Chapter summary:
Isobel's side of season 2, episode 17: Know thy enemy, and the hidden events between Isobel and certain powerful forces.
Pairings: Stefan/Elena, implied Damon/Alaric.
Warnings: Canonical character death.
Dialogue from the show is the property of the writers and the CW.
Isobel had Frank's money – quite a bit of it, and all cash, so she paid for a motel room for a couple of nights and sat down to think, next steps, all of that.
Isobel placed calls to Katherine's spies in Mystic Falls, and what she learned made her want to smash all of the windows in the hotel room and break necks and cry and go straight back to Mystic Falls, crawl into Alaric's bed. Let him hold her forever, let him drag her back years, to before she had made all of her biggest mistakes.
The Salvatores were alive and well and walking around town like the victors of the piece.
Isobel paced, there in the hotel room, like a caged lion. Furious and frantic and breathing heavily. Every nerve ending on fire. And actually, fuck the windows; Isobel punched into the heavy glass and then again, on the other side of the centre frame, feeling the glass slice clean into her hand, into her arm, wishing it wouldn't heal so quickly afterward. She swept a lamp off the side table and enjoyed the crash it made against the wall. Pulled the phone from its socket, and threw it out of the window. Upturned the mattress. Kicked the nightstand into splinters.
There was a shout, and a knock on the door. Isobel opened it. The manager, or something, by his suit, she thought. She pulled him into the room, her face changing, and tore into his throat. Too fast for him to scream.
When the man was dead, Isobel calmly packed the rest of her things and left.
On the road, she called Katherine, who was ominously silent. Isobel felt her heart beat sickeningly in her chest. The Salvatores had survived. That didn't mean Katherine didn't know Isobel had tried to have them killed. If she knew, Isobel was dead.
Best to play dumb, then, for all that.
Durham.
Isobel would have to be careful. Alaric was long gone, but there were dozens of people she could run into, or who could spot her from a distance, cause difficulties. Isobel stayed out of sight until after dark, and returned to her office. It should have been empty. It wasn't.
Vanessa Monroe. Of course Vanessa would be there. Vanessa with her eyes all wide like that, an almost stupid look pasting her intelligent features. "Is… Isobel?"
Isobel smiled. "Stay calm," she said, with a touch of eye flare. "I need your help."
Vanessa nodded. "I'll stay calm. I'll help."
Isobel smiled. The scent of Vanessa's blood, just beneath the surface of her skin, was fresh and healthy, though a touch of wine swirled within; Vanessa had enjoyed a glass before returning to the office, maybe. Briefly, Isobel considered drinking from her.
No. She needed Vanessa sharp.
"The curse of the sun and the moon," she said, stepping deeper into the office. "I need all the materials. All of them."
Vanessa nodded, and stumbled a little as she stepped towards the bookshelf. Irritated, Isobel blurred in front of her, propping her up by the shoulders. "Vanessa," she warned. "I need you sharp."
Vanessa stood a little straighter. "Of course, Is," she said. Her eyes seemed clearer, instantly. She smoothed her hair down, adjusted her shirt.
Isobel didn't know what it was about seeing a compelled human being that made her simultaneously sick and angry. It was so necessary so much of the time, but their submission made her see red, nonetheless. Seeing Alaric helpless under her gaze…
No, because fuck you, Alaric. Fuck you. Isobel let Vanessa cross to the locked case and pull out a box, and a couple of hand-bound books. She laid them out on the table, and Isobel sat down with a familiar legal pad and felt-tipped pen.
"How well do you know these?" Isobel asked, and was gratified to see Vanessa seemed alert; inspired, even.
"By now? Probably as well as you know them," Vanessa answered. "Maybe better." She shrugged, turning pages. "After all, I've been surrounded by them for years. I've kept everything. I always thought someone would show up, one day, looking for them. I didn't think it would be you, though." Vanessa's eyes almost glitter. "So are you…?"
Isobel looked up from the page, and let her vampire features settle over her face. Vanessa cringed, and swallowed, and acted a little like a proper human being for a moment; still she only nodded, and didn't scream, the way she should have.
Isobel gave a moment's serious thought to eating Vanessa and taking all the papers, but she didn't do that. She stretched her spine, tamping down the irritation that flashed through her body. Vanessa should be afraid.
In some ways, Isobel hated compulsion.
"Tell me about the doppelgänger," Isobel said.
Vanessa slipped elegantly into a chair and smoothed her hair back; Isobel was glad. Less like an automaton, now, Vanessa seemed more capable. "Conflicting reports. It's possible the very first one was a witch, although that often meant, back then, that she had attracted the attention of more than one man. Because of course," and at this Vanessa gave a half smile, "the only way to do that is by sorcery."
"But she was special."
Vanessa shrugged. "She might have been. She might have been involved with the magic that originally made vampires."
But that made no sense at all, because vampires surely had to be eternal, old as the earth. "Or…"
Vanessa shrugged again, and cocked her chin in that 'Women's Studies Major' way she sometimes did. "… Or, she might have been a pretty girl who turned one too many heads and got stoned to death or burned at the stake for messing with someone's ideas of how a good girl should behave."
Women's Studies did, occasionally, have a point. Isobel was hard-pressed to recall a single tale of a man who had gone down in history as a villain for dipping his wick one too many times.
"Here," Isobel said. "I need you to help me photocopy everything. Everything in these three books, all the papers. I need it all, but it can't go missing. You understand?"
"Of course," Vanessa said. "I'm still your graduate assistant, right?"
Are you? I mean, I'm dead, and I really want to drain all the blood from your body, so there's that.
"Of course," Isobel said. "Now get started. I have to go and get something to eat."
It did grant a feeling of control. Access to the materials. Perhaps that was the problem. To an academic, chaos is disorganized thinking, ideas without evidence.
The oldest and most powerful vampires in the world, Katherine had said, were after her.
Well, maybe they were, and maybe they weren't, the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world; but Katherine thought they were, and perhaps they did as well. Perhaps there was a curse of the sun and the moon and perhaps there wasn't; but they believed there was one. Perhaps there had been werewolves once; regardless, there weren't any now.
Perhaps Elena was a doppelgänger, and perhaps she was just a genetic throwback, identical to Katherine for the short period of time their apparent ages intersected. What mattered about that was that they would want Elena, and also, that Isobel had a bargaining chip in Katherine.
Katherine, who still wasn't answering her phone.
Isobel concluded, at last, that she had access to the broader range of materials, and the most information, and importantly, she was young, and intelligent, and trained in research. She would be the puppet master. She would stride into the belly of the beast, and save her daughter.
Isobel sorted through the photocopies, organized her thinking rigorously.
It never crossed her mind that the opposite of chaos might not be order, but hubris.
The chat rooms, again. Isobel logged on as AcaVamp and searched immediately for Bug1974. Two days later, she hadn't heard from him.
AcaVamp: Oh, Bug1974… don't make me start posting all the things I know about your life.
AcaVamp: Bug1974, Have you really forgotten? I know who you are, what you are, what you look like. Where you're at school.
