Matt responded, avoiding her gaze, his eyes locked on the poster.

"Why not?"

"I gotta work. Bussing tables at the Grill."

"That just sucks, man. You want me to take over your shift?" Brooke offered, a grin on her lips but before he could reply with a "no, thanks", Caroline interrupted.

"Since when are you a busboy?" The blonde asked and Matt scoffed, clearly taking offence. Brooke stayed quiet, pretending not to be listening as she continued painting the outlining of the poster.

"It's a job. You know, some of us have to work, Caroline." Matt snapped, though he was calm per usual, he was never the type to get mad, "With my Mom in and out, things are tight, so..." He began to pack things away, clearly hurt.

"Well, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that I didn't know you had a job." Caroline explained, shaking her head.

"Well, I do. I gotta go." Matt dismissed, dropping a tissue from his hand and walking off without a goodbye. Caroline watched him leave, her jaw dropped slightly in shock.

"And they say women are the sensitive ones." Brooke spoke up, shaking her head in disbelief as she continued to paint. Caroline looked over at her, her expression unreadable and she put away her own paintbrush before storming away, leaving Brooke all on her own.

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BROOKE WAS PISSED ABOUT A LOT OF THINGS, one of those things being she missed the Halloween dance and as much as she was glad she didn't have to watch Vicki die, she still wanted to dress up. Bonnie had drove the two there and interrogated Brooke about her outfit for about an hour, let's just say that the Elliot had gotten sick of the Bennett before the night even started.

After a few glasses of punch, Brooke found Mr. Saltzman stood nearby, so she approached, bumping her shoulder with his, "Ricky, who forced you to do this?" She spoke loudly over the blasting music, looking up at him and he grinned, shrugging.

"You know, you remind me of someone." He told her, rather quietly which made it hard to hear but Brooke still managed, her dazzling smile still evident.

"Who's that?" She raised a brow, taking a sip of her punch.

"A woman I used to know. Her name was Mary." He told her in hopes that the connection was true. The day he found out, he immediately rushed to the reception to check the records, to confirm Brooke's mother's name, but the receptionist there refused to let him see anything without the permission of their boss.

"Mary?" Brooke's eyebrows raised in shock, the mention of her mother's name causing her breath to hitch in the back of her throat.

"Yeah, Mary." He smiled, a distant look on his face and Brooke looked down into her plastic cup, suddenly saddened.

"My mom's name was Mary. Mary Gilbert." Brooke mumbled, swirling her cup miserably and Alaric quickly noticed the change in tune, along with the use of the word 'was'.

"Was?" Alaric asked, leaning forwards to hear her response, the music becoming louder. Brooke, then, turned her head, tears in her eyes as she looked at him.

"She died." She told him, and it was clear she hadn't gotten over her mother's death, considering the amount of changes that were made following the death.

Alaric didn't say anything, his heart dropping to his stomach, his eyes wide. He looked away for a moment in attempt to think up what to say to comfort the girl he'd saddened but when he turned back to her, she'd disappeared...

All she wanted to do was enjoy just one dance. Her first ever school dance? Ruined by a boy. Every other school dance she'd ever been to? Ruined by a boy. This time, thankfully a boy didn't ruin it, only it was her emotions that got in the way. Brooke Elizabeth Elliot was broken, and she didn't know how to fix herself.

She stormed down the pitch black, empty hallways of Mystic Falls High and found her mother's old locker, remembering the days her mother would talk about what it was like for her in High School. She slumped down the locker, her knees to her chest and her face buried in her hands as she cried.

The blasting 50s rock music played, muffled through the walls, the quiet sound enough to give her the headache she begged not to appear. It was dark, too dark, the type of dark that high school couples would sneak down to hook up, so when she heard quick footsteps approaching, she huffed, her face still buried in her hands, muffling any noise.

Her assumption that they were just a couple looking to sneak around quickly vanished when a gush of wind swept by her and a voice was heard, "What are you doing here?" A deep voice asked and she assumed there must be two people.

"Trying to get the journal. As in, sticking to the plan, something you're not doing. Leave the girl alone." A woman responded, her voice mature and filled with responsibility.

"I like her. She looks like Katherine." The man replied, his voice much more playful and childish. At his words, Brooke's eyes widened and she covered her mouth slowly to quieten any noises possible. They were vampires and they would most definitely kill her if they found out she was sat just to their left — she was honestly unsure how they couldn't smell her or hear her heartbeat, but she supposed they'd have to focus for that.

"She's not Katherine, okay? Katherine is in the tomb."

"I know, but— wait..." The man trailed off, his node twitching and his brows furrowed. The woman followed his gaze, confused, "There's someone here." He muttered, his eyes focused on the dark shadow over a certain row of lockers, he couldn't see anyone, but he could hear them.

