Chapter 2: Shi Ne, Maria!

(( I do not own the PPC.  I do not own The Vampire Diaries.  That series is the property of L.J. Smith.  I do not own ‘Marie, by Medusa Descouedres, the fic that is parodied in this chapter.  The chapter, "Shi Ne, Maria" is supposed to be a play on "Ave Maria", but I’m sure I’m the only one who understands it.))

Gabrielle Gregory, also know as Gabs to her friends, or Gabriella to the more formally-spoken of her acquaintances, tossed her long, dyed-black hair and let out a sigh. Well, that hadn’t been so bad for their first mission.  The Marty Stu had died easily, neither of them had gotten hurt, and none of the canons had caught sight of them.  Sure, they were both soaking wet and covered in mud from digging pits in which to hide the bodies, but she felt exhilarated and very self-satisfied.  Their first mission was a success!  And she hadn’t even needed to bring out the Bleeprin™ !

"Oh, MAN I need a shower," she whimpered as she headed for the bathroom. "Clean. Hot. Forty minutes or more. Mmmmm…." She reached for the door to the bathroom.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEP! BLOODY BEEP, ALREADY! BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! HEY, PAY A-BLOODY-TENTION, WILL YOU? BEEP!!!


Snarling wrathfully, Gabrielle’s partner, Ice, stormed over to the space behind the consol and reached for the plug.  Gabrielle’s eyes widened and she took three running steps toward him, leaping and tackling him away from the cord.  They hit the poured cement floor with a crunch and she smacked his hand in reproach.

"Don’t touch that!" she snapped. "We can’t unplug the console or we’ll lose the information!"

"What a tragedy," he sneered, and she made a disgusted noise as she shoved him away and climbed into the chair. Her fingers danced across the keys and brought up the screen. She went pale.

"Um, Ice? Remember how you told me before we started this job that you wanted to work in the Vampire Diaries canon?"

He gave her a bored look. "Yes?"

"Well, we’ve got a hot one. Tell me, since when does Stefan have a twin sister?"

Ice’s eyes lit with a predatory gleam and his lips twisted into a barbaric grin as he fastidiously brushed some of the dirt from his arms and t-shirt. "Since never," he growled, fingers flicking in anticipation. "Let’s go."

"Not so fast, hot-shot," she chided.  "I’m sure we can squeeze in a shower first."

HEY, WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?  CAN’T YOU HEAR ME?  I SAID IT’S A FRELLING EMERGENCY, PEOPLE!  GET HOPPING!  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!


Ice folded his arms across his chest, unnaturally blue eyes glaring up at the console from beneath strands of frost-white hair. "I have a hammer," he said, his voice deadly quiet.

The computer fell silent, but it would not be entirely dissuaded.  An oblong, black portal appeared over the section of the floor that seemed to have become the landing pad.  Ice gave it half a glance and rolled his eyes.  "Shower and change," he told his partner, "quickly.  I’ll read The Words and brief you in transit."

"Roger that," she called, shooting him a wink and a grin as she slipped into the bathroom.

Ice, meanwhile, was eyeing the computer with suspicion.  Machines were not generally telepathic, but he was receiving some very definite signals from this one, piggy-backed on a surge of emotion.  That emotion was annoyance.

"You can be still, be quiet, and wait patiently for our pleasure," he told the computer icily, and for a moment the screen almost seemed to shiver.  Satisfied that he had properly intimidated the cheeky machine, Ice stepped away from the console and eyed his clothing with distaste.  Mud stained his comfortable, faded jeans and was caked over his bare feet.  His formerly white t-shirt was no longer thus.  Fortunately, he knew a great many ways to take care of that particular inconvenience, and he twisted his fingers into arcane symbols, muttering under his breath.  It was only a small spell, the least of incantations he’d learned when he was just a fledgling sorcerer, but it would serve well enough for this purpose.  The dirt, grime, and water lifted free from his clothes and body and vanished in a golden sparkle, leaving him as clean as if he had taken a bath in bleach, and about as colorful.

Smirking in satisfaction, he settled into the glider/rocker and interlaced his fingers over his stomach, eyeing the console as though it was a particularly succulent meal.  "Now, then," he purred.  "Do fill me in on the details.  I believe I am ready to listen."

***

When Gabrielle emerged, having stolen twenty minutes for her shower instead of the eight she could have kept it down to, Ice was standing with his face inches from the screen, his sculpted upper lip curled back in a snarl, fangs extended as one of his eyebrows twitched.

She blinked.  "Is it that bad?"

"The … INSIPID… VAPID… SHALLOW…."

"It is that bad," she ascertained, padding toward him and wincing as her bare feet came into contact with the frigid concrete floor.  Her hair fell around her shoulders in dark tangles as she tossed the towel on the floor and went to take a look at The Words.  "Hmm.  Well, the writing style isn’t quite as bad as it could be.  She has some potential."

"That would be lovely," Ice growled, "if she had any skill."

"Pssht.  Skill is something you develop as you learn.  Cut her a break."  She rubbed at her stomach, where a droplet of water lingered in the dip of her navel, and patted his hand where it lay on the console, tendons standing out in sharp relief against his pale skin as his fingers remained curled into tense claws.  "We’ll go and kill the Sue and return Damon to his normal self, and then you can take a hot bath.  I’ll personally put together a chamomile and rose hip bath packet and hunt down some nice white pillar candles."

"It will take much bloodshed to placate me after this," he hissed, and she rubbed against his stiffened arm sympathetically.

"You can kill the Sue and her little boyfriend," she promised.  "You can drain them dry and read them all the riot act about how many PPC charges they’ve racked up, and how many Undead Bloodsucking Fiend Society laws they’ve broken, and how her sire was a stupid, selfish bint and her grandsire was a massive, idiotic prick, and how none of them is worthy of the title of ‘vampire’ except for Damon."

Ice considered that for a moment, then turned a heartrending, gorgeous, and unsettlingly hungry smile on her.  "Before we exorcise and neuralise them… I want Stefan.  Then and only then will I refrain from taking my ire out on this building."

She made an enraged noise.  "Ice!  You can’t have the canon characters!  The Sunflower Official would come down on you like a ton of bricks and…."

"And then," Ice purred, "I would come down on him like a literal ton of bricks.  And weed-killer.  I am not afraid of a plant, my dear, and I somewhat resent your insinuation that I should be."

"If you lose this job, you’ll go back to being bored.  Molest somebody else."

He chuckled.  "But he’s so delightfully innocent and pure.  He actually believes he can pretend to be human.  And shattering the illusions of such pretty children is like eating fine cheese.  The more they crumble, the better they taste."

Gabrielle took a deep breath, dug her nails into his forearm, and said slowly, "You may NOT…HAVE…STEFAN.  Understood?"

Irritation flashed in his features and then vanished, and he managed a smirk.  "As you wish, my dear."

She released his arm, not that her nails had had any effect on him worth noting, and went to pull on a sweatshirt over her bondage pants and t-shirt.  Ice watched her go with a stony expression and ran his fingers over the keys to bring the portal back.  "I suppose I’m ready when you are," he said flatly.  "I’ll carry the bag."

She pocketed a device or two and trotted back toward him.  "So, where do we start this one?"  Her tone was uncharacteristically grim, and rightly so – irritating Ice was hazardous to one’s health.

"Immediately after the end of the fourth book," he told her.  "As Damon is (wisely) walking away from the melodrama in the clearing."

She smiled wanly.  "He always was smart like that, ne?"

Ice didn’t respond, instead shrugging a frayed denim jacket onto his frame and straightening the cuffs.  "Ladies first."

Gabs’ head snapped around and she eyed him suspiciously.  Ice was not above petty revenge, and he had been the one to summon that portal.  But he couldn’t kill her and expect his own life to continue, so she gritted her teeth, shot him a glare, and strode through the black oval.

She stepped out onto crumbly, soft earth and tiny weeds that flattened beneath the thick soles of her boots, giving up the aroma of their fluids in a sharp, earthy, pungent smell.  She was surrounded in darkness and it took her eyes a moment to adjust, but she had good night vision and before long she could easily make out the darker forms of trees against the deep blue of the star-filled night.  They stood all around her, tall, old trees with arms that reached out and interlaced with other trees, blocking out most of the sky above her head.  Sounds filtered to her ears, night sounds of birds and squirrels and insects, and human sounds of laughter, celebration, and joy.  Another quick glance around didn’t reveal the position of the errant Salvatore brother, but she wasn’t terribly concerned with Damon at the moment.  Turning, she blinked into the darkness.  It was hard to tell, but was the portal still there?  Brow furrowing in confusion, she spread her hands and waved them back and forth.  She encountered nothing, no ripple in the darkness.  She hadn’t moved more than a step from where the portal had set her, so where had it gone?  And where was Ice?  She made a circle around the space between the nearest trees, searching by hand, and found nothing.

She stifled the urge to growl in irritation.  Irilisan, that bastard!  He’d deliberately disobeyed protocol!  No agent was to enter a story alone.  All missions were to be completed in the company of another agent, or a suitable replacement deputized for that purpose.  He was probably just being spiteful, letting her sweat while he waited a few moments before popping up.  Well, she didn’t intend to let him do that.  She reached for the duffle bag, only to find that she didn’t have it.

~No.  Ohhhhh, no.  No, no, NO,~ she pleaded mentally as she patted herself down and pulled from her pockets the few articles she had chosen to take for herself.  She had the Neuraliser, the Character Analysis Device, and a bottle of Bleeprin™.  No weapons, no Disguise Generator… and no Portal Generator.

This was SO not funny.

"Okay, Ice, you’ve made your point," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her foot impatiently.  "I’m sorry, all right?  I have to obey the rules and make sure you obey them.  I don’t have a choice.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t care if you drew and quartered Stefan and left him for the sun.  Honestly.  Don’t blame me, I didn’t make the rules."

Her only answer was the chirping of birds.

Sighing, she took a glance up at The Words.  "Come on, Ice, the Sue is about to appear any minute, and I know you can hear me.  I thought you wanted to kill her!  Look, I’ll give you the Sue and her boyfriend.  You can torture them, dissect them, drain them, rape them, it doesn’t matter to me.  I’ll cover for you with the Plants.  They won’t know you didn’t go by the book.  Please, just don’t leave me here."

The little begging note in her voice should have done it.  Ice liked to lord it over others, and her petulance and submission should have brought him out of his tantrum.  But he didn’t appear, and Gabrielle began to feel truly angry.

He had left her.

He had left her.

Fingers clenching and unclenching, she took several deep breaths through her nose, shaking with fury, but unwilling to be a slave to it.  He wanted to play this juvenile game, did he?  FINE.  She would start the mission (since she really had no other choice) and whenever he decided to make an appearance, she would be ready with a charge list and one hell of a tongue-lashing.  Except that she had no pencil and no paper, and absolutely no way of killing the Mary Sue.  Since the Sue was a vampire, she’d opted for wooden stakes, but the stakes had been in her duffle bag.