AcaVamp: Bug 1974, I will bring down a storm of flaming shit on your head, and I'll enjoy every moment of it. Believe me when I say that I am in a better position to negotiate than you are, right now.
Bug1974: Tuesday, 10pm. Same place. Delete this account.
Isobel laughed out loud, deleted the account, and settled in to wait.
Slater was more nervous and hunched over than Isobel remembered, when he slunk into the bar. Isobel watched his wary eyes flicker about the room, his hands slung low in his pocket. Perhaps not the exact same cardigan he'd been wearing last time but one quite a lot like it.
His eyes found her, at last, and with a nod of his head, he indicated that Isobel should join him at a booth.
Coward.
Isobel ordered drinks, tumblers full of tequila, and assured the bartender that they were on the house. She crossed the bar and sat opposite Slater, watching his expression when he realized what was in his glass.
"So I was right," he said. "You wanted to change. And you got what you wanted."
Isobel flashed her sweetest smile, and nodded. "I did. Thanks for your help. Henri was very accommodating."
Slater laughed softly. "Henri didn't do this."
Isobel fought down a flicker of irritation. Lying just came so naturally to her. Amongst this crowd, though, it was too easy to get caught out.
"No, he didn't." Isobel pulled the thick sheath of papers from her bag. "I need your help with something." Post-it notes hung from various pages. "I need -"
"Are you regretting it, yet?"
Slater's eyes were heavy on Isobel's, and Isobel felt a cold thrill of pain, through her heart, into her stomach. "What is there to regret?"
Slater shook his head. "Everything. If you're not there yet, you will be soon." Slater leaned forward on the table, arms crossed. "You know who comes to see me?"
"Oh, god, you're not going to give me some life lesson, are you?" Isobel rolled her eyes, a disgusted look on her face. Slater ignored it.
"People come to me looking for information. Sometimes I can help. Sometimes I can't. I have a reputation for knowing things, and for being able to find people, get information. Mostly, I exist on the web. I'm a hub."
"I imagine that must be a very rewarding and fulfilling life," Isobel said. "Why are you trying to bore me to death?" A vicious curl to her lip which Slater took no notice of.
"When I was turned, I was engaged, and had a baby on the way," Slater said. Eyelids heavy.
"Jesus Christ, you're mundane. You've been studying for over thirty years. And you still regret what you left behind?"
"I didn't leave it behind. It was taken from me," Slater said. "You. You left something behind. What was it?"
Alaric's big dark eyes, the pain in them, overwhelmed Isobel for a long moment, but she sat up straighter, sneered. "What I left behind never even existed. A shell of a girl and a dress-up box. Don't pretend you know me."
Slater shook his head. "You're right. I don't know you. And I don't want to." He sighed. "What do you want?"
Isobel thought hard. The most important things were that she didn't reveal her hand, or say anything that could endanger Elena (this, too, was an irritation. Like every mother who has imagined her daughter in the tutu she herself had been too ungainly to wear, Isobel was plotting out the course of Elena's life and no part of it involved vampires of any kind. She wanted Elena safe, wanted all threats to that eliminated. Beginning with these old, powerful vampires, and Katherine, and ending with the Salvatores). She couldn't reveal that Katherine was back in the picture, either, though for all Isobel knew, Slater was aware of this little tidbit.
Either way, Isobel couldn't reveal that she and Katherine were family, or friends, or knew each other at all.
"The oldest, and most powerful, vampires in the world," Isobel said.
Slater's features didn't change or betray a thing. That was his mistake. If he didn't know what she was talking about, he would have looked confused, or surprised, or curious, the way Isobel imagined a mind so sharp would often be. Instead, Slater kept his eyes settled to dull, his mouth a straight line.
"No idea who they might be. No idea how long our kind has existed."
"You're a goddamn liar and I will ruin your life." Isobel smiled. A secretive smile, knowing. A little cock to her chin. From a distance, she would have appeared to be flirting. "I have information they need. And if you get in the way of me getting that to them – obstruct me in any way – I will make sure they know about it."
"What could you possibly have that they would want to know?"
Isobel sipped at her drink. "I know of a young girl who looks a lot like Katherine Pierce. Uncannily like her."
"You're lying." Slater spoke too quickly, again revealing too much of his hand. "The doppelgänger doesn't exist."
Isobel nodded. "Did I say doppelgänger? How interesting. I could have sworn I said something else."
Slater finished his drink, and called over a waiter, asking for another. "Why are you here?"
"The curse of the sun and the moon."
Slater made a frustrated mumble. "It's all a myth. There are no werewolves."
"Probably. Not your concern."
The key to seeming more knowledgeable than she was, Isobel thought, was to avoid saying too much. Reduce the possibility of making errors. "Klaus, I've never met, or spoken to. Rumor has it he's a hermit. Lives on the fringes."
Just the name gave Isobel a thrill. Klaus. Klaus. Step one.
"It doesn't have to be Klaus." She kept her breathing even, her heart rate steady.
Slater scratched his head. "Elijah… I mean, he's a foot soldier."
Once again containing her excitement, Isobel nodded. "Elijah will do fine. Unless you know…?"
"The others are all dead. Or rumored to be, at least. I don't even know if they can be killed. Not many people even know they exist. I doubt anyone knows everything there is to know about them except, well, them. It's all theories and rumors."
Isobel nodded. "Fine. Elijah will do just fine. How do you get hold of him?"
"I don't," Slater admitted. "He might be just a foot soldier, where Klaus is concerned, but he's still hundreds of steps up the ladder from you and me."
"You are boring the shit out of me, Slater."
He looked less scared than sad. Shook his head. "I put an ad on Craigslist. Someone tells someone, who tells someone, who keeps playing Chinese whispers all the way up the line until someone tells Elijah. And then it all comes back down the line to little old me."
"What sort of information would you even have to pass on?"
Slater shrugged. "Rumors. Juicy ones."
"What's the protocol?"
At this, Slater's face finally hardened. "No," he said. "That? Just, no. I value my life too much to get involved in this. I'd wander into the sun before I told you that."
Isobel settled back against the high-backed booth. "The middle-men. Are they humans, or vampires?"
Slater leaned across the table. "Fuck you," he said, evenly.
Not that it mattered. They were all potential leaks of information. In Isobel's experience, a secret was best kept by exactly one person. Two might manage, if each had sufficient leverage over the other. Three was a dangerous proposition indeed. Chinese whispers? Stupid. Way too big a risk.
"How old are they? Klaus and Elijah?"
Slater shrugged. "I have no idea. Old." He finished his drink. "I'm going. You know…"
Isobel met Slater's eyes.
"I told you this would end badly for you. Now? I guarantee it. If you stop now, you might have some semblance of an un-life. Otherwise…" Slater shrugged. "You've met Henri, you've met me. Whoever made you. So you think vampires lead long lives. Believe me when I tell you, most vampires don't last five years. They make a mistake, piss someone off. For every person like me – a vampire thirty years – there's fifty who didn't make it much more than a year. You stink of death. I hope I never see you again. And if I do – it won't be to surprise you with a birthday cake."
"Empty threat, Slater. Henri told me you don't kill."
