Archive of Our Own ^beta

Elena needed to escape.

She was barely halfway out the back door before the sting of tears pricked at her eyes. By the time it clicked shut behind her, she was sobbing. The garden was cold. Not the sharp, breath-stealing kind of cold, but the creeping kind that settled in the bones, slow and damp. It clung to her hoodie, seeped into her fingertips as they curled into her sleeves. She welcomed it. It was quiet tonight. Too quiet. The kind of uneasy silence that only came after hours of anxiety, after Callie had finally - finally - settled. But it wouldn’t last. It never did. Elena pressed her palms together, squeezing them tight. She wasn’t sure why - maybe to stop them from shaking, maybe just to feel something solid. Something real. She was so tired; what else was new there?
Tonight’s episode was just one of many. Another spiral, triggered by God knows what. Her mum’s voice echoed in her mind, shrill and erratic, clinging to a new fear like it had been hand-delivered to her personally.
The BBC says security footage can be hacked so easily these days. What if someone’s watching? Her mother’s voice had cracked. They’re watching me, Elena. They’re watching right now, aren’t they?
It had taken an hour and a half of calm words, gentle redirection, and quiet reassurances to guide her back from the edge and convince her to sleep. And now? Now Elena was out here, perched on the back step, her heavy head pressed against the wall as she waited for the adrenaline to drain, for the tears to dry on her cheeks.
A fox barked somewhere in the distance. Velma, maybe. The sound was sharp, familiar. Elena wished she could sink into the dark too, let instinct take over, let someone else worry about everything for once. But she couldn’t. She always had to be the one keeping it together. Who else would?
She swallowed, closing her eyes, resting her head in the crook of her arm. Loose curls slipped free from her ponytail, falling over her face, damp with tears. For a few blissful seconds, her mind drifted.

Then a voice sliced through the night like a knife.
“I’ve seen graveyards with more life than you.”

Elena jerked upright, stomach lurching. Spin was leaning against the garden fence, smirking. His fingers tapped idly on the wood, his dark coat blending into the night - except for the silky red lining that caught the moonlight as he shifted. The real giveaway, though, was his eyes - luminous, watching her with unreadable amusement.
Elena looked away, face burning with the humiliation of being seen when she was so vulnerable. “What do you want?” she snapped, her voice sharp and edged like a blade. For a moment, Spin was reminded of her vixen friend’s fiery nature.
“Temper, temper,” he teased, sing-song. Elena shot him a glare through a lock of hair. He always showed up when she least wanted him to. Maybe she should start growing garlic by the fence.
“Seriously, what’s the deal?” he pressed, stepping closer. His boots clicked against the path with deliberate slowness. “You look like you’re waiting for the world to end. Or were you just waiting for me to grace you with my presence?” His smirk deepened into a grin. Elena exhaled sharply through her nose.
“God, do you ever stop talking? Sense the tone, Spin. I’m not in the mood.” His expression flickered. Whatever quip he’d been about to throw back at her faltered.
“You certainly look like you’re in a mood,” he muttered under his breath - but he took the hint…
...and sat down beside her.
“You know, if you keep this up, I’ll start thinking you don’t enjoy my company.”
“I don’t.”
“Mm.” A noncommittal sound. Like he didn’t believe her. “You’re usually better at pretending.”
A small, tired laugh caught in her throat, but she didn’t let it out.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Elena glanced up. The fire in her gaze had burned out, leaving only exhaustion in its place. Under the dim glow protruding from the kitchen window, Spin caught a proper view of her: tearful, tired and troubled. She really wasn’t up to his mind-messing, was she?
“What’s it to you?” Elena mumbled as she turned her head away, growing embarrassed under his perceptive gaze. But Spin’s curiosity wasn’t going to let her escape so easily. He reached out a cool, gloved hand and gripped Elena’s chin between two fingers - gently, but firmly enough to turn her back towards him. He studied her for a moment, eyes flickering over her face with an unreadable expression. After what felt like an eternity, he loosened his grip and let his hand fall to his side, right next to hers.
“Is it so hard to believe I might care?” His voice was gentler all of a sudden, the taunting tone that usually laced his words gone. Elena gave him an incredulous look, and he smirked. “Well, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t more fun to play with you when you’ve got a little more spirit. Really, though. I may be undead, but I’m not unfeeling. I mean,” he continued, voice softer now, “you don’t have to talk. But I can sit here and be annoying for a very long time.”
Elena faltered, surprising herself. Was she seriously debating whether to open up to a potential vampire, a boy she was hardly sure she could trust, a friend who had tried so hard to be a foe? Yes, she was. Because despite that, Spin seemed to understand her in a way that even Matt and Tima couldn’t. There was something unspoken between them. Spin had flashed a glimpse of another side with her, something dangerously close to fondness. And though he had once stalked her through the shadows, and though she wore a crucifix around her neck just in case, she found that Spin made her insomnia just a little more bearable. “It’s my mum. She’s sick.”

And then it all came pouring out. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. And Spin let her. He was quiet while she ranted about how stressful being a carer was. He was quiet while she listed off the medications her mum had been on and off over the past few years. He was quiet when she confessed to the immense guilt she felt by complaining. Elena sighed shakily, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
“So I’m sorry if I’m not in the mood for your stupid games tonight.” She swallowed hard. “It’s not-” She hesitated. “It’s not something I talk about.”
“I figured.” The words were simple, but they came as a surprise to Elena. They weren’t pitying or prying like her teachers or social workers. Just an acknowledgment, like he understood without requiring an explanation. She stared down at her hands. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, just there.
And then - “You’re not going to do the whole mysterious vanishing act tonight?” she asked, voice quieter than before. Spin tilted his head, studying her like he was deciding something.
“Not unless you want me to,” he said. Elena hesitated, then shook her head.
“…No. Stay.”
Spin nodded once, gaze flickering away as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if staying was the easiest thing in the world.
Elena didn't say much more. She didn't need to; but Spin felt her shuffle just a little closer, and he saw her tension slightly ease, and for once he let her. Maybe the night would be lonely without her.