All right.  Slow down, no need to panic, she told herself firmly, managing to feel a little wry amusement at the situation.  First, she needed to take stock of her assets.  She felt around in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt and found nothing.  She then moved to the back pockets of her bondage pants.  Nothing.  Unhooking the front pockets to open them, she felt around.  Her fingers encountered the edge of something papery and her heart skipped a beat.  No, it couldn’t be.  She wasn’t that lucky.  She pulled the thing out and uncrumpled it.  It was a dollar bill, that was for certain, but as for the denomination… she stepped to the side and tried to use the moonlight, for there was a full moon (and it was Summer Solstice, a distant part of her mind remembered), and her knees trembled in relief.  It was a twenty.  A long-forgotten twenty that she had doubtless slipped into her pocket when planning to go clubbing with friends, and buy drinks and pay her own cover charge.  Apparently there had been a change of plans – it could have been any one of many incidents to that effect that she remembered.  What was important was that she had cash.  She was in a modern canon and she had cash, and that made things a whole lot less bleak, assuming that Ice planned to let her languish for a little while before rescuing her.  She would need a small notebook, she mused, and a cheap pen for writing down the charges.  She would also need a lighter, one of those Bic™ disposables.  Fell’s Church was large enough to have its own high school, so there should be a hardware store.  She could buy a dowel, but how to sharpen it?  Knives were very expensive.  She thought for a moment and then the solution became obvious to her.  She had taken wood shop in high school.  It was possible that there might be a wood shop at Robert E. Lee High School.  If so, she could simply slip in during the day and use the belt sander to smooth down the ends into points.  If there was no wood shop, well… she would deal with that then.

Smirking slightly and feeling much more in control of the situation, Gabrielle sat back and scanned The Words.  After the Sue found Damon, she would bring him back to the clearing so that she could show herself to Stefan.  Gabrielle could get plenty of material for her charge list just by being in that clearing.  Two slender fingers tapped against her lips as she considered how to get close enough to listen in.  The clearing was part of a plot of land belonging to the Old Francher Place, she thought she remembered.  There would be buildings.  Tall grass and overgrown weeds and bushes.  Plenty of hiding spots, especially if everyone but the Sue would be ignoring her.

Satisfied with her plan, and hoping that she knew enough about the books to assemble a charge list without having them to read off of, Gabrielle strode into the darkness, toward the sound of laughter.

***

Ice watched Gabrielle step through the portal and slung the duffle bag over his shoulder.  Not many people had the audacity to order him around, but she was his Creator.  There was, quite literally, nothing he could do save obey her or risk extinction.  To be fair, she very, very rarely exercised that power.  Unlike some Creators he could have named, she did not force her creations into sexual acts.  She let them choose their own mates.  She stuck up for them against other Creators even when they were in the wrong, defending their right to BE wrong rather than selling them out. She gave gifts often and almost never gave anything resembling an order.  Indeed, many of his brethren viewed her as something of a mildly annoying, but generally fun little sister, whom they would roll their eyes at in amusement, but happily tolerate.  As masters (or mistresses) went, she was a good one.

So, in all honesty, he shouldn’t have begrudged her this order.  He knew why she had to give it, and he didn’t fault her reasons.  But he simply did not like being treated like a lesser by anyone.  And so he was fully prepared to pout through the entire mission, or until she made overtures of apology toward him.  But as he stepped forward to follow her through the shimmering black gate, reality itself seemed to ripple and the shadows darkened and deepened.  He paused.  The Power that had caused the change had a familiar signature, but there was absolutely no reason for it to be here. What could the Final Darkness possibly want with the PPC?

"You might as well show yourself," he said dryly, stepping away from the portal and gazing around the room until he was able to pinpoint the nexus from which that Power radiated.

The shadows coiled and coalesced before his eyes, wrapping around each other until they had formed a vaguely humanoid figure.  They tightened, and arms broke away from the main mass just myriad strands of silken, black hair floated up toward the ceiling, propelled as if by an updraft.  The shadows over the face and arms withdrew, vanishing into inky black clothing and revealing pallid white skin and facial features so beautiful, so exquisite, that it literally pained the human heart to look upon them.  Black eyes danced with rainbow depths and that soft hair shone with highlights.

Ice was not impressed.  "Nice entrance," he said dryly.  "But make the exit quicker, would you?"

The creature ignored him entirely, taking a few steps forward and looking around the room.  "I know I sensed her here," he said softly, his voice the silken caress of seduction and the hiss of the lying serpent wrapped into one lilting tone.  "Where is she?"  He turned to Ice, delicate features emotionless.

Ice’s eyes narrowed.  "What do you want with her?"

"The same thing I have always wanted," he purred, tilting his head slightly back and favoring Ice with a sensual smirk.  "But now that I see you here as well, I might be persuaded to change… desires."  He swayed with sinuous grace, stepping closer to Ice and circling left.  Ice stayed between him and the portal, and the creature laughed.  "Don’t want me at your back, Isa-Born?  Funny.  As I recall, that’s your favorite position…."

"Same old song, same old dance," Ice said dryly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk.  "Same old answer."

"It doesn’t have to be that way, you know.  We made such a magnificent team."  Those black eyes glinted with strange lights and the sparkle of a thousand hidden promises.  "All the world and even the gods trembled at the thought of what we might do together… Irilisan…."  The name rolled off his tongue in syllabant tones.

To Ice, it was like hearing crystal-clear water drip from an oil slick.  "You are pathetic," he purred in return, grinning ferally at the shadowed being as he circled.  "Always pining, always begging.  Just one more toss, just one more rampage, just one more romp between the worlds, flirting with death and the wrath of the gods.  Accept it, Fell.  You don’t have me, and you won’t have me unless I’m too drunk or drugged-up to know better.  You’re a dalliance, a pretty treat with no real value.  And you most certainly have nothing that I want."

Fell’s eyes narrowed and his smile was as sharp as a rapier blade.  "Well, if that’s how you really feel," he crooned, "then I suppose I should get on with my errand.  Where is the Lady Fate?"

"I’ll ask you again.  What do you want with her?"

"And I’ll tell you once again, my darling, because you so obviously do not listen."  Fell stepped in close to Ice, slender arms draping around his neck.  "I want," he whispered, lips brushing the white-haired vampire’s ear, "the same thing that I have always wanted."

For a split second, it didn’t click.  But Ice was no simpleton, and he had survived Fell this long by knowing him as he knew all his enemies, inside and out.  What did Fell always want?  As soon as he asked himself that question, the answer was simple.  And as he realized how Fell had decided to obtain that something, his eyes widened in shock.

Fell was laughing, a beautiful, mad sound that could put terror into the stoutest human heart, but while he was busy laughing, Ice was moving.  He gathered his Power into his body and then sent it exploding outwards, a burst of force aimed forward.  Fell, who was pressed against him, was caught in the Power surge and was knocked back, thrown across the response center and into the wall as if smacked by a giant fist.  He hit hard enough to crack the cement and dust rained down, adding a bit of color to his darkness.  But Ice didn’t wait to see what sort of effect the blowback had on his rival.  As soon as Fell’s body was no longer touching his, he spun and leaped for the console, fingers stabbing at the keys.  The portal shrank and then vanished.

Fell picked himself up and fastidiously brushed the dust from his body, eyeing Ice with cold, black hatred in his gaze.  "She went through a gate?" he ascertained, eyes flickering up toward the console.  He arched back, Power gathering and then flaring out to summon the very shadows to his call.  Thick tendrils of liquid darkness spewed from every wall and struck like snakes, wrapping around Ice’s limbs and torso and dragging him away from the console.  He struggled, but in this, at least, Fell was more powerful than he was.  His mastery over his element was superior to Ice’s, and his element was stronger, more plentiful.  Irilisan snarled as he fought to pull free of the tendrils.

"Where would you have sent her, I wonder?" Fell mused, sauntering lazily toward the console even as Ice snapped a tendril, only to have that hand immediately restrained by another.  "To what universe now, does our Mistress go?"  He began to read The Words and reached out to scroll the screen up, where he would be able to read the heading and notes from the Information Department.

Ice did the only thing he could think of at a moment’s notice.  All things considered, it was a brilliant move, if only for its simplicity.

Reaching out with the limited power he had over matter and energy, telekinetically compressing the tiniest of particles further than normal physics would allow, he threw up a shield around Response Center #8123… and drove a mental wedge down the center of an atom.

Fell was utterly unprepared for this sort of destructive assault.  The explosion began almost directly in his face and he had no time to react before the very air seemed to erupt with fire, light, and the dreaded electromagnetic pulse.  Ice, of course, had been expecting his surprise, and he measured his movements in fractions of a nanosecond, time seeming to slow to a standstill as he sped his perceptions.  The force of the explosion ripped into Fell, incinerating his physical form and shocking him into loosening his hold.

With the Final Darkness’s mental hold on him weakened, Ice willed himself away to another location, reappearing just outside the door of their response center, outside the telekinetic shields he had set up.  Bracing his hands against the wall to aid himself in any way possible, he envisioned that shield as a square box that contained only Response Center #8123 and as the explosion continued to ripple outward, he held that box, forcing it to contain itself within those boundaries, stopping the shock waves before they could go any farther.  His success was not complete.  The entire building began to shake and plaster rained down from the ceiling as the beams and struts creaked in protest.  He gritted his teeth and reinforced those barriers.

The EMP got past him.  The electronics in all response centers from #8000 to #9000 (most of which were, mercifully, not in use as the PPC was grossly understaffed) promptly failed as two floors lost power.  But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and that tactic would leave Fell incapacitated for quite some time.

Kill him?  Oh, no.  That couldn’t be done, not by Ice, as he’d learned long ago.  But incapacitated was still a good thing, especially if Fell was planning what Ice thought he was.

The walls stopped shaking.  The sound of the explosion died out.  Ice took a shaky breath and lowered his hands from the wall….

… and promptly passed out where he stood.

***

Trekking through the forest was not an activity for the out-of-shape.  Despite the fact that she had once been an athlete, Gabs had long since let her body go to seed and she was suffering for it now.  Since her student lifestyle was mainly sedentary, she had fallen into the habit of eating one meal a day, usually preservative-laden microwaveable fare.  She kept telling herself she would go to the YMCA and swim, like she used to, but never got around to actually doing it.  Now, she didn’t have the energy necessary for fighting her way through brambles.

She was, however, stubborn and she kept at it until she finally emerged from the trees and stumbled as the ground abruptly sloped downward, away from her feet.  Sliding on the wet grass (Elena had made it rain to put out the many fires Klaus had caused with his lightning strikes), she stifled a yelp as she fell on her ass and scrambled sideways, to firmer ground.  Fortunately, the canons took no notice of her.  The Francher Place itself was little more than scattered stones in the shapes of foundations, a piece of wall still intact here and there.  Flowering vines and brambles covered those pieces, and the chimney stood tall and mostly whole not so far from Gabrielle.  That was where Caroline had been tied, but she was not there now, and not even an indentation in the weeds was left to mark her presence.  Caroline stood now in the center of the clearing, along with Bonnie, Meredith, Matt, Elena, and Stefan, part of their celebration as they rejoiced over a miracle.  Gabrielle eyed them until she spotted Elena and her upper lip curled back.

Idiotic blond bitch.

