#&griefkill.

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@griefkill sent : ❰❰ HURT ❱❱ sender is hurt protecting receiver (dean)

SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE COME. Vampires were one thing but demons ⸻  well they were a whole separate ballgame. There had been more of them on the rise than ever before, at least according to Bobby who'd informed the boys that where a normal year saw three, five tops ; last he'd heard this year was clocking in the high twenties ⸻ and the were hardly into April.

They'd managed, Sam exorcising the hell spawn before it had a chance to finish her off but the fact remained Elena had jumped in on Dean's behalf, taking the brunt of the demons violence in an effort to keep her friend safe. "Lena, hey. hey, hey ⸻  stay with me." Eldest Winchester pleads, frame coming to rest at his knees beside the sputtering Gilbert girl. Just because she was a vampire didn't mean she was immune to being harmed.

The warehouse they'd had their showdown in happened to house an old saw mill ; the result of which saw demonic bastard using all manner of wood chips to their advantage. Fist full after fist full had been stuffed and shoved, the worst of which had been forced down the Gilbert's throat ; a consequence that saw blood violently falling from Elena's mouth, her many lacerations only adding to the panic alight within Dean's chest. He acts without thinking and scoops childhood friend up into his arms all at the same time commanding Sam to bring the Impala around.

They arrive at the motel within the hour all the while Winchester brothers fretting over their unconscious friend. It's only when they're back with Elena resting atop the bed Dean's claimed as his own that they notice something crucial. Through the blood that dries against her chest both hunters can see their friend is missing something she never leaves home without ; lapis lazuli necklace ⸻ without it the Gilbert has no shot at walking in the daylight, she's as good as dusted.

"I'm on it." Sam nods and is out the door faster than Dean can protest. "Sam, be careful!" Dean calls over already closing door. For a moment he's met with deafening silence, clock tick enough to put his every nerve on end. He only faulters a moment before realizing while vampire first aid might not be exactly the same as it was for humans he could start with removing the wood chips that pierce Elena's flesh so violently. Towels are removed from the bathroom, wet with warm water from the sink and dabbed against already drying blood. Emergency first aid kit is produced from the back of the Impala and with tweezers Dean begins removing embedded pieces of timber pulling back only when Elena begins to start. "Hey, hey, hey ⸻  it's alright, you're safe. ELENA ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" 

[shaepschiftarc]

@griefkill sent ❰❰ THREAT ❱❱ sender holds a weapon up to receiver as a threat (sam + reverse?)

THEY'VE HUNTED HER KIND BEFORE, the tracking had been easy, she'd practically erected a neon billboard with the bodies she'd left in her wake. Fells Church seemed to be a beacon for mystical creature, vampires, witches, werewolves ; a hub for all things supernatural. He'd seen it in his research, the ley lines that sung sweet siren song, drawing them here like moths to a flame-- The Winchester's could stay in the seemingly sleepy town for just over a week and solve more cases than they might in a year across the us.

"End of the line, Katherine." The hunter spits, oaken stake level with her chest as his great frame pins her against the wall. Had the protection of the wooden weapon been absent Sam knew she could toss his clear across the room ; but one wrong move and he'd pierce her unfeeling heart ; he just needed the answer to one question. "WHERE IS MY BROTHER?" 

[shaepschift]

CAUGHT: for sender to catch receiver staring at them. (jaskier)

IT'S  DEFINITELY  THE  SAME  GIRL  ALRIGHT.  He's  noticed  her,  of  course  he  has,  at  the  last  two  bars  who've  agreed  to  let  him  use  their  stages  on  slow  nights.  His  music  isn't  anything  revolutionary,  easily  categorized  into  indie  pop  with  some  theatrics  tossed  in.  Of  course  he  wants  to  make  it,  wants  his  name  up  in  lights  just  as  badly  as  any  struggling  artist  does  ;  and  that's  why  he  keeps  at  it.  The  days  are  long  and  the  nights  uncomfortable  but  at  the  end  of  the  day  he's  doing  what  he  loves,  isn't  shoe  horned  into  his  families  bullshit  idea  of  success  .  .  .  no  matter  how  much  money  they  were  all  making  in  the  medical  field.  Julian  would  rather  die  than  know  true  misery⸻      an  empty  stomach  was  nothing  compared  to  a  starved  soul.

In  all  of  his  introspection  she's  caught  him  staring,  but  to  his  delight  she  seems  to  be  smiling,  waving  him  over  as  an  invitation  to  sit  :  gods  she  was  pretty  and  he  was  anything  but  smooth  around  pretty  girls.  "Uh⸻     hi,  hey,  hello."  Fantastic  start  Jules,  really  good,  keep  it  up.  Flush  of  red  crawls  over  cheeks  as  the  artist  wrings  his  neck  with  one  hand,  guitar  gripped  firmly  in  the  other,  already  he  can  start  to  feel  the  palms  of  his  hands  sweat,  threatening  his  grip  on  the  object  that  earns  him  what  little  of  a  living  he  can  manage.  "You⸻     uh,  sorry.  Have  we  met?  You  seem  incredibly  familiar.  GOD  I  HOPE  I'M  NOT  COMING  OFF  AS  A  CREEP." 

