Unseen

"Bonnie liked her present, don't you think?" Meredith asked, straightening the pillows on the couch. She cast her eye over the rest of the living room: her law books lined up neatly; the coffee table dusted and cleared of Alaric's research; the carpet vacuumed. She'd been gone for three days tracking Celine with Stefan, and she'd had some tidying to do when she returned. Alaric wasn't a slob, but he didn't keep things exactly the way Meredith did.

As she walked over to twitch the curtains straight, she caught Alaric's eye. He was leaning against the doorframe and looking amused, a mug in one hand.

"You knew I was compulsive when you married me," she said, and Alaric's face split into a grin.

"I did," he said, "and I married you anyway. But yeah, I think Bonnie loved the earrings." He crossed the room and laid his free hand on Meredith's arm, nudging her gently toward the couch. "Sit down and drink your tea. And then let's go to bed, it's late." She let him pull her onto the couch with him and leaned against him, nestling in Alaric's warmth. He smelled good, clean and soapy with an underlying Alaric-y whiff of spice.

"I'm glad to be home," she told him, and snuggled closer still. She was getting sleepy. "I'd better study some before I come to bed, though," she added dutifully. "Mock trial Monday. We're all really stressed out." The mock trials competition was a big deal, and she was the prosecuting attorney for her team.

Meredith adored law school. It was a culmination of all her love of logic and study, rules and case histories and solvable problems lining up in neat rows for her to master.

Kicking off her shoes, she curled her feet under her and sipped her tea, grimacing at the bitter, acidic taste of vervain. The mix of herbs Bonnie concocted for her friends was heavy on the vervain-which protected the drinker from being compelled-but the first taste was always unpleasant.

"More honey?" Alaric asked, but Meredith shook her head.

"I want to taste all of it," she said, and tried another sip, concentrating. The second time, it wasn't quite so bad. Underneath the bitterness of the vervain was the faint sweetness of lavender and a rich touch of cinnamon.

"I don't know why you won't just sweeten it up," Alaric said, shifting so that he could dig his thumbs into her vertebrae, kneading her shoulders with his fingers. "That's nasty stuff."

"I want to taste it all," Meredith repeated sleepily. It had been a long day, several long days, and she was ready to spoon up against Alaric in their wide, soft bed and go to sleep. Work, she reminded herself. You're going to win this trial.

Alaric worked a knot out of her shoulders, and Meredith moaned in pleasure. "You have no idea how tight my back got while we were gone," she told him.

"Oh, Stefan doesn't do this?" Alaric said teasingly. "Thank God, I was wondering what I had to offer that your hunting partner couldn't."

"Trust me, you've got lots to offer," Meredith said with a smile. Alaric brushed her hair aside and focused on the massage while she looked happily around the room. Her law books sat on the shelf, her slim silver computer on the desk next to a stack of Alaric's old manuscripts. Her hunting stave, in its case, was tucked in the corner. On the side table were various pictures of their friends, their wedding.

And a picture of Meredith, ten years younger, her arms around her twin brother, Cristian, both of them grinning. She didn't really remember Cristian-this reality where they'd grown up together was one the Guardians had created-and she didn't like to think about his death. Becoming a vampire was one of the worst fates she could imagine for a hunter.

Half-consciously, she leaned back against Alaric's hands, and he kneaded her muscles harder, comforting. Lately, she'd been coming to terms with the idea of Cristian. He'd grown up part of her family, in this life, and he mattered, whether Meredith remembered the young boy in the picture or not.

All the elements that made up her life-hunting, school, becoming a lawyer, her friends, her family, Alaric-they all mattered. She'd been so used to thinking of hunting as what defined her-that everything else was a gloss over her secret life, part of her disguise. That all she truly was, was a hunter.

But Meredith was going to be a lawyer now. She was somebody's wife. She was a friend and a daughter, and once she'd been a sister. These things were real to her, and they all mattered. Just like Bonnie's vervain tea, the bitter and sweet and spicy all mixing together, making up a whole.