"Who's there?" The woman called out, taking a step forwards and Brooke took that as her sign to run, though she knew she wouldn't get far. She sped off down the dark corridor, causing the woman to huff and the man to growl.

He followed after her, a smirk on his lips and she ran as fast as she could down another hallway, running into some double doors but when she tried to push them open, she realised they were chained together on the other side.

"Shit!" She yelled under her breath, turned around and watching as the man stalked towards her, his pace slow as if he knew he'd catch her eventually. With another huff, Brooke stayed calm, speeding towards the doors to the cafeteria, the only light in the large room full of tables being the vending machines.

When she ran to the other set of doors, the man stormed through the ones she entered through and sped over to her in a split second, grabbing her by the hair. Brooke screamed in pain, fighting against his grip with all of her might, though deep down, she knew he was about to kill her and there was nothing she could do about it.

He threw her onto a table with ease, and she rolled over it, falling onto the ground on the other side along with a bunch of pencils and paper. Brooke scrambled, looking around at the ground for something to use as a weapon and fortunately, without him seeing, she grabbed four sharpened pencils before he grabbed her, pinning her against the wall.

The man held her there, staring at her with a villainous grin and she scowled, feeling something tickling her leg. As much as she wanted to scratch her leg, to move the thing that was tickling her so badly, she couldn't, his grip too tight.

"Wow, you're pretty." The man smirked, running his fingers through her hair gently and she scrunched up her face in disgust, turning her face away from his. Forcefully, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him but she squeezed her eyes closed, refusing, "Look at me!" He yelled, violently slapping her across her cheek.

"Stefan!" Brooke screamed out, unsure of what to do in that moment, feeling hopeless. She couldn't move, the pencils in her hands becoming useless to her.

"Oh, so you know Stefan? Well, he's not coming to help you. He's too busy protecting that other girl, the one who looks like Katherine. He doesn't care about you." The man spoke in a calm tone, with anger laced in it and her green eyes snapped open, filled with not only tears but frustration as well.

"I don't care." Brooke snapped, standing her ground, not letting his words get to her — she'd never been the type to beg to live, to stay alive in such a horrid world. She began to cry, not out of fear of death, but out of anger, "Why? Why can I never catch a break?" She sobbed and the man rolled his eyes, becoming annoyed.

"You humans are so emotional." He muttered, his patience wearing thin, "I should just kill you."

"Please, do it. If I survive, I'll only — probably — have another chance with death next week anyways." She responded, a singular tear rolling down her cheek and he stared at her for a moment in thought before shrugging.

"I'll make it quick." He told her, his tone oddly comforting and his eyes became red, veins appearing underneath. He leaned forwards slowly, moving her hair to the side and her breaths were calm, as if she was readying herself for death. It felt like the tenth time she'd came face to face with death, and now... she wasn't going to fight it away.

Pain. She felt it in her thigh, hence the tickling sensation and she felt it in her neck, the feeling of the man's fangs scratching against her skin, "Just do it." She whispered, her eyes squeezed shut, ready to endure the agonising pain but nothing came.

Before he could sink his sharp teeth into her neck, the doors swung open to the cafeteria and Stefan sped forwards, throwing the random man backwards away from her. Brooke stayed still with her back against the wall and looked down at her thigh, her breath hitching to the back of her throat when she saw a pencil wedged into her skin, blood trickling through her tights and down to her boots.

"Hey, dickhead." Damon's voice sounded as the man sped up and he turned around, looking over at the older Salvatore brother, who held a broken wooden stick, "Nobody wants to kill you. We just wanna talk."

Brooke watched the scene play out, her hand moving down to clutch her leg and Stefan turned at the smell of blood, noticing her injury, "Brooke, are you okay?" He asked, taking a step towards her, seemingly unbothered by the sickening and throat—aching smell. She moved away from him cautiously, waddling away from all three vampires but Stefan only took a step closer, causing her to furrow her brows.

She noticed it the other day, and she has definitely noticed it now but Stefan was completely oblivious to it all — she thought he'd be the first one to notice, to realise that the smell of her blood didn't affect him as much as it was supposed to, especially considering he was on an animal diet.

Everything was happening too quickly for Brooke to comprehend, her mind spinning in ways that made her dizzy and she felt her knees begin to give out on her. One moment Damon was holding the broken stick and the next it was in Stefan's hand being plunged into the unknown vampire's stomach.

He fell to his knees, groaning out in pain and Brooke watched with wide eyes, trying to stay as far away as possible with her back now pressed against one of the bright vending machines. Damon approached Stefan and the other vampire whilst the aforementioned Salvatore sent the man a glare, "Now you feel like talking?"

"Screw you." Was all the vampire replied with in a pained voice and Stefan bent down, shoving the stick further into his stomach.