Gabrielle did not like Elena.  Elena was the epitome of popularity, the kind of girl who had made Gabs’ life a living hell from fourth grade to twelfth.  She used people, she was selfish and manipulative and shallow, and she thought she was going to get married when she was seventeen.  She put her friends through hell without so much as the grace to say thank you, or apologize, at least not until the fourth book where she’d been a ghostly angelic figure with the wisdom only death could give a person.  And then she’d been resurrected for the sake of true love?  Most of Elena’s characteristics pointed toward one thing, in Gabrielle’s opinion: Sue.  Elena was a published Sue.  It had happened before a million times and would happen again.  Personally, Gabrielle had been satisfied with Elena’s death at the end of  The Fury.  She felt it had redeemed the girl somewhat to at least give up her life for others, in a meaningful way.  But her resurrection made the entire thing pointless.

She shook herself.  She was getting off-track.  Those broken pieces of foundation made perfect hiding places if she could sneak in, and since no one was paying any attention, that shouldn’t be too terribly difficult.  Moving with agonizing slowness, chanting the patience mantra in her head as her entire being protested her slow, measured strides, she crept up behind one piece of wall and made herself comfortable behind it, where she would be able to see and hear by peeking around.  There was movement on the far end of the clearing and then two slender figures emerged, one broad-shouldered and masculine, one curvaceous and feminine.

"And so it begins," she murmured with a wicked sort of glee, settling down to watch.

She had missed the Sue’s slaughtering of Damon’s character (he fluctuated back and forth between mostly IC and grossly OOC throughout the story) and her narrative.  The narrative had contained plenty of ripe material for the charge list, some of which was now being made apparent.

Jet black hair tumbled to her hips, silken and shining like that of her ‘brothers’.  Though her eyes were not visible in the dim light, Gabs knew them to be ‘some color between green and black’ which changed depending on the Sue’s mood.  She would have put that on the charge list, except for the fact that it would have been hypocritical.  Gabrielle herself had brown eyes that changed from near-gold to near-black, depending on her mood, and she was perfectly human.  So she refrained from using ‘amazing color-changing eyes’ as her first charge, and instead selected a much better one –
being Stefan’s twin sister.

The Sue, accompanied by Damon who looked as though there were a million places in the world he would rather be, walked up behind Stefan and tapped him on the shoulder.  Turning, Stefan’s eyes widened.

"Marie?" he gasped.  And then he did something that had Gabrielle digging her nails into the unforgiving rock and struggling not to leap from her hiding place and strangle the Sue for her abuse of canon characters: he passed out.  Stefan, who had reacted with shock (but very conscious shock) and joy when at first seeing Katherine alive, who had dealt rather admirably with the prospect of ghosts and werewolves, who had faced down an Original without batting an eye, fainted at the sight of his presumed-dead sister.

It was pure Sue-power.  The mind boggled.

The Sue and Damon exchanged words, and then Bonnie thought to demand, "Who are you?"

"What do you want with my boyfriend?" Elena added.  Apparently, the fact that said boyfriend had just passed out didn’t bother her at all, but she felt threatened by the Sue’s beauty.  Despite her low opinion of Elena, Gabrielle gave her credit for being a bit more genuine than that.  It was difficult to aim the Character Analysis Device from a distance, but she pointed it at Elena and pressed the button.

>>> ELENA GILBERT, CANON, 32.8% CHARACTER BREACH


"
That’s not terrible," she muttered as she aimed it a bit lower, at the dark-haired vampire who lay sprawled on the wet grass.  "Probably because she ignores Elena throughout most of the story."  She pressed the button again.

>>> STEFAN SALVATORE, CANON, 57% CHARACTER BREACH

Her eyes widened as she turned the device toward Damon, where he stood behind the Sue and a little further back, apparently trying to keep his distance while still allowing the Sue to hang onto his hand.  At least until Matt inquired as to the closeness between the siblings and Damon stepped forward, wrapping an arm possessively around the Sue’s waist and purring a reply.

"Yes, Matt.  We are very… close."

"I’m all for sibcest, but it’s Stefan you ought to be molesting, babe," Gabs grumbled as she winced and pressed the button.  Protective Big-Brother Damon:

>>> DAMON SALVATORE, CANON, 22.9% CHARACTER BREACH

She sighed, a little relieved.  "At least I can count on somebody behaving as they’re supposed to in this fic.  But the main reason behind the character breach is his protectiveness of the Sue.  Which means he won’t let me near her.  Kuso."  Damon was five centuries old, calloused and cruel, and incredibly Powerful for the relatively short amount of time he’d been alive.  If he got between Gabrielle and her target, he’d make short work of the PPC agent and probably scatter her pieces across the entirety of the Eastern Seaboard. 

Though she had already matched the Sue to several dozen defining characteristics from the Mary Sue Litmus Test Series, for the sake of procedure, she pointed the Character Analysis Device at the woman.

>>> MARIE SALVATORE, NON-CANON, MARY SUE!!!
The device declared, letting out a shrill, warbling noise.

The Sue’s head shot up and Gabrielle quickly snapped the back panel off and dumped the batteries into her open hand.  The sound stopped and slowly, the Sue relaxed, though she still glanced around warily.  Somebody suggested that they take Stefan somewhere and wake him up, and Gabrielle quickly pocketed the device and got her feet under her, glancing up to scan The Words.  They were headed back to the boarding house.  They seemed to plan on walking, probably taking the path that Matt had used at the end of Dark Reunion.  That was fine with Gabs.  It made it easier for her to follow them.  Crouching behind her bit of cover until they all stood up and made their way into the trees, once the last dark silhouette had vanished, she slipped out from behind the stones and fell in behind them.

Gabrielle had no real training in how to move silently, so it was fortunate that the two canon vampires, whose hearing was undoubtedly sharp enough to hear a pin drop half a mile away in these woods, would ignore her unless the Sue pointed her out.  It was also fortunate that the four humans in the group were making plenty of noise that masked the noises Gabs was making.  Marie was carrying her unconscious twin, thus keeping her hands full, which meant she couldn’t hold hands with Damon anymore.

That was probably a good thing, for the sake of Gabs’ sanity.

The boarding house suddenly appeared before them and the canons, plus Marie, filed inside and upstairs.  Mrs. Flowers was apparently absent.  After a brief description of the way up to the attic level, which was stolen almost verbatim from The Awakening, chapter seven, the Sue laid Stefan down on a bed and they all froze for five minutes, doing and saying nothing, until he stirred.  Gabs didn’t bother chasing them up to the top floor, instead sitting down on the front steps of the boarding house and following along with The Words.

She read along with slight boredom as Stefan almost fainted again upon seeing his long-lost ‘twin’.  Damon referred to Marie as ‘baby’ and Stefan explained that this was because Marie was the baby of the family, despite the fact that ‘baby’ was not in use as a nickname during the early fifteenth century, the only period of time in which Marie had been alive.  ~
Historical Inconsistency,~ she noted, making a mental note of that for the charge list.

Damon favored the Sue with a ‘real smile’, the kind which he apparently always gave to her, as she confessed that she had done nothing for the past five hundred years save follow her brothers around and spy on them.  "Because really," Gabs snorted, "brothers are such wonderful creatures, though I wouldn’t know, never having had them.  And I somehow doubt that this author has them, otherwise she would know better."  Siblings might ultimately love each other, but they did not view each other through rose-tinted glasses.  They fought, they disagreed, they got in each others’ way, and they annoyed the hell out of each other.  Look at Damon and Stefan, for crying out loud!

The Sue’s discourse on how she had spent her life, however, would prove to hold a wealth of material for a charge list.  So she kept reading, back pressed uncomfortably against the rust-red brick of the boarding house walls.

Apparently, the Sue had been born sickly and small and had suffered her entire life from a wasting illness.  Gabs rolled her eyes and put a mental checkmark next to ‘
the character has some sort of disease or disability that causes the canon characters to feel sorry for her and cater to her, but does not truly hinder her in the long run.  Katherine apparently made her a vampire, and Gabs paused for a moment, trying to work out the timeline of this.  Katherine had come to Florence with her father, and she and Stefan had shared a romantic summer together.  And then Damon had come back from the University.  Marie would have to have died after that, except that after that, things had gone by very quickly thanks to the competition between the two brothers.  And Gabrielle was very sure that had a sibling of Stefan’s died during that point in time, he would have mentioned it.  Especially if Katherine had turned her.  Not to mention that, according to Marie, both Damon and Stefan had seen her after she was turned, had watched her get up and run from her crypt, then grab a servant girl and drain her dry.  So why had either of them been surprised when she had shown up again?  It made no sense.

"I smell a plot hole," she grumbled.  "A huge, gaping plot hole.  It smells like sewer."

"The year was 1506," the Sue said.  "It had been twenty-five years since I last saw Damon and Stefan."

"Hold the phone," Gabs said, blinking.  "Elena said Stefan was born in the fifteenth century.  How can it be 1506 and yet only… oh, bugger it.  One more plot hole, and I’m putting ‘
mucking up the timeline on the charge list."

The Sue went on to claim that she had faked her own death (which still didn’t excuse her from making Stefan faint) and had rampaged through the world, becoming famously known as the assassin Liona, "lioness".  She had her portrait done by Leonardo da Vinci and met Michelangelo. 

"So she stuck around Italy?  SO DID STEFAN!  How did he not know she was alive, if he can sense others of his kind?"

Apparently the Sue had gone from Florence to Venice to Milan, where she encountered Damon, who was operating under the pseudonym ‘Crow’.  Not ‘The Crow’, but simply ‘Crow’.

"
Giving Damon a retarded nickname when he needs none," Gabrielle mumbled, still assembling a mental charge list.  "And ignoring his accepted fandom nickname, Damon ‘The Demon’ Salvatore."

She read a little longer, then snorted and added, ‘
Making Damon behave like a weakling idiot who keeps human thugs and has a third-grade vocabulary.

The Sue continued to talk (for three chapters.  When did it end?), spelling out her adoption of her male lover, Daniel, and her meeting with her female lover, Isabelle. How she had saved Stefan from himself without revealing her identity (unlikely), how she had learned magic and glamour spells (*snort*), and how this Isabelle had fallen in love with her, knowing she was a vampire and a vicious killer, after speaking to her for a mere few hours (*cough*slut*cough*).  Apparently, the author thought it would be new and edgy to make the girl bisexual, as though this somehow set her apart from the rest of the Mary Sues out there.  She went on and on about it in the ever-present author’s notes.

Gabs muttered under her breath and swallowed two Bleeprin™ tablets without the benefit of water.  "Being bi is nothing special," she muttered. 
"I’m bi, for the goddess’s sake.  And the gypsies would not have named you something idiotic like the Black Death.  The Black Death killed twenty-five million people in Europe, and I somehow doubt you’ve matched those numbers in a mere five centuries, chit."

And then, of course, the Sue and her newfound lover fell immediately into bed and had a threesome with the Sue’s previously Turned male lover.  Just like before, the Sue Turned her female lover after knowing her for less than a day.

"Stupid bint."

Isabelle then died tragically, an outcome which Gabrielle could have (and had) predicted since the woman had first come up.  She responded by angsting and running into the arms of anyone who would take her, for comfort sex, coupled with a vicious killing spree that left rivers of blood in her wake.

"Oh, naturally."