@griefkill

[eldestbrcther]

[ 3AM ] a dark graveyard thick with petrichor, well beyond visiting hours.

SHE  VISITS  THIS  PLACE  OFTEN.  Of  course  she  would,  a  human  girl  who'd  lost  her  parents  should  grieve  shouldn't  she?  No,  what's  odd  about  the  activity  isn't  enterprise  in  and  of  itself  but  rather  the  hour  at  which  Elena  has  chosen  to  do  so  ⸻   humans  were  dangerous  all  on  their  own,  never  mind  what  terrible  creatures  should  be  lurking  in  the  dark  :  creatures  like  himself.

Moonlight  reflects  off  crow  feathers,  oil  spill  kaleidoscope  shimmering  in  it's  wake.  He  watches,  avian  anatomy  lending  to  his  camouflage.  One  midnight  black  crow  iris  tracks  her  as  she  moves,  shifting  slightly  in  the  cool  damp  early  morning  air,  her  tears  near  reflective  themselves  in  the  pale  starlight.  He's  been  observing  her  for  weeks  now,  how  could  he  resist  when  the  spitting  image  of  Katherine  Von  Schwarzschild  had  stumbled  into  his  path.  Originally  it  had  been  the  ley  lines  beneath  the  earth,  the  crossing  and  re-crossing  of  magical  boarders  that  sang  to  he  and  his  kind.  Honestly  Damon  had  been  surprised  to  find  a  lack  of  vampires  inhabiting  the  town  :  though  it  was  far  from  supernaturally  abandoned.

He'd  mistaken  her  for  Katherine  then,  that  very  first  day,  stricken  with  a  heady  dose  of  awe  that  left  the  eldest  Salvatore  near  breathless.  But  it  couldn't  have  been  Katherine  :  she  was  dead  and  gone,  he  knew  it  as  well  as  Stefan  had  and  yet  ⸻    he'd  always  known  the  woman  to  be  crafty,  perhaps  it  hadn't  been  out  of  her  wheelhouse  to  fool  them  both  .  .  .

But  the  more  he  watched  the  more  Damon  found  this  girl  was  no  where  close  to  who  Katherine  had  been.  Similar  only  in  looks  he'd  decided  then  she  would  be  his  for  the  taking  and  no  sooner  had  he  made  the  decision  had  his  feeble  younger  brother  ridden  into  town.  St.  Stefan,  ever  the  white  knight.  Well,  Damon  could  be  a  knight  too  .  .  .  perhaps  a  black  knight  anyway.

Subtle  shift  of  the  yellow  poplar  leaves  previously  inhabited  branch  shivering,  a  distraction  Damon  uses  to  appear  opposite  of,  no  doubt  taking  the  Gilbert  girl  by  surprise.  "You  must  miss  them  terribly."  He  offers,  human  form  now  stood  mere  feet  from  where  she  sits.  "To  be  out  mourning  at  this  hour,  in  this  weather."  He  gestures  vaguely,  shoulders  rolling  as  if  to  indicate  the  damp  conditions,  eyes  cast  about  much  the  same  :  midnight  black  orbs  dancing  with  traces  of  light.  "ARE  YOU  ALRIGHT?"

@griefkill.

[shaepschiftarc]

@griefkill liked for something small from JOE GOLDBERG

THIS WASN'T EXACTLY MY FIRST CHOICE, ELENA. Traveling across the country in the hopes to avoid my psychotic ex girlfriend desperate to pin Beck's murder on me ( it doesn't matter whether or not she's right what matters is she's smart and very capable ) has lead me here. Mystic Falls, this tiny, hole in the wall town that seems happy enough to swallow me whole, so long as I keep my head down. I can't go by my real name, not right now it's too risky : but sitting here in the Grill, with you ⸻  makes me want to spill my guts to the world, metaphorically speaking of course.

I'm just passing through, that's what I told you and you insisted on showing me around town : sweet and considerate as ever despite all the sadness coiled up in your eyes. I'm not sure what happened to harvest such deeply entrenched sorrow but it makes my heart ache for you, Elena, really it does. I wouldn't consider myself a bleeding heart but there's something about you that makes me want to help. "This is really too kind, seriously I can pay for my own meal." I spout over the burger and fries that's delivered to our table by a perky up beat teenager. "Really, Elena. I'm backpacking across country I CAN PAY FOR A BURGER."