"Humans, Isobel. I don't kill humans, not if I can help it. I won't hesitate to kill you, if you give me a reason to."
There was something in his eyes. Some flash of strength. Isobel felt afraid, for a moment. Perhaps she had pushed him a touch too far. Into the box Isobel went; pulled out charming, pulled out confident. "You've been very helpful," she promised Slater. "Perhaps when we see each other again you will have changed your mind about me."
The look on Slater's face wasn't quite revulsion, but it wasn't quite not that either. He stood and pulled his cardigan a little closer around his body. A gesture perhaps intended to make him seem more human.
For a vampire, he did seem remarkably human. Isobel made a sheepish promise to herself to leave him out of it, from now on. She even convinced herself it was for Slater's sake, and not her own. A threat from someone so weak couldn't possibly worry a Bulgarian woman. Certainly not a Bulgarian vampire, not a Petrova.
Unbidden, the sweet face of Aunt Gen appeared in Isobel's mind.
Tragedy follows us no matter where we go. Maybe even worse, for you, darling Isobel. You were born on a Wednesday. Full of woe.
For a brief moment, Isobel missed Aunt Gen, and wondered if she was still alive, somewhere. Maybe she'd find out, when all of this was over. She would show Genevieve the Real Isobel Flemming.
Perhaps.
Isobel left a hefty tip – why, she wasn't sure – and left the bar with a sense of unease she could not quite shake.
And yes. Isobel was quite sure she was right, about a number of things.
Vampires could live a long time, sure, but that was countered by the fact that there was often something around that wanted them dead – another vampire, perhaps angered by encroachment on their territory, or a human who knew more than most humans did. Slater was no doubt right about that. So to live a long time, there were a number of necessary steps to take. Isobel thought about Katherine, about Henri.
The first thing, obviously, was too keep a low profile. Katherine had never said it directly, but she had been running from Klaus and Elijah for five centuries, give or take; and the definition of 'low profile' had changed, in that time. Katherine had initially been careful about disposing of her victims so as not to leave a helpful trail of bodies to wherever she was hiding. These days, she was triply careful. She killed less often. Had a passable knowledge of forensics and was much more cautious about disposing of dead bodies. Isobel thought about the lengths Katherine went to, to avoid surveillance cameras, police photographers. Contact with cameras of any kind, really, since the internet allowed for sharing of images, and facial recognition improved by the day.
Katherine trusted almost no one and would never let an extra link exist in any chain that mattered to her. A small number of compelled humans – useful, to be sure, but not to be trusted, since they were hopeless at improvisation – playing amateur spy around the place.
But to trust a string of people – humans or vampires – to keep the secret of her existence safe? No way in hell.
By extension, the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world would be far more careful than even Katherine.
Most likely Elijah, but perhaps Klaus; one of them had a very close eye on Craigslist.
Fuck the protocol. If AcaVamp had found Slater more than once, a well-worded ad under missed connections would certainly net Isobel Flemming an old, old vampire or two.
...
I found KP
I know you are looking for the girl who looks like her. But since the dog breed you were interested in doesn't exist any more, perhaps you'd be interested in the real thing?
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
...
Isobel spent days reading through the research materials she had accumulated and checking the dummy email account she had set up about every twelve seconds. Remembering she had to lie low, she ate only what she had to, and didn't kill anyone. She stalked through the apartment she was living in and drank altogether too much alcohol, wishing it was possible to really get drunk.
On the fifth night, when she snuck from the apartment to feed, Isobel had travelled less than half a block when a terrible pain came over her. Her head felt like it might explode. Vampires don't get sick, she told herself, trying to stay upright, but unconsciousness sounded like a better plan, so she slumped to the ground, and let the world go black.
When Isobel woke, it was to disorientation and fear.
She was on the ground, in a richly decorated room, she saw, when her eyes opened. She expected terrible pain, but there was none. As she sat up, a hospital blood bag hit the ground in front of her.
She lifted it by one corner, and inspected it, suspiciously, before looking up.
The man sitting on the elegant chaise lounge in front of her could only be described as cherubic. From the elegant bow of his lips, his laughing eyes, and his wicked smile, to the lazy grace of his relaxed recline. His hair was a sort of strawberry blond.
"Hello, sweetheart," he said, and there was laughter in his voice, in his lilting British accent. "Sorry about the dramatics. You can never be too careful."
Despite herself, Isobel felt her lip curl into a smile, and she bit into the blood bag. She drained it quickly.
"I love the Internet," the man said. "You can find anything. Literally anything. Cats that look like Hitler. Have you seen that site? Good for a laugh," he said, and his smile grew broader. "Doppelgängers who are supposed to be long dead. Academics who know a little too much."
"Are you… Elijah?"
He shook his head. "No. Elijah and I had a disagreement, of sorts. A falling out, you'd say. I haven't seen him in years." He stood slowly. "Niklaus," he said, reaching to help Isobel to her feet. "You can call me Klaus. I've been going by that for a little while now. Got to keep things interesting, you know, so I change things up from time to time. For now; Klaus."
Isobel took his hand, and got to her feet. Strangely relieved. There was no malice in his tone; perhaps he hated Katherine, wanted her dead, but he seemed to like Isobel well enough. She wondered absently if they would sleep together.
"At present, my brother is in Mystic Falls, making my life difficult. Take a seat," he said.
Isobel sat.
"On the lounge, there's a good girl."
Isobel realized she had sat back on the ground, and felt a faint thrill of fear. "That was strange," she said. "Perhaps my head's still…"
Klaus threw his head back, and laughed. "Your head is fine, sweetheart. My family and I… we can compel other vampires. Think of that as a little display of power. See, I think we can work together. And I think the negotiations will go better if you know I could tell you to rip out your own heart, and you would have no choice but to do it."
The fear was less faint, then.
"You can… compel me? Compel a vampire?"
"We were the first of our kind," he said, nodding, as Isobel settled onto the lounge beside him, and submitted to having her hair tucked behind her ear. "A thousand years ago."
Okay, a miscalculation. A massive fucking miscalculation, maybe. Isobel realized she was shaking, a little.
"Do calm down, Isobel," Klaus said. A touch of eye-flare. "We haven't even started to negotiate. I have no wish to kill you."
Isobel calmed instantly.
"I know where Katherine is," Isobel blurted. "I know you want her. I… contacted you to extend the hand of cooperation. I can help you to get to her."
Klaus nodded. "Good girl. I like you. Very much. You will tell me the truth, in all things." The eye-flare, again. "Don't worry, you can trust me." He winked.
Isobel found herself desperately wanting to trust him; needing to, she supposed, since she had offered herself up on a platter. He was so sincere, and so damn pretty. A hermit, she had imagined, would be a bearded, unkempt monster, smelling like the blood of animals, hiding in a shack.
Fuck, she thought. You are so fucking stupid. Hubris. Pure hubris. How she could ever have thought she had all the information? Compared to a millennium of being a vampire, five centuries chasing Katerina Petrova?
Isobel felt physically sick, but she straightened her spine, cocked her chin.
"Do you want Katherine, or not?"