And after her fiancé’ found out and understandably served her her walking papers, she turned instead to searching out her two beloved brothers, because surely they would pity her when no one else was nice enough to do it.  Her fiancé eventually took her back, on the condition that she never cheat on him again.  He didn’t seem to care whether she killed or not.

"Strange man," Matt observed.

"Hel-lo, vampire," Gabrielle hissed, smacking her skull against the bricks.

The Sue then seemed to realize how late it was getting.  Indeed, dawn would come before too terribly long, assuming the Sue didn’t bend time.  Given the amount of time spent in the clearing, and the fact that it was Summer Solstice and the shortest night of the year, and the fact that the Sue probably wasn’t paying attention to the passing of the light, it was reasonable to assume that after her painfully long historical monologue, the sun would soon peek over the horizon.  Which meant that stores would be opening and Gabrielle could start getting her supplies ready, but to do that, she would have to stop tailing the Sue as she took all the characters to her mansion which was, for some reason, in town. Gabs scanned The Words and shook her head.  A ‘tall black mansion’?  Shouldn’t be too hard to find.

Standing and stretching her stiff, sore muscles, Gabrielle brushed dirt off the seat of her pants and stepped onto the narrow, winding driveway that led up to the boarding house.  It was a long walk into town, but it was a warm Virginia night and she had time.

The gravel crunched too loudly under her thick-soled boots and she winced, glad that the Sue hadn’t emerged from the house yet.  She would get a blister walking all the way to town in these boots.  And, she remembered, Tyler Smallwood was still out there somewhere, in wolf form, having fled the Francher Place much earlier.  Walking alone, through the woods, in the dark, was a bad idea.

Gabrielle gritted her teeth, straightened her shoulders, and marched.  Screw danger, screw Tyler, and screw the dark, ominous woods.  She had a job to do.

***

[Paradise City, PPC District]

The room was quiet and peaceful. Said room was the headquarters of the Department of Random Assassinations: Paradise City Division, Response Center #Whatever. Well, they surely had a number somewhere, but it had never been concreted. There were a great many things about the Para-city crew that had never been concreted, the least of which being things far stranger than their number. In fact, the Department wasn't really sure they were actually under the orders of The Plants... but hey, they sure as hell weren't getting -paid- for this. It was volunteer work. And what did it say about them that they chose to murder people for community service?  THAT looked -great- on a college application.

These cynical thoughts belonged to Dorian, who was perched in the all-too-uncomfortable wooden chair with his lute in his hands. He was probably playing, but he didn't notice; if he was, it was very softly. Sarah was curled up in the other chair like a kitten, arms tucked between her chest and her knees, out cold. That last mission had taken quite a bit out of them; the Potterverse was -tough- these days. He shook his head, making a mental note to -never- get in the way of a killing curse again. Immortal or not, those things frelling HURT.

He was adjusting his grip on the instrument, contemplating actually playing something, when the computer piped up. "People, we've got an emergency in Response Centers 8000-8999. All the power’s out." He stood, setting the lute on the chair behind him as he sauntered closer to the console. It was flashing a grid at him, part of it blinking in red. "Electromagnetic radiation leaking from the 8000-block!" it shrilled. Dorian winced, but it was too late; Sarah had awoken.

She sat up with a lazy blink, one hand lifting to push long, thick, fluffy chestnut hair that was usually tamed by a braid out of her face. "What's the matter, Dori?" she asked, yawning.

"Not sure," he muttered tersely, "but it doesn't look good." The computer continued to talk at them, and she stood, hobbling over to peer over Dorian's shoulder. Once her fuzzy, contact-covered eyeballs focused enough to see, they widened, and she cursed under her breath. Then she froze, one hand halfway to Dorian's shoulder, breath stilling in her throat. After a moment, she managed to speak.

"Dorian, what's Gabs' number?" she asked, in a tonelessly low and all-too-emotionless voice. The blonde stared at the computer.

"Eight-one-two-three," he whispered.

The recliner exploded behind them, showering the room in chunks of wood and stuffing. The metal remnants were a smoking pile, charred, twisted and blackened, and the floor beneath was cracked and pitted. Dorian glanced up at Sarah with a look of barely-suppressed terror on his face, but still he spoke. "Sarah, you have to calm down. You own reality here. You'll tear us both apart, and then we won't know what happened."

Apparently that was the right thing to say, as Sarah shut her eyes and took a deep breath. The room twisted, and with a gut-wrenching twitch, the recliner was once again whole - even if the room did still smell of burnt metal.

She opened her eyes again, which were incredibly green at this point. It was an odd thing, but when she was upset or depressed, they tended more to green; it might have been simply because their bloodshot appearance made the green stand out by contrast, or something stranger. When she got pissed, they were decidedly more brown, but at this point, all she knew was fear. A growling feeling in her gut made her desperately want to cry for no reason whatsoever. Her intuition was usually not so vocal, and gods, what if Gabby was hurt? What if something really bad had happened? The computer was chirping about electromagnetic radiation. That would have -liquefied- Gabs. And -any- situation involving Ice was inherently dangerous. Gods be damned, if this was all his fault she'd KILL him, immortal vampire or not.

She gently pushed Dorian out of the way, knowing that he and computers were best kept separate. Fingers flying over the keypad quickly got her the most recent information, and she mentally thanked Topaz for updating their system and networking the consoles together.

Apparently, power was out in the 8000-block due to electromagnetic radiation. not much had changed, but there were already people there. The information was scrolling by on the screen, and Sarah's eyes locked onto it.

"...It appears that most of the damage is centered on Response Center #8123. The room itself appears to have suffered the effects of a large interior explosion, and cannot be entered at this time. One agent was found and taken to the infirmary; the other has not yet been located and may be KIA."

This time, it wasn't the chair that exploded. No, this time, the entire building shuddered, dust raining from the ceiling as Sarah lit up with a flickering dark energy, the outline of her wings showing up to plain sight as she struggled to control the rage and despair. She wasn't succeeding.

Dorian braced himself and stepped closer to her. The very air itself was thick, and it was like walking through Jell-o. He reached her side just as a great crack ran down the center of the floor, and rather than let her lose it entirely, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. "Sarah, STOP."

The eyes that looked up at Dorian weren't really green. They weren't really brown, or hazel, or any of their other usual colors, either. No, they were -glowing- with a verging-on-unholy sort of light. However, one glance up at Dorian's face, full of badly-hidden fear, and a great deal of her rage melted away, leaving a blackness that was far worse. The damage to the building stopped and the dark aura faded, her wings once again receding entirely to the astral plane as she regained control with a deep breath or three.

"You have to be calm, and you have to think. If one of them is in the infirmary, it's probably Gabs. Nothing could hurt Ice bad enough to land him in an infirmary. And that means she's alive, and probably complaining. As to where Ice is... well, it's -Ice-, he may very well be messing with everyone for fun and profit. Where else could they be than in the Response Center?" Dorian said calmly.

"Well, Kageshima, but I doubt it. They were on duty. Maybe it happened while they were out," she said hopefully, brightening. "Which means he's in a fic somewhere."

Dorian nodded. "Yes. In a fic." He winced. "There's a LOT of fics, you know."

Sarah frowned, pondering this for a moment. "Well, first I'll check the ones I know for a fact that the IGD had logged. She said she was gonna do those first, before any more came in, and I don't think she got through them all yet. And they should be in the computer yet," the girl said, looking vaguely more sane now that she had a mission, a way to make -sure- Gabs (and by association, Ice) were all right.

Dorian managed a grim smile. "Good. You do that - run 'em through the computer, see if any have had a portal programmed to them."

"Yes, and thank the -gods- that the network is real-time and anything they did would have been logged -before- they... well, before whatever happened," Sarah said hastily. "Now, go," she ordered him, pulling the chair - not the recliner, but the normal chair, which said a LOT as to just how agitated she really was - up to the console and calling up the database. Dorian nodded and walked to the door, ordering it to the infirmary in a low voice.

A moment later, he was gone, and the only noise in the room was the clacking of keys and the settling of dust.

***

The large double doors of the infirmary twisted with another of those reality-displacing wrenches, but Dorian stepped through the wavering portal with perfect balance, the doors reforming behind him. Up ahead was the front desk, but he strode right past, relying on instinct and intuition to take him to Gabby. At least, he somewhat hoped it was Gabby; he wasn't sure about -nothing- being able to injure Ice. And if something had laid Ice low, that gave room to the FRIGHTENING idea of just how bad it had to have been... and just what it could have done to Gabs. For a moment, he wondered if he'd return to the Para-city building to find it leveled, but he hoped that Sarah had more self control than that.

Apparently, the infirmary had some of the same qualities as the rest of the PPC, for as he walked along, lost in thought, he soon found himself right where he needed to be. He swept into the room, cerulean eyes instantly alighting on the body laid across a bed. He swallowed hard, eyes taking in the short white hair, the pale skin, the size. It was most assuredly not Gabs. The words that escaped his mouth then were too foul to translate, and he stared at Ice for a very long moment before he realized that something else was wrong. He slid closer to Ice, laying a hand on the vampire's shoulder.

Ice was, ironically enough, ice cold. Now, perhaps that wasn't so odd for most vampires, but Ice was usually lukewarm at worst. Dorian had intimate knowledge of this fact, and as his face lost expression, his hand moved to the vampire's chest.

No heartbeat. By now Dorian's face had banished any trace of emotion, and he was looking down at Ice with a dulled terror in his eyes.

He was dead.

Dorian cursed under his breath. What on earth could have killed Ice? Well, he couldn't be -dead-. He was an Original, and he was -here-, so he was obviously still alive. Just... what was the name for it... in torpor. He wasn't sure if Ice's variety of vampire -called- it torpor, but it was a sleep brought on by needing blood. It was only by wracking his brain for the hundreds of legends Ice had told him over their years together that he recalled this, and it took more searching yet to remember that Ice, being a particularly powerful vampire, needed particularly powerful vampiric blood to revive him with any sort of expediency.

This did not look good.

Well, to be honest, it looked bloody horrible, and Dorian really wanted to give in to despair, but he was simply not the type for despair. That was more Sarah's gig. And, he reflected, wincing, he'd have to go tell her just what was going on here. She wasn't going to like this, not at all, and Dorian knew it. In fact, she probably -would- level the building. He could only pray that maybe she'd found something and would be able to keep acting, even if his part of the mission hadn't gone well.

He turned away from Ice's bedside and nearly yelped with surprise. Somehow, with that silent, creepy skill that all doctors seemed to possess, the doctor for the infirmary had snuck up behind him, and was standing there staring at him.

"You a friend of this boy?" the doctor asked curiously. Dorian wasn't sure who he was, but he thought it might have been Fats-something. Falling back on old habits, the quarter-demon smirked coldly.

"More than a friend," Dorian purred, for the first time in his life wishing that he didn't have to cover himself up with bad innuendo.

"AH.  Splendid.  You might know a way to revive him, then?  The Plants are VERY interested in finding out what happened to his partner.  Word is, the hazard team isn't sure whether breaking into Response Center #8123 is even worth their effort, not if all they'll find is a corpse," Fats ( whose name was actually Dr. Fitzgerald) said, sounding vaguely excited.

