Klaus was cursing under his breath as he looked around his cell. Looking at the symbols, he knew this couldn't be the work of the Bennett witch as he had initially thought. Cracking his neck, he wracked his brain to see if any of the witches he knew were capable of this kind of magic. It was from the old world, of that he was sure but Klaus hadn't seen this kind of magic worked since his days as a human. Even the original witch wasn't capable of this kind of magic and then it hit him; fear making an appearance on his face for the first time in centuries.

Only one woman he had ever met had possessed that kind of power; Tatia had been dead for ten centuries.


Anger ran through his entire being, not limited to his physical body as his mind, heart and soul raged with the frustration of losing his hold over Qetsiyah's descendant.

Silas had plans for the Bennett line, as well as for the cure. Before this stunt he had been willing to end his pitiful existence to join Emiliyah in the afterlife. Immortality wasn't a gift when you were forced to live every second of every day for millenniums without your heart and she had taken his with hers when Qetsiyah had murdered her. All he needed the witch for was to bring down the veil. Bonnie was the only one on this earth with the ability to learn how to do that, yet she had found away to keep him out.

Caroline had been easy to sway and when need be he had appeared to Bonnie's other friends to keep tabs on her. Silas knew that if he was unable to contact any of them it was for one reason. They were with Elena Gilbert. His great-great-great something granddaughter. One of the two people he was bound by sacred vow never to hurt. The only thing going for him was the fact that the hybrids curse denied them of their heritage and neither Elena or Katerina possessed magic; if they did his plans would never come to fruition. Plans that had now changed.

Silas was not going to kill himself. It wasn't going to be that simple or satisfying an answer for his opponents.


Lying on the dirt ground in the Salvatore cellar, Elijah was perfectly still; the dagger still embedded in his heart, the organ responsible for every betrayal and hurt inflicted upon him during his life. Fitting, wasn't it, that it rested in perfect stillness for an entirely different reason than vampires lacking a heartbeat.

As the dagger slowly lifted from his chest, guided by some seemingly invisible force, Elijah should have rejoined the world in a waking state. Yet the original didn't rise from his slumber. Elijah clung to the darkness of his subconscious, unwilling to resume a life that had caused him more heartache than joy. If clinging to death was the furthest he could hope to get from Katerina, he would cling to it for an eternity.