"Wrong answer." Stefan told him, his voice deep and sending shivers down Brooke's spine as she watched the scene play out. The man groaned even louder in agony, glancing over at Brooke, "Don't look at her." Stefan warned, forcing the man to look at his face, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's fun." The man responded with a smug voice, knowing that no matter what, he was going to die that night. Stefan, now even angrier than before yet somehow still calm, pushed the stick further, the sharp end appearing through the man's back.

"What do you want with Elena?" Stefan asked, considering he was going after Elena first.

"It's because... she looks... like Katherine." Brooke spoke up with a few pauses in between, having to squeeze her eyes shut due to the pain she was enduring. As all three vampires look towards her, they — even Damon — couldn't help but feel a sense of sympathy for her... there was just an energy in Brooke Elliot that none of them could ever dislike.

"You knew Katherine?" Damon asked the man with scrunched brows, his arms crossed over his chest and Stefan stood back, giving his best—friend a one over to make sure she hadn't passed out yet.

"Aw... You thought you were the only ones. You don't even remember me." The man dragged on, smirking mischievously and Damon rolled his eyes, bending down a little.

"Tell me how to get in the tomb. Hmm?"

"No."

And with that, Stefan bent down again and twisted the stick even further into his stomach, causing the man to let out even more groans, sending shocks of pain through the back of Brooke's brain, causing her to wince.

"This is gross." Brooke muttered, looking away from the blood spilling from the man's stomach.

"Don't look then." Damon shrugged as if it was the most simple thing in the world and inched even closer to the man's face, a serious look on his face, "Now, tell me. How do I get into the tomb?"

"The grimoire." The man choked out, his face scrunched with anger, he was clearly fuming.

"Well, where is it?" Damon snapped, tilting his head to the left in the slightest and the man stayed silent, only causing more trouble and pain for himself. For the fifth time, Stefan leaned down and shoved the stick further, causing more screams and more agony.

"Check the journal. The journal. Use Jonathan's journal. Jonathan Gilbert's." He explained, crying out in pain. The brothers glanced at each other whilst Brooke felt a sense of determination flow through her. She reached down and pulled the pencil from out of her thigh, successfully holding back a scream in the process.

Thankfully, there wasn't as much blood as she'd expected, but enough for her to need to hold the wound with her hand in hopes she didn't ruin her tights more than she'd already had.

"Who else is working with you?" Stefan slapped the man's cheek when he noticed him watching Brooke intently.

"Who else is there?" Damon pestered when they received nothing but silence.

"No. You're gonna have to kill me." The man told them and Brooke turned around once she saw Damon's nod, not one for gore. She heard another loud groan, panting and then one last groan which died out into choking on air. He was dead and Brooke scrunched up her face in slight discomfort, wishing she was deaf.

"Is he dead yet?" Brooke slowly spoke up, cautiously turning around and she grimaced when she saw the shrivelled up body of the vampire who almost killed her lying curled up on the ground.

"Wimp." Damon scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief and both Brooke and Stefan sent him a glare, "You might want to get that checked out." Damon pointed towards the wound on Brooke's thigh, practically dismissing it as he walked off after hearing a noise in the hallway.

"He's right." Stefan reluctantly agreed once Damon was out of earshot, turning to Brooke and she looked up at him, her brows scrunched in confusion.

"Why aren't you affected by my blood?" She asked in the most blunt and random way possible, pulling her hand up from her wound to show the fresh blood spread across her palm and fingers. Stefan looked down at her hand, his breath hitching in the back of his throat but he didn't feel any urges, nor did his veins appear from under his eyes. He felt normal.

"Uh..." Stefan cleared his throat, unsure of what to say as he looked up from her bloodied hand to her face, "I don't know."

"Is that supposed to happen? Isn't this weird? Does this mean I'm some sort of supernatural creature with super magic powers? Because if so, why have I almost died, like, ten times?" Brooke rambled on, and she was sure that at this point, after all of the chaos and drama and death and destruction, she was definitely going insane.

Stefan placed his hands on Brooke's shoulders, giving her a sincere smile, "No, I don't think you're some sort of supernatural creature with super magic powers. You're just Brooke. You're unpredictable." Stefan reassured, chuckling a little under his breath and Brooke nodded in understanding, though she was still confused.

She pushed the questioning thoughts to the back of her mind nonetheless and smiled up at him, "So... What are you gonna do about this guy?" She hesitantly glanced over at the dead vampire, immediately regretting her decision when she saw his grey corpse, causing her to shiver.

"That's for me to know and for you to not know. You should go home and clean up." He suggested, a smile still evident on his lips as his hands dropped from her upper—arms to his jacket pockets.

"You suppose I'll walk home? Or, even worse, run?" Brooke rolled her eyes and took a step back, almost tripping over a pencil, "If I die, I'm blaming you, Steffy."

"Wait outside, I'll be there in ten." Stefan told her, pretending to be annoyed and she smiled, pushing the doors to the dark cafeteria open, heading into the hallways.

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