"I certainly do. I can't wait to see her. I've missed her. See, she took something from me. Something I don't intend to lose a second time. But I also want to hear a little about your daughter. I hear they have a lot in common."
Isobel swallowed. "There's a similarity."
Klaus leaned toward Isobel. "Your daughter is the doppelgänger. True?"
"Yes," Isobel blurted. Damn that compulsion. There should have been something. Something written somewhere. Her research materials came from all over the globe. Someone should have known. Someone should have written that down, somewhere. There are thousand year old vampires, and they can compel other vampires, and maybe they can be trusted and maybe they can't but you won't have a choice. It should say that somewhere.
Klaus nodded. "I am so pleased to have met you," he said. He had a lisp which made him sound safer, somehow, but Isobel didn't feel safe. She felt cold. "I think we'll work well together."
Like a lawyer, or a scoundrel, his lips dripped honey Isobel couldn't help but want to lick up. She hoped they were not poison.
"You want to break the curse so the wolves can't, right?"
Klaus chuckled, and climbed to his feet, and crossed the room until he was gazing out the window. "Rumor has it," he said.
"But there are no werewolves. Not any more."
"If you say so, sweetheart."
"What do you want with my daughter?"
Klaus shrugged. "If it turned out there were werewolves still in this world I would want her to help me to break the curse."
"What would you need from her?"
"Blood," Klaus said easily. "Just some of her blood."
"Some."
"That's what I said." He grinned, widely. "So, now. What say we have a bit of a natter, eh? Work out some sort of a plan to get us both what we want?" He gave a reassuring nod. "Tell me what you want."
"I want my daughter safe. I want her away from vampires. I want her never to be what I am."
Klaus crossed the room, and cupped Isobel's face in his hands. He leaned to kiss her forehead. "I promise I will do everything in my power to ensure your daughter never becomes a vampire. Okay, sweetheart? And when I'm done breaking the curse, she will never again so much as see another vampire. Ever."
After a long, calming breath, Isobel nodded.
Klaus crouched in front of her. "There are werewolves. Hundreds of them. The bloodlines run through families all over the continent. And all over the world. I need to draw blood from a werewolf and a vampire to break the curse. What do you say you and I make damn sure the vampire I draw blood from is Katerina Petrova?"
Maybe Katherine was family. Maybe she was all that Isobel had left, in the world, but somehow, in the face of all that had happened, and all that might, Isobel found she didn't much care. Isobel's heart was the heart of the sixteen year old girl who had carried Elena, and given birth to her, and entrusted her to the care of the Gilberts.
Isobel nodded slowly.
Klaus smiled. "Then let's get a pot of tea on, and start nutting out the details, shall we?"
On Klaus's orders, Isobel made several more attempts to contact Katherine, over the next few days, and almost cried with relief when Katherine finally picked up the phone.
"Things are heating up in Mystic Falls, granddaughter."
Isobel forced herself to laugh. "I bet they are. Are you there yet?"
"I am. Safe here, for now. Elijah is out for the count and there is no sign of Klaus. They say his name like he's the boogeyman. But before my Salvatores put Elijah down, he told them Klaus is a total recluse. Not coming out into the open without a whole lot of information he has no way of getting."
Isobel felt Klaus's silent chuckle. Some vibration on the air. "I need to see you, Katherine."
"Of course. Are you coming here?"
"I am."
Katherine paused. "Don't keep me in suspense."
Isobel paused. "I have to. There are rumors everywhere," she said. As she said it, she met Klaus's eyes, there on the couch with a woman splayed across his lap. He had been feeding from her. He was focused on Isobel now but his eyes were still red-black and vicious. He was smiling, fangs out and coated in blood. He gave a wink, and Isobel had to look away. "About a doppelgänger. I can't talk on the phone. I promise I have good news."
"Don't try to tell me you found…"
"Klaus? Not exactly."
Katherine couldn't disguise the interest in her voice. "Well, don't wait," she said. "Call me when you're here."
"Wait, Katherine…" Isobel turned to Klaus, and met his eyes again. as she spoke. "I need you to work on something, in the meantime."
"I'm listening."
"We're going to need a werewolf."
Katherine was silent. "There's no -"
"There are werewolves. And I think you know it."
"What are you cooking up?"
"You'll know soon enough."
Katherine was silent a long time. Isobel could have sworn she heard Katherine chewing on her lip. "Well…"
Isobel waited.
Eventually, Katherine sighed. "So if I told you there's a werewolf or two around Mystic Falls right now…?"
Klaus smiled widely, able, as he was, to hear both sides of the conversation. He shook his head briefly and gave Isobel an impressed cock of his chin.
"That is excellent news, Katherine. And one last thing…"
"The moonstone won't be a problem," Katherine promised. "You are such a Petrova. I mean, really."
"I'll see you soon," Isobel sang, and disconnected the call.
"Good girl," Klaus said, as he pushed the lifeless body from his lap. "That will save me some time. I think you have another call to make."
Much more confident about her ability to lie to John, Isobel placed the call. She settled her features to serious, knowing he would hear the expression in her tone.
"John," she said. He waited a long time to speak.
"I did what I could, Isobel," he said. "Thanks to your husband, and that little Bennett witch…"
"No, no," Isobel said. "Calm down. As it happens, we might need the Salvatores anyway. Elena is in terrible danger."
Klaus looked curious.
Isobel was learning about the other side of compulsion on a very steep learning curve. And compulsion, she was learning, was a tricky thing.
As long as she did what Klaus said, she had a degree of freedom around that; as long as she didn't directly act against him, there were actions she could take, things she could say, that forwarded her own agenda.
Isobel's agenda, at this point, was focused on only one goal; Elena's safety. Isobel wanted to get something right, with whatever remained of her afterlife; do one last decent thing. She was hoping Klaus was telling the truth about what he needed from her; but just in case, she was being cautious. She wanted safety nets.
"What are you talking about, Isobel?"
Isobel breathed, and remained calm. "I've made contact with someone who is in contact with Klaus. I'm negotiating a deal to keep Elena safe. Swapping her for Katherine."
"Jesus, Isobel…" She could hear him run a hand through her hair. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
Isobel laughed. "I do. Klaus is too arrogant to suspect anyone would act against him."
On the lounge, Klaus chuckled silently, shaking his head.
"Meet me in Mystic Falls," Isobel said, cocking her head. "In say, four…" Klaus held up two fingers. "In two days. Think you can do that? Without telling the Salvatores, or Elena, that I'm on my way?"
"Don't patronize me, Isobel," John said. "I'm already here. Well, close." Isobel hesitated, and turned a little away from Klaus. Illusory, of course; his senses were too sharp to miss anything. "How is…" Isobel swallowed. "How's Ric?"
John laughed. "You almost sound as if you care."
Isobel fought to answer; I do care, perhaps, or I don't care in the slightest. She said neither. "Whatever."
"He's dating Jenna Sommers. Elena's Aunt. They seem to be very happy together."
It should not have felt so much like a knife in the gut, or perhaps it was good. What it meant for Damon Isobel couldn't guess. "Eugh," she said. "How… sanitary."