Dorian, however, was nowhere near enthused by these words. "...Yairielnto," he hissed, not caring if the expletive was enough to peel paint back on Chankoria, nor that no-one here would know it. "I've got to go." With that, he spun, storming back out of the room and down the halls to those great double doors. The mental call to the Door back at headquarters was a long shot, and hurt, but soon the portal appeared with a sickening twist. He stepped through, and everything fizzled back to its semblance of normal behind him

The doctor, still staring at the space Dorian had been but moments ago, blinked and shrugged. "They're recruiting stranger people every day," he said lightly, turning back to his patient and checking the heart monitor one more time.  It was still silent, and showed absolutely no signs of activity.

***

The Door opened and Dorian stepped through onto the dusty floor of the Response Center. Sarah was still curled over the computer, and he stepped up behind her. "Sarah," he started, hesitating.

She stood, spinning to face him, eyes empty. "I know. It's Ice. They just logged it. And the hazard team is waiting for the proper equipment to break into RC#8123. Apparently, the damage the place suffered is most closely related to a high-powered explosion. They'd say it was nuclear if they didn't know better." She spoke in a voice that was surprisingly light and level. Dorian knew that this was a bad thing, and stepped closer to her.

"Sarah, come on, it can't be that bad. She's not dead," he said, praying he was right. "She can't be. You'd know. You'd feel it." She looked up at him and blinked once.

"I'd feel it? Is that what this is, then, feeling that she's dead? The wrenching in my stomach that tells me something is -so- wrong that nothing I can do will fix it again? Is that feeling her being dead, Dorian?" Surprisingly, her voice did not raise during this; it got quieter, colder with every word, and Dorian cursed at himself internally. This was nowhere near good. He couldn't let her retreat into herself.

"Sarah, Gabs is not dead. Ice is, or severely out of commission at the least. Did you check the computer? Is she in a fic?" Suddenly it became doubly important that Gabs be in one of the logged stories.

For a moment, sanity entered Sarah's eyes. "There was. A portal into that really bad one about Stefan's twin, a while ago." Could she be there? Gods, she hoped so, she -really- did. Because if she wasn't...

Ruthlessly, Sarah crushed any ideas of just what could have happened to her were she not in said fic. She looked up at Dorian, life starting to return to her visage. "Are you sure she's not dead?" the girl asked in a small tone, desperation entering her entire demeanor.

Dorian managed a tiny, strained smile. "Of course she's not. You -would- know, after all. You're in love with her."

A look crossed Sarah's face, but whatever was conveyed in the fleeting expression was lost. She turned away without a word, returning to the computer. "So we check that fic first, then, right?" she asked lightly, leaning over to prod at the keypad. Getting the coordinates for the fic, she programmed them up. She refused to think about the connotations of what Dorian claimed, or, even worse, what might have happened to Gabs. And asking her intuition, it didn't give her anything on Gabs, which was more good than bad. It was only when she concentrated on the response center itself that she felt she needed to retch.

Dorian nodded at her, smirking slightly. "Yes. Shall I start packing for a rescue mission?"

"No," Sarah said, shaking her head as she stepped back from the computer. "I need to make sure that's the fic she's in."

Dorian raised one fine golden eyebrow, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Alright, I'll bite. How do you propose to do that?"

Sarah smirked, a wicked little expression in its own right and all the more surprising for the usually almost-cute cast to her features. "I can feel her, can't I? All  need to do... is concentrate." With that, she sank into the recliner, shutting her eyes and dropping into a light meditative state that had taken her years to become so familiar with. Dorian just shook his head and started getting things together, knowing they'd have to go -somewhere- before this was all over. He had the foresight to pack a few stakes and other anti-vamp items, seeing as how the canon just might be dangerous, especially because they didn't have The Words.

He distracted himself with that for a while, and was just finishing as Sarah sat up with a little groan, nearly an hour later.

What the girl had done was a sort of vision-quest, but not. When Sarah looked within, she looked to her intuition, and asked it, quite specifically, if Gabby was 'here', here being a precise and rather concrete idea of the fic she suspected Gabby to be in. Her intuition told her yes. It also tossed in the niggling little opinion that she didn't need to think so hard to find someone so close to her heart, and the girl avoided that entire confrontation like the plague. She -always- lost arguments with herself.

"If she's not there, then my intuition's fired," Sarah said, hopping up from her seat. She paused, holding up her hands flat against an invisible wall before her and spreading them. She stared intently at the space that left between them for a moment before bringing them together in a clap. "And her thread's not in this reality right now, but it hasn't -ended-, so she -can't- be dead." She grinned, a bit sheepishly, and wondered why she hadn't thought to check The Weave -before- she panicked. Probably because she was panicking, but that was -logic-, and Sarah and logic... well, they usually weren't left alone together, as one was bound to emerge with bruises and lacerations.

Dorian smirked to himself and nodded. "So are we going in?" he asked.

Sarah hesitated. "Well... I'm not at all familiar with Smith canon beyond much, and I'll probably get us nearly killed half a dozen times just by being there, but... well... I can't just -leave- her there. I've got to know if she's okay, and just what the FRELL happened back there." She nodded with every word she said, seeming to be convincing herself as she went along, and Dorian just smiled, well-used to this aspect of her nature.

"Off with us, then," he said, gesturing to the Door and shouldering the pack full of rescue supplies. Sarah nodded and stepped forward, hands touching the lintel as she shut her eyes and sent it -there-.

Reality twisted once more, the door opening into what looked like a small cemetery, and Sarah stepped through, Dorian hot on her heels. The Door flickered back to its normal wooden state behind them. The response center stood empty once more, although now it looked as though it had suffered through a notable earthquake. The ceiling creaked and a large chunk of plaster hit the floor with a thud.

It would take a while for the dust to settle.

***

Several hours later (during which the Sue introduced Stefan to Daniel even though they should have already met, Damon growled and snarled like a mad dog at Daniel for showing affection to his ‘baby’ sister, and the entire, problem-ridden, poorly-thought-out and impossible plot of the story was revealed in four words [Bonnie is Isabelle reincarnated!]), Gabrielle was making her way toward the ‘tall black mansion’ with a hastily scrawled charge-list, a ball-point pen, a lighter, a serviceable spear (she should have just gone and gotten Klaus’s from the clearing.  He’d carelessly tossed it aside – too bad she hadn’t thought of it in time), and a bag of candy and snacks she’d purchased from the local Shell™ station.  She didn’t know how long she was going to be stuck in the story, after all, and some sugar would do wonders to replenish her energy.  She had already consumed the Chewy Sweet Tarts™ and was now eyeing the Twix™, but she had to save her food for when she really needed it. With luck, she would be pulled out of the story for sure after killing the Mary Sue.  If not… she had a contingency plan.  A very bad one, one she hoped to HELL she didn’t have to implement, but it was better than no plan at all.

Years of hiding from the world by keeping her nose firmly in a book had taught Gabrielle to walk and read simultaneously.  She engaged that skill, catching up on what she’d missed by reading The Words and adding charges to the list.  She certainly looked very odd, a goth girl walking down the street in a classy, Victorian town with a pointed staff tucked under her arms and behind her back, scribbling frantically in a tiny notebook.  So far, the author had committed the crimes of improper grammar, awkward sentence structure, cruelty to the common comma, inconsistent font changes, and unpredictable capitalization.  Bonnie had, apparently, taken the news that she was the reincarnated version of Isabelle with perfect grace and almost no surprise at all, and had immediately become comfortable with sleeping in Marie’s arms.  Given that the original Isabelle had SLEPT with Marie within a day of meeting her, this wasn’t very surprising… but it WAS out of character for Bonnie.  Gabrielle wrote that down. 

She had spotted the house in question after stopping several times to ask random people for directions.  There were no gates, and no discernable grounds, so she began to ascend the driveway.  The sun was overhead, and it was early morning….

…and then, suddenly, it WASN’T.  Gabrielle reeled and dropped to her knees as time sped up and the sun arched overhead, setting and allowing the gibbous moon to rise.  It did not, however, remain, and passed overhead just as quickly.  The sun rose again and froze, the temporal distortion corrected itself, and Gabrielle crawled to the side of the driveway before tucking her head between her arms and violently expelling what little there was in her stomach.

"Oh my god," she moaned as her stomach continued to heave, even after there was nothing else to throw up.  "Oh my GOD.  Ohhhhhhhhhh…"  She rolled away from the bit of spit, bile, and chunks of Sweet Tarts™ on the ground and flopped onto her back on a clean surface (it wasn’t necessarily grass or road or anything, as the author hadn’t deigned to specify).  She fumbled for the bottle of Bleeprin™ and read the label.

WARNING: TAKE ONLY AS DIRECTED.

Further down, it read, "WEIGHT: 110-130lbs, TABLETS: TWO".  Gabrielle weighed 125 pounds.  Popping the cap off the bottle, she removed four tablets and swallowed them down, one by one.

It would take a few minutes for the Bleeprin™ to kick in, so she lifted her head, pushed her hair out of her face, and checked The Words.  She immediately wished she hadn’t.

Bonnie had also remembered a great deal of her past life out of the blue, and instead of having trouble dealing with these memories and reconciling them to her natural ones, she was eating cornflakes and talking about recalling a past life as if it happened to her every day.

Damon continued to eye Daniel with hatred (now, if only he would treat the Sue the same way!), and soon he and Marie would step out of the house to have a sibling-to-sibling chat and do some hunting.

"Hunting in the middle of the day?" Gabrielle wondered, then stiffened.  "Oh, SHIT.  Damon thinks Daniel is the one who murdered Isabelle’s first incarnation, and they’re going to leave the two of them alone…."  She struggled to her feet.  What would happen if she allowed the death of a canon character?  Would Bonnie come back to life when the Mary Sue was dead or would canon be irrevocably damaged?  "It’d be better not to find out," she muttered, forcing her exhausted muscles into a jog.  Her head was still spinning – the Bleeprin™ had yet to take effect.  If only she’d had Bleepka™ instead.  That was vodka laced with Bleeprin™ and hit the system much quicker, carried with the alcohol.  Of course, she was a lightweight, so vodka would have been a bad thing to be drinking while trying to run toward the Sue’s mansion with a big pointy stick.

She stumbled up onto the porch and eyed the door.  It was Lignum Vitae, a fact that the author had apparently found more important than the style or size of the house and grounds. She could see if the butler would let her in, but he was a non-canon and unlikely to be cooperative.  Perhaps there was another way.

~It’s a mansion in Fell’s Church,~ she murmured to herself, closing her eyes and lacing her fingers together loosely as she tried to feel out along the strands of reality.  ~Logic dictates that, since the Sue did not establish a style, it must be Victorian.  This is a Victorian mansion.  It will, therefore, have windows on the first floor – most likely very large ones.  Some of the rooms behind those windows will be unoccupied, since there are not many servants in this house.  These are the laws of reality.  They will fill in the gap left by the Sue.~   At least, she could hope so.

She opened her eyes.  The house seemed almost glad to have someone more clearly define it.  It now possessed turrets and gingerbread trimming, as well as abundant floor-to-ceiling windows.  She favored it with a kind smile – after all, it wasn’t the house’s fault that it had to participate in this travesty of a story.  And actually, given her fondness for the color black, she now found it to be a very attractive house.  One she might have liked to live in, assuming she could have afforded it.

