This was it. After so many years of strategizing. After all that John had told her. It all came down to this. It was painful sometimes, to consider all that she would have to give up -- to toss it aside like it didn't matter when in truth it was her world -- to proceed with the plan.

But it had to be done.

As John would say, "If you can't beat them and you absolutely refuse to join them, force one of them to join you."

But he didn't have to force her. No; here she was, offering her body and her soul to the cause, hoping that he would announce his love for her and tell her that there was no need for this. But no. Even after all the years that they had spent together, she being his fling, his crush, his lover... even after she had gotten married because she thought he wasn't interested anymore and then given that up to, to be his lover again and go through with the plan that they both had poured their lives into... she had even carried his child and still the plan was more important to her. He could not love her as she loved him.

And it had to be done.

It was a simple plan, perhaps a bit extensive, but simple enough. However, the plan did not seem to want to transfer as smoothly as hoped from paper to reality. It was a plan of many steps, and they were now approaching what was the most vital of them all.

Step one had been easy - almost too easy. John had called her in the middle of the night two months ago, supplying her with information about the leech. She knew he was speaking of the plan; the very same plan she had almost forgotten, and the very same plan that now, as she laid in bed next to her husband, prayed would never come up again, reared its ugly head again. And she couldn't say no.

It had to be done.

"The leech would be easy enough to convince, or seduce, should it come to that, to turn you," John had said, with such disgust on the word "leech". Each time he uttered "leech," or "vampire," he said it with such disdain that it hurt. And she didn't think the question that always teetered on the edge of consciousness, the one that threatened to destroy both her and the plan altogether: What if I go through with this for him, and he says my name like that? Treats me like that?

It had to be done.

Step two had been to watch the vampire secretly from afar, to make sure that he would be easy enough to convince (or seduce). He was rather attractive - a classic bad boy with a troubled past, black hair and a leather jacket. And she felt pity for him too, for he was, unknowingly, a part of the plan. The plan that would destroy him, just as it had worked with John's twisted love to destroy any bit of humanity within herself.

She hated it.

And now they had reached step three. She left a letter in the mailbox of the vampire.

You can't escape the wrath of my heart
Beating to your funeral song (You're so alone)
All faith is lost for hell regained
And love dust in the hands of shame (Just be brave)vampire heart

Let me bleed you this song of my heart deformed
And lead you along this path in the dark
Where I belong 'till I feel your warmth

Hold me
Like you held on to life
When all fears came alive and entombed me
Love me
Like you love the sun
Scorching the blood in my

I know, Damon. Meet me at 2350 Sycamore Street at 7pm tonight, or I will reveal your secret.

She knew this would get his attention. The lyrics... well, perhaps they were a tad much, but she wanted to create suspense, like John had said. And how cheesy did this sound: "I know you're a blood sucking monster. Meet me..."?

He came, just like they knew he would. And she gave him the well rehearsed speech that John had helped her prepare after she invited him into her home and as he had her pinned against a wall. She told him how she was no longer happy with her husband, how she couldn't bear to leave him, but if he thought she was dead, it would be easier. She could start anew and fulfill the dreams she truly wanted to.

Isobel felt quilty, lying to him this way. But she could see the hunger in the vamp's eyes, and she knew that he would either kill her and move on, or change her as discussed.

As the vampire caved in and his lips sank into her soft yet firm flesh, all she could think about was Alaric. It was odd. She had figured that if anyone would've popped into her mind in what could've been the last moments of her life, it would've been John. Now the vampire held his bleeding neck to her mouth, and she drank without thinking about it. And still Alaric was all she could think about. Perhaps she loved him more than she realized. Perhaps.

But suddenly the vampire pulled back from Isobel, and she could see him clearly now. She wasn't just thinking about Ric. He was there. He had seen. And all Isobel could do was scream, "No," but no sound escaped her lips. The vampire grabbed her neck so fast that she wasn't sure that he actually had until she heard the sharp snap. Then the vampire was gone, and the world was spinning -- or perhaps she was falling? -- and everything went black.

It was cold, and she was completely, utterly, alone.