"You don't know Jenna. She's a good person and she's doing her best to raise our daughter. And you half-destroyed Ric, Isobel. Perhaps you could be happy for him. Call me well before you hit the city limits." John hung up.
Isobel blinked back confusion and rage and a little touch of sadness as well.
"And who, pray tell, is Ric?" came a too-curious voice from the chaise.
"Not a part of this," Isobel said, unthinking.
Klaus shot across the room and pressed Isobel into the wall, a hand curved tight against her throat. "I asked you a question," he said, and his eyes flickered. Isobel pulled helplessly against his fingers.
"My husband," she admitted, when Klaus had let her fall to the floor, and the bruising on her throat had healed, and she could speak again.
"Husband. And he lives in Mystic Falls?"
"Please don't -"
"Hush, Isobel. Don't beg. It doesn't suit you at all. Tell me about your husband. Why is he in Mystic Falls?"
The workaround for a question is you don't say more than you have to, though you never know, really, how much you will be expected to spill, how far you will be pushed.
"He's the history teacher at the high school."
"Ah. That's his job. Why is he there?"
Isobel's heart sank. "He went there looking for Damon Salvatore, who turned me."
Klaus grinned, and yanked her up by the arm. "Is he a sort?"
A sort? Weird British expression, Isobel assumed, and frowned.
"Fanciable. Good-looking."
Isobel nodded, her blood turning to ice. "He is."
Klaus nodded slowly. "Trusted? By your daughter, by the Salvatores?"
Isobel blinked back further tears; this was never intended to be a part of it. Never. Not Alaric. Whatever Klaus had planned for him, it couldn't be good.
"Please, Klaus…" Klaus only smiled. "Yes. He's trusted. Don't hurt him."
"Well, if I hurt him, he won't be much use to me. No. But I will need you to hand him over to Maddox for me."
From the corner of the room, the burly warlock raised his head from his notes.
That night, in the sumptuous guest room, Isobel cried until she couldn't think or see any more, and then snapped out of it.
There were a number of problems. Some harder than others to cope with. For all Isobel knew, Katherine knew Isobel had betrayed her, and the Salvatores, and Isobel would be dead at Katherine's hands as soon as they laid eyes on one another. Though Katherine hadn't sounded angry or suspicious on the phone; quite the contrary. She'd sounded pleased, that her granddaughter, every inch the Petrova, had apparently made excellent progress on her behalf.
Soon she would know what 'every inch the Petrova' really meant. She shouldn't have forgotten in the first place.
And maybe it was best the Salvatores had survived, as they had. If the worst should occur, they would take Elena away from Mystic Falls. Protect her.
Alaric, she probably couldn't help. Klaus's assurances that Alaric wouldn't be hurt were not particularly reassuring. He was very careful with his words.
Isobel bowed her head, and retreated to the bed, and slept until the sun came up.
In the morning, Maddox opened the door to Isobel's room, and led her back to the luxurious parlor.
"We won't have any problems, will we, sweetheart?" Klaus said, grinning.
"Of course not. I only want my daughter safe. And Alaric unhurt." Isobel nodded earnestly.
Klaus nodded, slow and deliberate. "Look at me," he said. Isobel did. "Anything Maddox tells you to do, you will do."
Isobel nodded. "I will," she said.
"I need you to make this work. So I'm giving you a reasonable amount of autonomy. You need to be able to improvise, think on your feet."
"I appreciate it." This was true. If Isobel was to fight the compulsion, work around it as needed, she would need all the space she could get. "I won't let you down."
"You're damned right, you won't, sweetheart." Klaus grinned. The grin looked nothing like a smile.
Isobel swallowed, hard. "Where will you be?"
"Not far away. Once Maddox has finished his work, I'll be in Mystic Falls."
Isobel nodded, and turned to Maddox. "Shall we go?"
Klaus interrupted. "No. You'll leave tomorrow. This is where you and I say goodbye, love. I have other tasks to attend to." He grinned. "Stick her back in her room, would you, Maddox? There's a love."
"No," Isobel protested. "Why -"
"Because I said so, darling," and there was more than warning in the tone. His smiled dropped, from his eyes as well. "Maddox and I have business. Tomorrow, you leave."
Isobel wasn't sure how she hadn't seen it the moment before; the threat in the set of his jaw, in the muscles rippling across his arms, his shoulders. His eyes were suddenly cold and glittering and dangerous, and Isobel felt cold.
"I'm…" She shifted from foot to foot. "I'm sorry."
Klaus paused a moment, and nodded, and smiled a touch.
"Katherine is of no practical use to me, you know. I could use any vampire in the ritual and Mystic Falls is crawling with them. My interest in her is purely vengeance for vengeance's sake."
Isobel nodded, swallowing.
"You are worried that I'll kill her."
Isobel opened her mouth to speak, and hesitated. Worried wasn't the word; truly, Isobel would be safer with Katherine dead. Elena, too. And it was hard to know whether Klaus was issuing a threat, or dangling a favor. "Are you saying you don't want to kill her?"
Klaus smiled again. "She ran from me for five centuries," he said. "I intend to keep her alive for at least that long." He took a threatening step forward, and the smile dropped again. "If you make some attempt to betray me – try to work around my compulsion, to subvert the overall plot – you will share a cell with her, for the next five centuries. How soon 'til we have jet-packs and flying cars, d'you think?"
Isobel felt a chill. "You don't need to worry about me," she said.
"Katherine must never know that you and I have met."
Isobel nodded.
"Then go have fun, Isobel," he grinned, and Isobel tried not to think of crocodiles and hyenas.
Isobel climbed into the passenger seat of a car expressly stolen for these purposes. Maddox drove. It took all day to get to Mystic Falls. Isobel called John at the last possible moment, just so he remembered who was in charge, and then had Maddox take her to the Gilbert house. Why not throw a cat amongst the pigeons?
Isobel knocked on the door.
Jenna Sommers had a sweet face and big eyes, a wide smile. Isobel wanted to see her broken.
"Hi," she said. "You must be Jenna." The smile remained, unabated. Elena stepped into sight, a terrible expression on her face. Isobel nodded once. "I'm... Elena's mother."
Ah, there it was; Jenna looked like she had been stabbed, eyes going watery, smile gone. Quite broken. Isobel felt something vicious uncurl in her chest.
Elena made a sound like a bull preparing to charge. "Isobel," she said, and must have immediately regretted it, because the betrayal on Jenna's face was turned on her, then. Isobel remained focused on Jenna.
"You must be the woman who's dating my husband," she said, guileless.
Elena stepped forward to push the door shut. Well, Isobel hadn't expected a warm welcome. She thought for a moment about standing on the porch for a while, listening to the aftermath; but she had other things to do.
Maddox drove her to the same house as last time – still the nicest foreclosure in a town where anyone who could afford to buy a place so beautiful already had one.
Back at the Gilbert house, this time with John. He had uttered a few empty threats about what he would do if Isobel was trying to play him, but in the end, had been convinced that Isobel was indeed acting in Elena's best interests. Isobel was looking forward to seeing Elena's face when she discovered they were working together again.
And then she just felt tired. Like a mother losing a daughter. She steeled herself to be Isobel Flemming, badass vampire.