The porch was now gabled and extended all the way across the front of the house, making it very easy for Gabrielle to walk along it and peer in the windows.  Her view was somewhat stymied by delicate lace curtains, but inside she could see the dark gleam of hardwood floors and cherry wood furniture.

No one seemed to be around, and she began to try the windows, hoping for one that was unlocked.  The first three rooms yielded no options, so she turned the corner of the house and moved along toward the back, hopping the banister where the balcony ended and doing her best to sneak through the bushes. 

She peeked carefully around the next corner.  If Marie and Damon were going out to feed, she most certainly did NOT want to run into them.  She didn’t mind giving blood, but either of those two would kill her without batting an eye.  Eyes widening as something occurred to her, she stood her spear up against the side of the house and pulled out her charge list.

"Ignoring Stefan’s moral system by having him completely dismiss the fact that you’ve killed hundreds of people, and insulting Stefan’s intelligence by having him let you and Damon out of the house without extracting a promise from both of you not to kill anyone."

Even as she finished scribbling, she heard the peculiar sound of a well-insulated door swinging open and grabbed her spear, hunkering down into the bushes.

A few moments later, she saw Marie and Damon headed out away from the house, into the forest.  Scanning the words to see how much time she would have, Gabrielle noted with disgust that the two vampires had found a line of bushes and were now calmly waiting for prey to arrive.

"Insulting Damon’s intelligence by having him forget how to hunt, making Damon voluntarily hunt animal blood, saying your mansion was on one of Fell’s Church’s main streets and then putting a forest behind it," she scribbled.  Glancing ahead in The Words yet again, her blood seemed to turn cold.  "Oh, no," she breathed, abandoning caution and crashing through the bushes to swing around to the rear of the house.  Mounting the porch, she grabbed at the golden door handle.  Thankfully, the Sue had not bothered to lock the door behind her, and it opened easily for the terrified agent.  She found herself standing inside an undefined portion of the house, realizing that she had no idea where to find the canon characters.  A quick scan of The Words revealed that they had been last seen in the living room.  Living rooms were generally on the first floor and the Sue had not mentioned the elevator (yes, her house had an elevator) again, so she dashed through the winding hallway, pushing open doors and glancing inside before moving on.  The Sue, with Damon in tow, would attack a stag that had conveniently wandered by and both of them would drink their fill (again, the thought of Damon feeding on animals for any reason other than pure desperation was utterly WRONG to Gabrielle).  That gave the villain plenty of time to somehow overpower Stefan, Daniel, and the rest of the humans and whisk Daniel and Bonnie away.  And given this author’s penchant for angst, if Gabriella didn’t get to Bonnie before that happened, she might have a dead canon on her hands.

"Goddamned huge houses!" she cursed as she slammed another door and bolted across the hall, not caring who heard her.  "Thrice accursed, gods-forsaken, stupid, senseless, fucking MARY SUES!"

She finally burst into the living room and looked around hastily.  There was Stefan, sprawled on the floor, bound and unconscious.  Matt, Meredith, and Elena were scattered around like dolls, also bound and unconscious. They wouldn’t have noticed Gabrielle at any rate.  Canon characters ignored defenders of the plot continuum unless an OC or Mary Sue pointed them out, or the defender brought attention to him or herself.  Glancing around, Gabrielle noticed the envelope sitting on the table, the deceptive envelope that would lead the Mary Sue to believe that her lover, Daniel, was responsible for Bonnie’s kidnapping and cause her to swear in poor Italian.  Bonnie and Daniel, of course, were nowhere to be found which meant that Gabrielle was too late.  Cursing under her breath in Otaku Japanese, she turned and slipped back into the hall, casting a hunted glance in either direction before making a beeline for the front of the house and stepping out onto the porch to consider her options.  The Sue would take time to wake the canon characters, read the letter, dress herself in an overabundance of "Italian cut leather", all black of course, add a few unnecessary accessories, and then show off to the canons and prove once again her Amazing Sue Powers of Seduction.  By all counts, it had been late morning when she and Damon went out to hunt, and the rendezvous with the villain in the graveyard was supposed to occur at midnight.

Well.  That left Gabrielle some preparation time of her own, though not much.  She scanned The Words carefully and sighed as she realized that most of the twelve hours between noon and midnight passed by with unnatural rapidity due to another of the Sue’s Temporal-Spatial Distortions.  She wouldn’t be able to walk, or even run, to the graveyard in time.

But she could drive.  Marie was about to leave with the canon characters in a black jeep, but she had brought them to her mansion in a limo.  The limo which, thanks to lack of plot definition, was still sitting parked in the driveway.  The chauffer had ceased to exist upon the Sue’s exit.  Really, he was nothing more than a gray, humanoid smear where a person should have been.  Gabrielle took two running steps, slid over the hood, yanked the door open, and waved a hand through his shape to dispel him.  Sliding behind the wheel, she slammed the door and brushed her hand over the ignition.  The keys were still in it.

"
Utsukashii na
!" she hissed in glee, twisting the keys and adjusting the automatic gear shift.  "Yoshi!"

She had never driven a limo, and this was a stretch.  But she didn’t particularly care what happened to the car, or what she hit.  She had to get back to the graveyard, and given the route she had taken from the clearing to the boarding house, and from the boarding house to the mansion, with a fuzzy lay-out of Fell’s Church contained in her head thanks to the books, she had a good idea of where she was going.  Now, if only she could make it before the Sue, aided by Temporal Distortions, managed to get there.

***

"You got us lost in a graveyard."

This disbelieving comment was uttered by Dorian, who stood in the mists of the cemetery, hands on his narrow hips, cerulean eyes squinting into the gloom. He was -quite- irritated. It had been quite some time since they'd arrived, -complete- with gut-wrenching temporal-spatial distortions, and the fog made his beautiful, long, wavy golden hair heavy with dampness. His partner was in no better condition, her short frame slumped with exhaustion.

"You're -supposed- to get lost in this graveyard. It's one of those things. Now come on, even if we just pick a direction and -go-, it's got to end sometime," she said, somehow managing to still be optimistic despite being wet, filthy, tangle-haired and on the edge of a panic. "We've got to find Gabby. And we should go..." she trailed off, shutting her eyes. A moment open those green-hazel orbs flickered open again, and she pointed forward and to their left. "That way."

Dorian would have sweatdropped if this universe had held it within reality. "Wasn't it your intuition that got us lost to begin with?" he inquired delicately.

Sarah gave him a half-annoyed, half-pouting look. "Got a better idea?" she asked testily, setting off and being careful not to step on any graves themselves. It was disrespectful, and besides, in a place like -this- the dead would probably take quite literal offense and seek revenge. She was not looking forward to fighting undead. She had a holy sigil or two, but it had been a while since she'd been really friendly with any of the goddesses she knew, and so aid was iffy at best. And undead were notoriously hard to kill.

"No, not particularly," Dorian muttered, shaking his head and watching the headstones pass by them. Places such as these made his slightly pointed ears twitch back, and he would really rather not have been there. Sarah, however, seemed determined to ignore the deathly pall of silence hanging over the graveyard, and was singing softly, slowly, a tiny little thread to weave through the fog as they wandered along. Dorian resisted for a long time, but the music was soothing his nerves, and for a moment he resented being manipulated with music. That was -his- job. But, Sarah was just as much of a song-weaver as he was, and she was barely intending to calm him at all. So he let go of the anger and hummed a low descant, sauntering aimlessly along behind her.

It seemed as though the cemetery had some of the same qualities of Paradise City and the PPC complex, for the mist ahead of them seemed to be lightening.

***

She tore at some of her candy as she drove, trying to fuel herself for the fight that was coming.  She didn’t know how soon she’d need the energy.  She went through a Snickers™ and a bag of Reeses Pieces™, and was just cramming the remainder of a pack of caramel creams down her throat when she hit the Fell’s Church city limits.  She had been driving for over an hour, but fortunately, there was just enough description to give her that amount of time.  She broke all the speed limits going through town, not at all worried about police presence.  Ditching the limo on a random side street as close to the graveyard as she could manage, she gripped her spear in one hand and forced herself into a dead run.  Her heavy boots made it difficult, and the CLOP CLOP CLOP sound of the thick soles hitting the concrete made her wince.  No self-respecting HUMAN would miss her approach, let alone a vampire.  She could only pray that the villain wasn’t already there with Bonnie and Daniel.

But it wasn’t quite dusk yet.  She had time, and a distortion.  The villain probably wouldn’t even be up and about until the sun had set.  Vampirism had that effect.  She hit the sidewalk and crossed through the gates, gasping for breath as the sun dipped below the horizon just in time to illuminate the steeple of the old, ruined church in front of her.  It was the site of Honoria Fell’s tomb, the ghost of a Witch and wise-woman, and the place where Elena had destroyed Katherine and sacrificed her own life in the process, thus showing that she DID have a selfless bone in her body, even if her death was dramatic and angst-filled and rather Mary Sue-ish.

It was a summer night in Virginia, warm even if Gabrielle hadn’t been running.  As she slowed to a stop, feet aching from the abuse, she made a few mental resolutions.  First, she would produce an outfit specifically for mission use, and she would draw her guidelines directly from recommendations on the Hunter-net forum.  No more illogical shoes and bondage pants for her.  She needed pockets and sneakers.  Second, she would bring her own weapon in the future.  Get Griss to make one, maybe.  Third, she would bring energy bars and bottled water along on a mission to make sure she wasn’t in the exhausted, but hyper, state typical of a sugar high.  And finally, she would make certain that both she and Ice had every piece of necessary equipment so that she would never be caught without a portal generator again.  Grimacing at the pain in her ribs from running, she stumbled into the church.  She wanted to see the place where Honoria Fell had resided and Elena had died.  She wanted, in part, to touch the bloody smears on the floor where Katherine had tortured Stefan and Damon.  And besides, she had a little time to waste.

~This would be a great place to LARP,~ she mused as she let herself down slowly into the crypt, where it was too dark for her to really see.  She hadn’t brought a flashlight, but she flicked her lighter and took a good look around.  The place had been somewhat cleaned up after Elena’s death, with the forensics teams combing the stones for evidence.  She giggled to think of what they might have found, then straightened and looked thoughtful.  What they might have found…. Evidence….

A plot bunny latched onto her ankle with ferocious tenacity and she didn’t even bother trying to shake it off.  She was intrigued.  There were possibilities here, if she could just manage to avoid a Sue-ish main character.

She poked around a little, mourning the fact that she had no way to save any souvenirs, and then climbed back up the rusty ladder and sat down just inside the door to the church.  The Sue and the canon characters, who had been relegated to being her entourage, would arrive soon.  She was fairly certain that she would hear the jeep before they actually disembarked.

Resting her head against the cold stone at her back, Gabrielle settled in and gave the plot bunny a good work-out.