"I want to taste it all," she murmured a third time, sleepily, and Alaric snorted with laughter.

"You're just about talking in your sleep," he said. "Time for bed. Everything will still be there in the morning." He swung her up into his arms, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, giggling sleepily, as he carried her to bed.

It was a beautiful night. Stefan opened his senses to everything around him, unusually eager to drink it all in. He could smell magnolia flowers in the yard of a house a few blocks away, the spices and grease of three different restaurants on the street he and Elena were walking up, the sour scent of beer coming from a bar halfway down the street, the warring perfumes of three girls getting out of a car near the curb. He could hear a hundred conversations, from the drunken argument of four frat boys in the bar to the loving whispers of a newly engaged couple in the Indian restaurant. In the apartment over a storefront farther down the block, a sad song played on a cheap radio.

The world had so much in it. He could feel the slow beat of his own heart, slower than a human's, and for once, its pace didn't feel like a reproach. For once, despite everything, despite what he was, Stefan felt alive.

So much to hear, to smell, to see, to feel. And most of all, Elena. Her hand was soft and strong in his, and she smiled at him, radiating love like a vibrant, glowing sun. His mind brushed against hers, and he could feel her welcoming him home, the familiarity and warmth of her.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk and kissed her. All the sensations and impressions that had been flooding through him narrowed down into one thing: Elena's lips, soft against his. Elena's warm breath. He sent her thoughts of love, and of forever, and she sent them back to him.

When they broke apart, they clung to each other for a moment breathlessly. Then Elena smiled and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "You're happy to be home," she said.

Stefan took her hands in his. "Now that Celine is dead, there can't be too many Old Ones left," he said. "When we find them, we can kill them, and then we'll be able to do anything we want, go anywhere we want."

Elena frowned, her eyes puzzled. "We can do anything we want now, Stefan," she said. "We don't have to wait and be sure all the Old Ones are dead. We can't wait for that."

Twining his fingers with Elena's, Stefan smiled down into her eyes. "Remember how, when you drank the water from the Fountain of Eternal Youth and Life, you told me you finally knew what our future would look like?" he asked. "I've always known-I've known for so long that you were my future, that you were the only thing I needed."

Elena's eyes shone. "I know," she said. "Stefan, I want that, too. I want forever." Then her mouth lifted into a mischievous grin. "But we've got forever, don't we?" She moved closer to him still, her soft hair brushing his cheek, her lips only millimeters from his, teasingly light. "I want to enjoy right now."

Stefan was lowering his head to meet her lips once more when someone suddenly lurched against them. Elena's breath puffed out in a soft huff of surprise, and she stumbled back a little, away from Stefan.

Immediately tense, Stefan felt himself fall into a fighting stance, his hands drawn up in fists. It took him a moment to realize there was nothing sinister here, no one he needed to defend Elena from. Just a group of people coming out of a bar, accidentally brushing against them. He shook off his aggression; he'd spent too long on the hunt lately.

"Sorry, sorry," one of the guys said, holding up his hands apologetically. He smiled at them. "My fault. Are you okay?"

The stranger was tall, taller than Stefan, with sharp cheekbones, longish sand-colored hair, and curiously yellowish-green eyes, glowing like a cat's, or a coyote's. He wasn't a vampire, though, Stefan sensed with a quick brush of Power-just another human out for an evening with his friends. Elena murmured that everything was fine, no harm done.

"It was our fault," Stefan said courteously, and moved aside. But the stranger didn't walk on right away. He was looking at Elena. Their eyes caught for a moment, Elena's face creasing into a tiny frown as her clear blue gaze met the stranger's yellowish-green one-and then the moment was over. Stefan shook off the strange feeling their locked gazes had given him. Elena was beautiful; he should be used to people looking at her. With another murmured apology, the stranger moved on down the street, his friends reforming into a group around him.

Elena turned her attention back to Stefan, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him back down for another kiss. "Where were we?" she said, laughing up at him. "Right here? Right now?"