Elena was, angry, furious, hands curled into fists. Stefan, standing beside her, looked prepared to listen. To his credit, Isobel thought. No doubt he was prepared to listen to anyone who had an idea about protecting Elena.
Isobel took a breath, and settled her features into a mask of 'concerned parent'. "I asked John for a do-over."
Elena's eyes were narrowed on John. Ooh, the hate. Definitely a touch of the Petrova fire in there. Good. Elena would need it to survive. "You invited her in?" she asked her father, her uncle, who she clearly despised.
John nodded. "She has information about Klaus. Please, just listen to her, ok?"
Elena was stubborn as all fuck perhaps and a Petrova but at least she had a sensible boyfriend, in Stefan Salvatore. She looked to him now. "All right," he said. "What do you know?"
Settled in the kitchen, but no less tense for the change in setting, John and Isobel convinced Elena – or at least, seemed to convince Stefan, that they were acting in Elena's best interests. Isobel found herself rationing her words; there were three different versions of the plan by now and she couldn't trip up on any of them.
And Jesus, this house. Isobel suspected that not a single vampire existed in Mystic Falls who hadn't been in here. Katherine. Elijah. The Salvatores, she could do nothing about.
Still. If they weren't going anywhere, at least Isobel could use them. The lie was an inspired one. "I have a safe house that I can take you to. The deed is in your name. No vampires can get in without your permission, not even me." Isobel's face betrayed nothing. "Let me help you."
Stefan twitched, minutely, and Isobel knew she had won. Probably, the Salvatores would have signed the boarding house over to Elena by the end of the day. Isobel felt a small pang of jealousy; how wonderful it must be, to be loved so completely, by a man who would do anything at all for you.
And then she remembered Alaric, and had to harden her heart against the thought.
Elena stood, eyes burning bright with hate. "You wanna help?" she asked. "Then get the hell out of my house." She stormed from the room.
Out on the street, John ran a nervous hand through his hair. "That couldn't have gone any worse," he muttered.
"Au contraire, John. Don't worry."
John paced, two steps in one direction, two steps back. "Were we in the same conversation?"
"No," Isobel said plainly. "Don't ever assume you know my whole plan." She smoothed John's sleeves down. "You won't see me, now, for a little while. Don't call me. If I need you, I'll call you." The way John flinched under her touch made Isobel smile. "Now, go."
"Isobel…"
Isobel waited.
"Can I even trust you? Are you really fighting for Elena here?"
"Elena is the only person I care about in this whole sorry mess."
The way it spilled from her lips shocked Isobel. True, and fervently meant, but she sounded fierce, like…
Like a mother.
John seemed to consider her face a moment. "There's a plan," he said.
Isobel nodded. "Of course there's a plan. What -"
John dropped his voice low, quiet. "Not just to save Elena. To kill Klaus."
"Stop," Isobel said, heart thumping in her chest.
John blinked. "Is -"
"I mean it. The plan. Don't tell me any details. Just tell me it can work."
"I don't know the whole…"
"Just tell me it will work."
John nodded. "There's still a lot to work out. But…"
Isobel placed a finger to John's lips. "I have to find a way to take myself out of the equation," she said, and again it was a shock. "I'm doing alright now but there will come a time soon when…"
Oh, Jesus Christ. Tears. John's face softened. Isobel blinked them away.
"I'll be a liability, soon. Swear to me." She swallowed, hard. "Keep her alive."
Slowly, and with something like awe on his face, John nodded, and in his face, Isobel saw traces of the boy she once knew. And without knowing why, she kissed him. It was much like their very first kiss, out near the falls, twenty – really? Twenty? Years ago. A tony touch of his childish optimism. He took her hand, for a brief moment, held it tight. His ring bit into her skin.
"I'll do it," he promised. "Whatever I have to do."
"Don't call," Isobel said, and John finally understood it was for Elena.
Isobel blurred three blocks to the point where Maddox had parked the car. She climbed into the back seat and set her features back to Callous Vampire Bitch.
This was it, of course, the final mask. The last outfit Isobel would ever need.
Sitting in the back seat and watching Mystic Falls go by, trying to ignore the still-persistent smell of the paper mill, Isobel catalogued every face she had ever worn. The little girl in the fox stole and the costume pearls. She had thought for two years now that her vampire face was the real face. The only real face she'd ever had. But no.
So many years spent running from it, denying it, lying about it, and it was the only thing she had left. She was a mother. That was the real Isobel.
Maddox adjusted the rear view mirror, and caught Isobel's eyes.
"You had better not have done anything stupid," he said. It was always a shock to hear Maddox's booming voice; he spoke so infrequently.
"Klaus and I have a deal," Isobel said, watching the scenery.
Maddox paused, nodded, and drove back to the house.
Isobel strode confidently into the house, letting Maddox open and close the door for her, and ignoring the tension in his hulking frame. He hated it when she acted as though he was her servant; which was exactly why she did it.
"Merci, mon cheri," she said, slipping a wine bottle out of her bag and setting it on the sideboard. Katherine was here. That perfume, or some disturbance in the air, alerted Isobel at once. She spun on her heel, launching across the room, and threw Katherine against the wall.
Katherine, of course, much older and much stronger, gained the advantage at once, reversing their positions and grabbing Isobel's throat. Isobel took a moment to assess the situation.
Shit. Shit. Katherine knew.
But, no. Katherine's eyes were sparkling, and she was smiling. No more murderous than usual.
"Nice house," she said, easing up on Isobel's throat.
"Nicest foreclosure in town," Isobel agreed, laughing "Come here." They embraced, then, laughing, the Petrova women, one traitor and one devious bitch; and who could say, really, which was which? "It's good to see you, Katherine."
Katherine smiled even wider. "I hear you've been busy."
Isobel nodded. "Yes, I have. I've been busy making a deal with Klaus to save your life." She retrieved the bottle and passed it to Katherine. "Here," she said. "A vintner I knew in Avignon." Sounded more impressive to her ear than 'a townie I decided not to kill this afternoon.'
Katherine open the bottle, and touched her finger to the cork, for a taste. "Hmm. He's tasty."
Whatever.
Isobel collected wine glasses, and settled onto the couch while Katherine poured them each a meal. Mask firmly settled into place.
"So what was with the surprise visit to the Gilbert house?"
Isobel shrugged, and made a petulant face. "John told me Ric was dating auntie vanilla. I got jealous."
Katherine seemed impressed. "You've obviously got John wrapped around your finger, if he invited you into the house."
This, Isobel knew, was when it would get difficult. The deception. She concentrated on a steady heart rate, and breathed only as much as she needed to for speech. "He thinks I'm helping him protect Elena, so he's been very useful in keeping me informed on everything that's been going on."
Katherine sipped at her glass. "So tell me what you know."
Isobel nodded. "You were right. I couldn't get anywhere near Klaus, but I found my way to someone in his trusted circle. One of his witches." She threw a patronizing glance toward the entryway, where she knew Maddox could here her every word, from his place by the front window. He narrowed his eyes at Isobel. Sneered a little.
Katherine shuddered. "Klaus and his witches."