***

The mists were thick and heavy, but they seemed to have gained some sense of motion, for they eddied around the gravestones, turning every inch of the cemetery not completely fogged into a shifting, dancing land of shadow that baffled the eye and terrified the shit out of paranoids like Sarah. The girl was running low on her third or fourth adrenaline rush, and it showed, and Dorian really only looked marginally better. Every step they took, they were worrying, Sarah over Gabs, lost and ~please gods anything but~ perhaps dead, and Dorian over Ice, who lay cold and presumably dead in the infirmary, and it was wearing on their nerves, making every tangibly cold stroke of fog across some bared part of skin a torment. Sarah kept walking and Dorian kept following, though, because less was a sort of sacrilege. They were both perfectly quiet now, their boots silent on the damp, heavy grass, breath lost in the sigh of the mist. And when Sarah walked past a particularly large headstone, she kept walking for a moment before stopping with a yelp. "GABBY!" she screeched, leaping over the ground ahead of her and bursting through the door of a small, tumbled structure that had most definitely seen better days to stare at Gabs who looked, if not perfectly whole, then at least alive and... not bleeding, from what Sarah could see, which was more than enough for her. Dorian had hung back the moment he'd sensed another life form, standing just behind the headstone and -waiting- like the prig he was for Sarah to realize that the trace had indeed worked quite well. His voice drifted once more through her mind.  ~If you think hard enough about her, you'll find her.~ Apparently, there'd been some truth in that, and Sarah tried to keep from crying (again) at the revelation that Gabby was indeed quite living. And right here.

Gabrielle was snapped out of Reverie by Sarah's squeal and jumped, scrambling to her feet and clutching her pointy stick.  "Sarah?" she queried.  "What in all hells are you doing here?"  She let the stick waver and fall, glancing left and right with minor paranoia, not sure when a Temporal-Spatial distortion might hit and midnight might suddenly arrive.

Deflating with one twitch of her wings, Sarah stared at Gabs for a very long moment. Then, "Ice is clinically dead and RC#8123 is a gutted husk. And you were missing. We thought... we thought...."

"We thought you were dead," Dorian helpfully supplied.

Gabs felt her fingers loosen and the blood drain from her face as she processed that.  There was a dull clatter as the spear hit the flagstones and rolled a few feet away.  Her hands felt numb and clumsy, all of a sudden.  "... What?"

"Ice is lying in the infirmary, flat-lined and breathless. And the Hazard team has just about given up on RC#8123, which shows signs of what -can't- be a nuclear explosion, and the whole eight thousand block's been electromagnetically shorted. And we thought you were dead. In fact, I nearly brought down half of Paradise City thinking you were dead," Sarah supplied, seeming to have hit her third wind now that she'd found Gabby.

Gabby blinked.  She couldn't comprehend that. The parts about a nuclear explosion, she was forced to disregard out of hand.  Priorities being what they were, she focused on the most important thing.  Ice had abandoned her, or so she had thought.  But Ice was apparently in torpor.  Something terrible had occurred just after she had stepped through the portal.  "What happened?"

"We don't know. We hoped you would," Dorian said, trying not to look worried about Ice and failing quite miserably.

She shook her head slowly, dully, feeling dizzy.  "No, I.... I just got stuck here.  I didn't have a portal generator.  We argued and he made me go through the portal first, so I thought maybe he'd abandoned me, because he can be spiteful... y'know…."  Her shoulder was cold.  She realized that she had slumped in the doorway and was now being entirely supported by the marble architecture.

Sarah stepped closer to her, gently sliding an arm around her shoulder to offer her something a bit more yielding and compensating to lean on. "So you're okay?" she asked, concern plain in her tone.

Her immediate impulse was to say 'I'm coming down from a sugar high, I'm stranded, I've been walking everywhere and been thrown around by temporal-spatial distortions, I have no weapons except for a pointy stick, and I have to kill an Old!Vampire!Sue.  Of course I'm not okay!'  But if Ice was SO badly injured, or so drained, that he was comatose, then she had no excuse to complain.  "I'm still in one piece," she said quietly, sounding steadier and leaning briefly on Sarah before straightening up and going to retrieve her stick. 

"Yeah, that seems about all you've got goin' for ya at this point," Sarah muttered, -not- looking pleased with reality as a whole for this one. "I have food and painkillers, should you want some, and we have weapons, portal capabilities, and other stuff. Properly outfitted rescue mission!" She tried to smile, but it fell short. Dorian just hung in the door to the church, quite unwilling to walk on holy ground if he didn't have to.

Gabrielle nodded and brushed back an errant strand of hair or two.  "I don't need painkillers, thanks, but something to eat really quick would be nice.  We don't have much time.  The Sue will be here at midnight, which could come in two hours or two minutes given the instability of the space-time continuum, and she'll have a show-down with the villain.  We can't leave this story until the Sue is dead, but she hasn't been alone since she entered this story.  No matter what happens, it looks like we're going to have to face Damon, at least... possibly Stefan and Daniel, maybe even the villain herself."

Sarah paled at the idea of such a battle, but Dorian's mind was already spinning down the well-worn paths of treachery. "Can we trick the rest of them into killing off the bit characters while you kill the Sue?" he inquired, making Sarah glance up at him, looking like she -wished- it were that simple.

"Damara and Daniel shouldn't be hard," Gabrielle told him.  "Damara is the villain, after all, and she is threatening Bonnie and Daniel's lives.  And Damon hates Daniel rather passionately.  If you can convince him that there's a decent reason, he would probably handle Daniel for us.  However, he and Stefan will both drop everything to defend their little sister.  The Sue has them wrapped around her little finger.  I saw signs of potential incestuous threesome action, y'all.  We'll have to deal with them."

Sarah hefted the pack off her back, belatedly remembering the whole idea of feeding Gabrielle, who was really too skinny anyway. She opened the pack and shoved an arm in it to the shoulder, which should have been physically impossible, seeing as how Sarah was decidedly not Mary Poppins. She pulled out a small basket that held... apples. Several large golden apples. "I've got some other stuff in here, too, if you want," Sarah mumbled, offering the fruit to Gabs. She looked pensive as Gabrielle described the situation and bit her lip in thought. "So we... let the Sue kill her villain. And then... hmm... are we allowed to possess bit characters?" she asked, glancing at Dorian with a bit of a smirk.

"Possess?"  Gabs took an apple gratefully, dipping her head and murmuring "arigato" before biting into it. 

Dorian smirked. He -liked- the way Sarah thought. "I can possess Daniel, attack Marie, use up his body in an attack that will damage everyone, and then revert to this one unharmed and fully energized to do it again. And they'll kill Daniel in the process... and it'll make them jumpy and nervous.

Gabs sighed.  "Y'know, Ice wanted to keep Daniel to play with for a while.... but I guess that doesn't matter at this point."  Swiftly devouring that apple, she eyed Dorian.  "Last time I checked, you were a Defiler, and Defilers could not possess people.  Since, you know, *I* created the race."

Dorian laughed. "No, not because of demonism. Because of a Chankorian ritual," he said, looking rather smug. "A rather esoteric ritual, but seeing as how my mothers run a temple, I have access to all the books I’ve ever wanted to see on Chankorian magic. And besides, I've done this a dozen times. It's much easier to get away with a murder if you commit it in someone else's body."

"You mentioned an attack that would damage everyone?"

"Yes. I can use up his body's life-energies to power extra spells using blood-magic. And spilling the blood won't matter because once the body is dead..." Dorian shrugged carelessly. Sarah just looked a bit hopeful, like it might just do them some good.

"And it will damage everybody?" She verified, folding her arms across her ample chest and eyeing Dorian.

"Are vampires immune to a waterblast?" Dorian countered.

"She doesn't know what a waterblast is, Dor."

"Aquatic equivalent of a fireball," Dorian explained shortly, glaring at Sarah.

Gabrielle blinked.  "Well... I suppose it might sting.  Human teeth can't pierce their skin, so I'm not certain that spraying water, even really hard, would actually damage a vampire."

"It's an energy sink. And... hmmm... just what is this Daniel? How powerful?" Dorian wanted to know.

"He was turned in 1506, according to the Sue's long-winded recollections," Gabrielle told him, absently twirling her spear.  "So, he's approximately five hundred years old as well.  Of course, she screws up her centuries just a little, but it doesn't make much difference.  I'm not sure precisely how powerful Daniel is, but he has the POTENTIAL to be very powerful indeed, compared to us humans."  She shot Sarah a wry smirk.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Human? Please, Gabs, you know I'm anything but. And I wonder about you."

Dorian smiled darkly. "Oh, well, in that case, I can Chain Lightning the driyaln out of them."

"I'm human, believe me.  I'm something like what Yuka is, maybe - a  walking battery."  She broke into a grin, her first real smile since they'd arrived, and tossed her apple core aside.  "So, you want to set off an explosion in their midst and then chain lightning the hell out of them?"

"Yes. And once Daniel runs out of energy and they're milling like confused sheep, you two attack using the fun weaponry and I'll keep blasting. We -did- bring 'shiny sharp things' at Sarah's behest, after all." Dorian smirked.

Gabrielle nodded.  "So you meant to do it BEFORE I went in to kill the Sue."

"Unless you think doing it simultaneously would work better?" Sarah half asked.

Gabrielle eyed both of them for a moment, then sighed.  "Mina no baka."

"Hey, look, I never claimed to be a rocket scientist, just a wanna-be," Sarah said, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt. Dorian simply sighed, pressing a hand to his temple.

"The problem," she explained crisply, but with as much patience as she could muster, "is that we CAN NOT HURT THE CANONS.  Read The Words.  Damara and Daniel are standing right next to a human Bonnie.  The Sue is standing with Stefan, and Damon, and the humans, Elena, Matt, and Meredith.  Those humans won't be able to withstand that sort of damage if you set off explosions and lightning bolts in their midst, and I know I don't need to tell you what would happen if a PPC agent were to kill a canon character."  Her threatening gaze was sufficient to imply it.

"Awww, hells, well that takes half the fun right out of it," Dorian muttered, looking disgruntled. He glanced at Sarah, who looked like she was about to beat her head against the floor.

"I have a crappy memory, you know that," the girl said gruffly, folding her arms over her chest. "If only we could shoot them with silver bullets and have it -work-."

"Didn't you bring the stake gun?" Dorian asked, frowning at Sarah.

"Well, yeah, but... the sniper rifle is -so- much more fun..."

Gabrielle reached over and patted Sarah on the head.  "I do know that, sorry.  Sometimes I get too caught up in my own ego... anyway.  Silver bullets don't work on these vampires.  Wooden stakes work.  Vervain works.  But we won't be able to collect any Vervain in sufficient quantities before they get here.  As for stake guns, the Sue is fast, and I'd rather you didn't fire sharp wooden objects in Damon's general direction.  Our friends and our enemies are too intermixed, guys.  This is going to have to be close and dirty.  Sorry."

"At least we have all the stakes we might need," Sarah pointed out, pulling out handful after handful of sturdy, pointy sticks. "Raided Buffyville for these puppies," she grinned, tucking several of the stakes into the waistband of her jeans and one in her left boot. One even had a loop of leather for a handle, and that went around her wrist. "I am -so- going to regret this after the bruises," she sighed. Then she turned around, putting her back to Gabrielle. "Do me a favor and slice holes in my shirt over my shoulder blades?" she asked hopefully, offering one of many knives that had found their way out of the bag. "Might need to take... desperate... measures."

Gabrielle chuckled.  "Sure, but should I slice through the bra strap too?" she inquired logically as she took the blade and, far too tempted to let the opportunity slide, ran her tongue along the flat of the blade.