Isobel leaned in, conspiratorial. "He said that Klaus is willing to grant you your freedom if we deliver the moonstone and the doppelgänger."
"I can get the moonstone." Katherine's eyes glittered.
Isobel raised an eyebrow. "You know, Katherine, you'd be betraying your Salvatore boys again." It was impossible to guess how much Katherine even cared. On balance, Isobel thought she probably wanted Stefan back. But she wouldn't risk a chance at her own freedom for him.
For anyone.
What a way to live.
Katherine shrugged. "I was more than willing to play it their way if I had to, but they're floundering. Their witch has lost her powers, and they've used their only weapon to kill Elijah. If I stick with them, I'm dead. You showing up changes everything." She smiled, wicked, seductive.
Grandmother, what big teeth you have.
They spoke a while longer, plotting and scheming, and Katherine kissed the corner of Isobel's mouth before she left.
With Katherine gone, Isobel sat on the sofa for a long time, thinking about her. Five centuries like this; running and hiding, plotting plots. She didn't get to enjoy herself, much.
Isobel drew her legs up onto the sofa.
Maddox leaned against the door-jamb. "She's an inspiration, your grandmother," he sneered.
"Fuck you," Isobel spat. "Don't we have some work to do?"
Maddox nodded. "Tomorrow." He crossed his arms. "Looking forward to betraying your husband?"
"I like you better when you're silent and broody," Isobel said, and taking the bottle of blood and her glass, went to be elsewhere; anywhere she couldn't feel the arrogant bastard's eyes on her.
Like he was any better.
There could be no happy ending to any of this, Isobel thought, and wondered about the moments when she could have made better choices; starting, of course, with knocking on Damon Salvatore's door and offering herself up, begging him to turn her, and finishing with seeking out Klaus.
What a monstrous, monstrous fuck-up. And soon, she would compound her crimes by – yes – betraying Alaric.
Alaric would die. Isobel was sure of it. She let the tears build up and trickle down her face. Let herself indulge in a mental flip-through of a photo album, all their best moments, and then willed herself to hate him for every last one of them.
No switch.
Her final face, her true face. The face of a mother.
Yes. Isobel had to take herself out of the equation.
Alaric was easy to find. His truck, so easy to identify. His habits, all too predictable. He crossed the parking lot by the tiny shopping strip, a little hunched, a little rumpled looking, and every inch Alaric.
Perhaps he was dating Jenna. But he stilled smelled like Damon.
Maddox was hidden just out of sight, though Isobel almost thought she could feel his gaze; weighing on her, a real thing. Perhaps it was. He had so much power it made Isobel's teeth ache.
Alaric ran a hand through his hair, and fumbled in his pocket for the car key. Not looking around. When Isobel spoke, he startled.
"Hi, Ric," she said, nodding.
Alaric was so brave. He should have been afraid. He looked bitter, only that, from where Isobel stood; and this was a face Isobel knew well. He had been a sweet boy, once.
Alaric narrowed his eyes. "Isobel. What do you want?"
Isobel shrugged. "Just cleaning up some loose ends."
Alaric returned to trying to get the key into the lock. Something – anger – was making him fumble it. Alcohol, perhaps, too; not now, but he had drunk heavily the previous night. He shook his head. "Yeah, well, we don't have any loose ends."
"You may not. I do. I need to apologize to you."
Alaric visibly flinched. "It's a little late for that."
"No, not for what I've done in the past." After all; apologize for what? Where could she possible start? A laundry list of crimes. No point. "We're beyond that. Although I am sorry for outing you to your girlfriend. That was petty of me." Isobel nodded, just a rueful little jerk of the head.
"Look, whatever jacked-up vampire amends that you're trying to make with me right now, I'm not interested," Alaric said.
Isobel tucked her hair behind her ear, and prepared to say the closest thing to goodbye that she possibly could. "Of course not, because I compelled you to let me go. I realize that I don't wanna do what I have to do without you knowing how much I loved you. And I did. I loved you so much."
Grief racked Alaric's face, but only for a moment; and why? The declaration? Or was he afraid, for what she was about to do?
Isobel realized, suddenly, that when she was dead, the compulsion would fall away, and he would mourn her all over again. Except, probably not.
She doubted Alaric would survive whatever Klaus intended to do with him.
That was the moment.
Isobel decided the best way to avoid causing any more pain, any more grief, for anyone, the only way to ensure she couldn't fuck up again, was to make sure she didn't survive this either. She didn't want to live in a world where she had destroyed Alaric over and over again. Where she could still be a liability to Elena.
There was, in the end, only one way to take herself out of the equation.
Strangely, the decision brought her peace. She hoped Klaus was telling the truth. That Elena would survive the ritual. In Isobel's heart, she entrusted her daughter to the care of the Salvatores.
No doubt ending her own life would be a swifter death than whatever Katherine would plan for her, once she knew she had been betrayed. If Katherine survived. Or Klaus, if he did.
Isobel held Alaric's eyes in her own for another long moment. Learning him, once more, learning him for the last time. The new lines in his beautiful face. The stubble on his jaw, light right now; he had shaved yesterday, Isobel thought, but not this morning.
She took a step back.
"He's all yours," she said, and turned away, before she would have to watch the look of confusion and fear on Alaric's face turn to agony. His pained groan was hard enough to hear.
Isobel blurred away, unwilling and unable to deal with the aftermath; and prepared for the second-last step in the plan.
At the door of the Lockwood house, Isobel caught Carol Lockwood's eye, and smiled. Carol invited her inside, without a moment's hesitation, and Isobel paused briefly.
"Forget you ever saw me," she said, and Carol's eyes blurred.
"Of course," she agreed, eyes already seeking out the next person to shake hands with. Viciously, Isobel wondered where Carol had come from; if she was from a founding family, Isobel would have met her, all those summers ago. Probably some little trailer-park bitch who had gotten herself knocked up in order to marry into the Lockwood family.
Breathe, Isobel.
Katherine was close by, watching, waiting. Isobel crept up the stairs, and spent an indulgent moment exploring the upper floor, waiting for her moment. Listening for John's voice in the throng.
Ah. There he was.
Things had quieted down; Elena would be accepting some check, something for one of Miranda's ridiculous enthusiasms; the literacy thing, maybe. The historical society, the animal shelter. All eyes were on Elena at the front of the room.
There were fifty ways this could go wrong.
At the landing between the staircases, Isobel met John's eyes, and curled her lips into a smile. She glanced quickly at his hand, to make sure he was still wearing his brother's magic ring, the twin to Alaric's. Fear crossed John's face.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Isobel cocked her head. "I'm creating a distraction," she said, and launched herself at John's throat, tearing into him.
He tasted melancholy.
Isobel threw him down the stairs, already dying, and blanched at the sound of his neck snapping. He would be fine. And he would do anything for Elena.
Isobel slipped out into the chaos, out the door. After waiting for everyone to be asked to leave, she crossed to the place she and Katherine had left the car. Sure enough, Elena, dressed in Katherine's clothes, was asleep in the back seat. The driver still looked stoned. Again, Isobel felt that flash of resentment toward compelled humans.
Isobel opened the door. Checked Elena's pulse. It was weak. Rapid. A terrible bruise blossomed over her throat; Katherine had knocked her out by cutting off her oxygen supply for a moment.
Isobel wondered if Klaus really had the attention span to torture Katherine for five hundred years. She doubted it. Carefully, Isobel cut her finger against her fang, and slipped a little blood between Elena's lips.
The bruise began to fade, and Elena's pulse became stronger, slowed a little.
Isobel climbed into the passenger seat of the car. "Drive," she told the man beside her, without looking up. "Drive safely. Stay in the speed limits. I'll tell you when to turn."
"Yes," he agreed.
They were an hour out of Mystic Falls when Isobel's phone rang. Isobel glanced at Elena, still fast asleep in the back seat. She accepted the call, and steeled herself. "Are we good to go?"
Katherine sounded stressed. "I'm at your house," she said, "but we have to hurry. Damon knows your lodging tricks. It will take him all of twenty minutes to find out where you're staying."
Isobel nodded. "We'll be long gone before that." True, absolutely true; just not the 'we' Katherine was expecting.
"Good," Katherine said. A little out of breath. "How far are you?"
Isobel paused. "I'm sorry, Katherine," she said, and even meant it, a little. In the back seat, Elena began to stir. "I had to do what I was told. He wanted the moonstone and he wanted you."
What she didn't say was, there is only one person with a chance of making it through this alive, and she's my daughter. She didn't say you've already had five centuries.
She didn't say anything; just disconnected the call. Maddox would be causing Katherine unimaginable pain, by now, and Isobel didn't want to listen to her screams.
This part of Virginia was so pretty, this time of year. A fitting place to die. Isobel laid a hand over her necklace, and glanced behind her at Elena, who was sitting up, scowling.
"You have the Petrova fire," Isobel said.
Elena narrowed her eyes, and did not answer. With that expression on her face she looked so much like Katherine it was almost funny.
And she would never be a vampire. Never. The thought made Isobel immensely grateful.
She indicated the driver should enter the cemetery. When he had come to a stop, close to Isobel's fake grave, she nodded. "Look at me," she said.
He obeyed.
"Once we're out of the car, drive away. Forget everything that happened today."
"I'll forget," he agreed. Strangely – Isobel supposed he must have been a real gentleman – he opened his door, and climbed down from the seat, stumbling slightly, to open Elena's door for her. Elena still sat, arms crossed, eyes straight ahead.
Isobel narrowed her eyes. "Just because you can't be compelled, doesn't mean I can't force you to come with me," she said.
Petulant as all get-out, Elena climbed from the car, and followed behind. She was too curious to pout for long, anyway. "So is that what happened?" Elena asked. "You were compelled to betray Katherine?"
Isobel shrugged. "If I was, I couldn't tell you," she said.
Elena frowned. Not afraid; angry. Still more interested in protecting her friends than herself. Isobel found herself wishing Elena had Katherine's sense of self-preservation, instead of this martyr complex. "So you lied. You did find Klaus, didn't you? He knows where I am now. Are you taking me to him?"
Isobel stopped in front of her grave site.
Elena frowned, seeing the name on the headstone. "What is this?"
Isobel took a deep breath, and smiled. She felt strangely free. "My parents… your grandparents, they put it here when it became clear that the police weren't gonna find my body. They visit every week, and they bring flowers, even though there's no one buried here."
Elena watched Isobel closely, arms still tense at her sides. If this was going to be Elena's final memory of Isobel – and the horror would come soon, Isobel knew – she wanted Elena to see that she was more than just a monster, first.
She sighed, gazing at the faded flowers. "The Isobel they knew is dead. So maybe there's a part of me that's buried here, the… the human part, the part that I abandoned when I chose to become a vampire, the part that used to dream about the day that… she'd know her daughter."
And that girl – that Isobel – was never real. Elena didn't need to know it. Didn't need to know that the mother part of Isobel was relatively new. Elena was real; Elena was intensely real. Elena had no dress-up box where her heart should be; and her face right now was as raw as anything Isobel had ever seen. Hopeful, sad. Hurt.
The only Isobel who had been real was the wife she was to Alaric when they were first married; and this, now, the mother, the destroyer. Doing the last decent thing she would ever do. The first decent thing in a long time.
"What?" Elena asked, disbelieving.
Isobel shrugged. "… instead you got to meet the other part. The part that would betray her own flesh and blood."
In her pocket, Isobel's phone rang. When she answered it, Maddox spoke in his low growl. "I have Katherine and the moonstone. Is the doppelgänger safe?"
Isobel nodded. The moment of truth. "Yes," she said. Now she would find out whether Klaus was keeping his promise. Either way she had to pray that John knew what he was doing. That the Salvatores did.
Maddox's booming voice was a little gentler than usual. "Then let her go," he said.
Isobel wanted to cry. "Let her go?"
"Klaus has everything he needs for now. Your part is finished. You did what he compelled you to do."
"I'm done?" Isobel met Elena's eyes. Elena's hopeful, cautious eyes.
"You're done," Maddox promised.
Isobel ended the call, and took a deep breath.
Elena frowned. "Who was that?"
Isobel let her eyes close for a long moment, but thinking better of it, decided to let her last moment be spent drinking in her daughter's sweet face.
"I'm so sorry, Elena," she said. "That I was such a disappointment to you."
For a glorious second, she thought Elena was going to argue; but she couldn't, wouldn't wait to see if it would happen.
Isobel gripped the pendant around her neck, and pulled. Felt the chain tear at the skin on the back of her neck. For a moment, a brief, glorious moment, she thought perhaps it would be painless.
It wasn't painless.
Isobel felt her skin begin to blister, and smoke, and she smelled – smelled – her flesh cook, and time stopped meaning very much, because surely it had only been a second or two but everything telescoped – it had been hours, days, since the rays of sun had begun to burn her.
As Isobel caught fire, heard the flames begin to lick, she saw Alaric's face, the way he was at the beginning – serenading her, asking her to stay the night; forgiving her for ruining his life – twice – saw him propose to her in front of a room full of people whose faces were joyful, if incredulous. Saw him learning to dance, for their wedding.
Only the good memories, only the best ones.
Isobel saw Aunt Gen, as well, dancing in the living room with her wine glass and making the records skip. She saw Aunt Gen dancing with John, too, John who had been such a beautiful boy, and so kind, giving her the marshmallows she knew he loved, just to make her smile. Kissing her for the very first time that second summer in Mystic Falls, asking Aunt Gen if he could take her to a party.
She saw John's angry tears the day Elena was born and Isobel handed her over to Miranda and Grayson, but she blinked the image away.
Isobel kept burning. She heard a terrible scream, and thought for a moment it was Elena. It wasn't Elena. It was Isobel herself.
Mostly, Isobel saw her. Elena. Saw her years into the future, older, married to a human man and surrounded by her own children. Bright and beautiful and always human, so human. All of this behind her; no Salvatores. No Klaus.
No Mystic Falls.
The light began to fade, and Isobel mostly saw nothing; and hoped she would see that and only that for all eternity.