Sarah sighed deeply. "Yeah, might as well," she said, pulling her hair forward over her shoulder, smirking at Gabs as the knife was blessed with tongue.

Well, that settled it, Gabrielle mused as she savored the tang of metal and quickly, cleanly, sliced through Sarah's shirt back.  She was letting loose a battle cry to remember when they took on that Sue.  "You should just take the bra off," she said logically.  "It'll be useless if I cut it, and if you take it off, I won't have to ruin it.  And Dorian's already slept with you and I promise not to look."

"Yare, yare," Sarah muttered, arms vanishing into her shirt to twist around beneath it for a moment before one hand emerged with a pale green bra clutched in hand. "S'not like I'd mind too much." The bra was shoved to the recesses of the bag as the girl stretched, giving a little purr. The air behind her thickened and grew heavy as she pulled her wings to the edge of the astral and ever so carefully made certain that if they manifested physically, they would do so through those convenient slices. "Ahhhh... nothing like a good stretch."

Dorian just snorted at her, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't mind, but you'd blush something FIERCE," Gabs teased, snickering at her as she continued to spin her spear, looking entirely too eager to go to war.  "So, are we back at square one with battle plans?  Because we’re burning twilight."

"Spell-darts never miss," Dorian said, and Sarah nodded in agreement, well familiar with Magic Missile. "I can use those, and..." he smiled, stroking the dark green whip that had found its way out of the pack and around his waist with a little smile. "I don't miss, either."

Sarah snorted and clutched a stake tightly. "Right to the left of the spine, between the third and fourth ribs," she said with a bit of a smirk.

"Lovely."  Gabs thought that over for a moment, and her spear slowed in its spinning as she looked vaguely disappointed.  "Dorian, I think you should take the Sue.  Sarah and I can kill the other two.  They're weaker, though not by much."

Dorian smiled wryly. "I know you'd really like to dust her yourself, but considering the sheer difference in our fighting abilities, well, I hate to have to agree with you there. Although I -do- look forward to killing something that can put up a fight," he said, looking a bit dreamy.

Sarah nodded. "You want the villain or the bitch-boy?"

"I'll take the bitch boy.  Given this Sue's penchant for angst, it stands to reason that this Damara will have a chance in hell of standing up to the Sue herself, which would make her the more dangerous of the two."  Her voice was low and even, and she was watching the mists as she spoke, shoulders squared solemnly.  "And since I am human - and nothing but - you've got a better chance at getting the drop on her."

Sarah nodded grimly. "Yeah. Hey..." she paused, glancing at Gabrielle for a long moment before lifting a hand and pressing it to the other's cheek. "Be careful, ne?" Several strong shields were flung around her friend as she offered a strained smile.

"Oh, calm down, babe," Gabs said dryly.  "I'm only going up against a five-century-old bloodsucker.  What could possibly happen?"  She glanced around and then up at The Words.  "I'll think of something, don't you worry.  And if I disappear from the battlefield for a little, don't worry. I'll be back shortly."

"A lot," Sarah muttered, looking quite displeased at the thought. She took a moment to braid her hair tightly and tie it off to keep it out of her way, eyes following Gabby's up to the words for a moment. "You'd better be back, because I'm not leaving here without you, even if I have to track you elsewhere."

"I'm considering luring Daniel and Bonnie away on the pretense of putting Bonnie somewhere safe," she explained.  Having a secret plan of attack was all well and good, but keeping one's allies in the dark was bad.  "And attempting to take Daniel by surprise.  I don't know how skilled of a telepath he is, precisely, but I can veil, so I suppose we'll see."

Sarah nodded. "We've got a disguise generator if you think you can masquerade as Elena." She was rapidly going through and discarding plans, chewing on her lip. How to kill a five-century old vampire with a grudge whose abilities she knew -nothing- about? Piece o' frickin' cake.

"Elena is with them," Gabrielle pointed out.  "Two Elenas would be a little suspect.  No, I'll more likely tell him I'm a member of the PPC.... the Paranormal Protection Coalition."  She smirked darkly.  "And I've been hunting Damara because of her nasty eating habits."

Dorian snorted. "Yes, and that -might- work if a vampire could live to be five hundred without being -incredibly- paranoid."

Sarah elbowed him, glaring fiercely.  "It'll work," she muttered, still giving him the evil eye.  "'Cause if you'll remember, the author is an idiot; hence, all her characters are idiots, and she influences canons to -be- idiots. So it shouldn't be too hard."

Gabrielle gave Dorian a hard smile.  "Let me deal with that.  I still don't know why, but people are generally inclined to believe me, even when I'm lying through my teeth.  And yes, the author's vampires are idiots.  After all, Marie announces ‘Bonnie is Isabelle reincarnated’ and the canons just go ‘oh, okay’.  Bonnie included.  How hard can it be to convince Daniel that I have his best interests at heart, especially if I'm dragging him AWAY from the pointy wooden death?"

"It's part of being one of us. We're all smashing liars," Sarah said lightly, smirking cryptically as she glanced out over the mists. "I think I'll play dead, or something of the sort.  Or just let her drink my blood and watch her twitch and foam at the mouth..." Sarah added lowly, grinning at Gabby. "And you're right, there."

She nodded.  "Daniel IS a bit paranoid, but he seems to do whatever a strong female dressed in black tells him to do.  No worries there.  I'll handle it.  Sarah, you'd better go in first.  Damara is using Bonnie and Daniel as a shield when she shows up.  As far as I know, her back will be rather foolishly unprotected (not that it matters, because miss 'expert' Marie Sue brings her whole cadre in from the front) and you should be able to get decently close for the strike.  Dorian, you'll want to take the Sue out as hard and fast as possible.  Don't give Damon and Stefan a chance to help her, because then you'll be very much dead very quickly.  And don't underestimate Matt, Elena, and Meredith.  They did well against Tyler and stood their ground against Klaus.  Humans they may be, but they're not pushovers.  If you can, strike hard, kill fast, and run like hell.  Don't worry about me.  I can talk my way out of anything and I have a neuraliser."

"So strike and get the fuck outta dodge," Sarah nodded. "Where do we regroup? Behind the church here?"

Gabrielle considered that briefly.

Dorian looked from one of them to the other, marveling at the way their thought processes melded sometimes. He paid attention to what Gabrielle was saying, though. "I'm going to prowl around," he murmured, taking a step toward the door.
"And hopefully I -can- run right up behind her and plant the stake and be done with it," Sarah said with an all-too-optimistic smile.

She seemed about to say more, but reality lurched and Dorian flattened his ears back against his head and let loose a rather feral snarl, tensing his muscles against the roiling that meant his stomach was NOT happy with the tears forming in the Weave. No rolling ship's deck had the ability to unhinge him like this did, and he absolutely hated it. Sarah tolerated it remarkably well, being a mistress of temporal-spatial distortions herself... which was made quite obvious by the plain existence of Paradise City.  Gabrielle yelped and tumbled to the ground with a gasp.  Fortunately, an apple was a gentle meal and her stomach didn't immediately insist on purging.  She managed to swallow the heaves that wracked her body, and quickly popped a couple of her own Bleeprin™.  When the shifting stopped, she lurched to her feet, nails digging into her palm and upper lip curled back in a snarl. 

"No, here is where they’re coming!  We meet up at the boarding house.  Cross the new bridge and walk until you find a driveway... it'll be mostly fields on the way there.  The Sue's here... we're out of time.  We approach from different angles.  Go!" 

Dorian was out the door like a flash, silent as he vanished into the fog. Sarah tossed Gabrielle one last glance before ducking out the door herself, slinking around to flank.  She could -smell- the sickly sweet aura of Sue. She was quite quiet as she padded along, using the mist to cloak her movements and thinking of nothing but the empty grayness with a forced exertion of mental control.

Gabrielle let them get a little ways ahead of her before starting off herself.  She couldn’t move nearly as quietly, and she winced with every crunching footfall, hoping that the vampires would be too focused on each other to hear her circling..  She moved as quickly as she dared, darting from tombstone to tombstone.  The moon shone down upon them and through the fog, a gibbous drop of grayish-white against the deep backdrop of the stars. Gabrielle scanned the graveyard briefly and smirked as she spotted a familiar landmark – like a full moon hovering above the ground, the grave marker of the Smallwoods stood as a beacon in the mist-shrouded cemetery.  Tucking her spear under her arm, Gabrielle slipped behind a tombstone and settled down to wait.
Fortunately, Damon and Stefan were firmly under the Sue’s spell.  The Sue and her court spread themselves around the ruined church, settling down to wait.  They had arrived an hour and a half BEFORE midnight, for some reason, and for all that time, they didn’t make a plan, they didn’t get the lay of the land, they didn’t check their surroundings for traps, and they didn’t speak to each other.  Like dolls, they were scattered about, unthinking and unfeeling.  Gabrielle would have decided to go in then, but she needed the distraction of the villain to distract the heroes.  And she needed Daniel to show UP before she could destroy him.

At exactly midnight, according to the Sue, two figures appeared out of midair and began walking toward the ruined church.  They were alone as far as Gabrielle could tell, and she fought with the strong urge to leap forward and take Daniel out from behind now, while he was so terribly vulnerable.  And really, that was unfair.  Very little of this was Daniel’s fault.  He was fodder, a pretty boy toy for the Sue to wear on her arm, but he actually had the good sense to object to being treated that way.  Gabs couldn’t help almost liking him… maybe he could be redeemed.  But she didn’t have the time, nor the capability, to take him alive.  She shifted and got into position as the Sue reacted first with anger, then with rage to Daniel and Bonnie’s appearance.  She leaped forward and then another female voice rang out.

"Marie!"

The Sue stopped and looked around, and Gabrielle sighed and rubbed her temples as a blonde vampiress with green eyes phased into view behind Daniel and Bonnie, one hand around each of their throats.  "Why is evil always blonde?" she muttered as she pulled out a pen and scribbled down several more charges.  The Sue remembered, in the space of five sentences, tearing out this woman’s throat and turning both her and her ten-year-old son into vampires.  The son, being a child, apparently didn’t understand the importance of hiding his new nature and blabbed about it to the townsfolk.  The Sue killed the ‘demon child’ and staked the mother, apparently unsuccessfully.

"All right," Gabrielle growled.  "First, why do Stefan and the gang accept this heinous bitch?  She has done far too much evil for them to be so kind to her.  Second, what’s demonic about a child being too naïve to know to protect himself?  And YOU’RE the one who Turned a ten-year-old boy!  Third, Stefan nearly died from Klaus stabbing him in the STOMACH with wood.  Wood is deadly to vampires.  If you staked her well enough that you thought you got it through the heart, even if you missed, this woman would be dead.  You’re the true evil here, Marie Sue," she snarled as she capped her pen and slid the notebook back into her pocket.  "And I have to charge her before Dorian kills her.  Shit, shit, shit.  I wish Ice was here.  His plans never have huge gaping holes in them!" she muttered in despair.  Well, then, there was nothing she could do about it now.  They were separated and committed to their respective courses of action.  She would have to wait until Dorian made his move, and then she would see if she could manage the charge.  If not, the Sunflower Official would just have to understand that she had neglected the charges because she had been fighting for her life.

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