Chapter 9: Recantation

(Reference: 1x13 "Children of the Damned", 1x14 "Fool Me Once", and 1x15 "A Few Good Men")

A/N: Alright, this one feels a little rushed, but there's just so much happening in here that I didn't have the time I would normally take for introspective character analyses.


Elena

I sit on the far bed, my back braced against the wall as I watch Anna's pretty face spasm with a million contrasting emotions as she listens to the voice at the other end of the phone.

I can't make it out, but the reemergence of a familiar name tells me more than I need to know. I find myself distracted from the danger of my current situation by the thought. Who is this girl who has somehow managed to ingratiate herself into my life—through Damon, Stefan, even my school—without ever telling us her real name? And what in the world does she want with me?

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good hostage," Anna quips. She sounds bitingly sarcastic but there's a twinge of…fondness? Anger? Embarrassment, maybe?

There's a pause as the voice responds, and Anna's mouth twists with irritation.

"And what flaw would that be?"

She laughs mockingly at the answer. "What, you and the Salvatore's? Thanks, but I think I can handle myself just fine."

This time the pause is longer and for the first time, Anna looks genuinely scared—terrified even—but there's an undercurrent of reckless determination that says it doesn't matter.

"You'd be surprised what I'm willing to do to get my mother back." By the end of the sentence, her voice almost breaks with emotion. Almost. "That's all I want, Dia."

The nickname clues me in. They're friends.

Whatever Lia's saying though, it's not making a difference. If anything, she only looks more determined, the anger flooding in. That's when I make the connection. The emotion I saw before that I couldn't place? It was hurt.

"But you know where it is," Anna snaps. "At least, your boys do. And I have the witch. So one of you better meet me in the very public town square in three hours. That should give you plenty of time to get it. Then we can discuss how fun it's going to be to work together." She hangs up.

As much as I want to hate her—for tricking Jeremy, kidnapping Bonnie, kidnapping me—my heart goes out to Anna. She just wants her mother back. I can understand that perfectly well. I just wish her way of doing so didn't mean unleashing 26 murderous vampires on my hometown.


Stefan

After Lia—Nadia?—hangs up the phone, tossing it to the foot of the bed in front of me, she turns to my brother then to me with a look I would not recognize if I had not seen it for some 160 years on my brother's face: defiant embarrassment.

"So…on a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?" she asks me.

Mad? The word doesn't even begin to cover it. In the span of a single phone call, I discover that not only has my brother's best friend been lying about her name which I might have understood on some level, but it turns out she's been scheming behind our backs knowing why Elena looks the way she does, knowing what it means, and never bothering to tell us any of it!

Add to that, the fact that if she had just mentioned to one of us that Anna was seeing Jeremy, Elena wouldn't be missing right now!

I can still hear that phone call on constant replay in my mind.

"Revenge."

"What, you and the Salvatore's? Thanks, but I think I can handle myself just fine."

"Well, I'm flattered by the implication, but, no, I was actually referring to a certain big bad Original Vampire with daddy issues from here to the Pacific and a penchant for throwing mass-murdering tantrums when anybody messes with his magic blood bag. Remember Katarina?"

Somehow I know that if I could understand half of that sentence, I would have all the answers I could ever want to keep Elena safe. And she won't share them. I doubt she would have now if she'd had her way.

She didn't so much as hint that she knew anything more than we did until Anna blew the top off the whole conspiracy with a single word: Nadia.

I don't know how long I have been silent till the absurd laughter of my hysterical brother makes its presence known in my thoughts.

I must look confused because Damon offers as explanation through his uncontrollable giggles, "Your face!"

I really have no idea what he finds funny about this situation, but something about the sound of genuine mirth from my normally sardonic brother shocks me speechless. Nadia's lips twitch as she fights to hide her own smile.

"Ok, seriously. Now is not the time. Elena is in danger!"

That does it. Like ice water on a hot flame, his mirth is instantly quelled. The silence is thick, the tension oppressive, and we need to go.

I've got a girlfriend to save.


Damon

I just—I can't even—this whole thing is just utterly, exhaustively, unbelievably ridiculous. There's no way life works this way. No way, this is real. Even in a world where vampires, witches, necromancers, exist this can't possibly be real.

And I'm borderline psychotic at the best of times, but even to me this is insane.

I feel like someone popped the lid off a can of those prank snake toys and just blasted the world to hell in Technicolor—like every one impossible shock rolls right into the next until we're drowning in a sea of impossible things so absurd I can hardly wrap my head around it. Somebody, throw me a life-preserver.

On top of that, I've known for months now that Z was keeping a tight lid on her own Pandora's box of spectacular fucking wonders with a death grip that would make a Titan proud, and we haven't even begun to sift through those.

Z would say, 'Bedá nikogdá ne prihódit odná': Trouble never comes alone.

And when I saw every one of the infinite spectrum of violent, vivid, emotions that I have felt one right after the other since I got to this town flit across Stefan's face, screaming incredulity all at once, I just…broke.

If someone had told me a year ago, I'd be sitting here right now with an immortal lock-box of a necromancer, and my sainted brother, discussing how to rescue a human cheerleader the spitting image of my back-stabbing psycho ex from an immortal preteen with severe mommy issues, after finding out said ex left me to obsess over rescuing her from a magically sealed prison for one hundred and forty five years that she was never in, I'd have ripped his heart out.

I'm just—I'm just so done.

"Damon?" I feel the press of her small hand in mine and I blink.

This is my life. Welcome to the Circus.


Nadezhda

I'm admittedly concerned about both these boys right now. I mean, Stefan's glaring daggers at me like I should be dropping dead on the spot while Damon just stares off at a wall into la la land. Cue the drama.

"Alright, Stefan," I instruct, "You and Damon both said you know where the grimoire is, right?"
He gives me a tight nod. "Excellent, well why don't one or both of you go do that while I go talk to Anna?"

He's already shaking his head in adamant denial before I've even finished the question. "No, no. Absolutely not. She made it perfectly clear that we need to get the book, then meet with her. What if she takes it out on Elena when we don't listen? Huh? We don't even know where she is."

"Actually, Stefan, I do know. Besides, she won't hurt her. She took her more to scare us than anything," I assure him. "As long as we're acting in good faith, she wouldn't dare. It's way too risky."

He doesn't look convinced. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I'll explain later, but you were right. We need to move," I say.

Squeezing my hand reflexively—I doubt he knows it's there—Damon says, "I'll get the spell-book. Dad doesn't need two sons robbing his grave." The last he says for Stefan's benefit. I suppose it's his way of protecting his brother from bones he put in the ground.

"Actually," I say, as an idea occurs to me. "Stefan, you should go speak to Sheila. We're going to need her help to open the tomb, and I'm fairly certain she'd be more likely to do you a favor than either of us."

Though God knows why, I add silently.

"Why would she help?" Stefan scoffs. "If we manage to find and free Elena and Bonnie without giving up the book, why would she do that?"

"For Emily's book, of course," I answer.

"Why would we even want to?" Damon asks, voice rough. "There's nothing in there for us." And by 'we' he means 'me'.

"Just in case?" I shrug. "Not that I think it will come to that, but it would be nice to know we had the option. Besides, never hurts to have a witch owe you a favor."

I look at these two—my rag-tag team of doppelganger guardians—Stefan looks worried and…well more worried, and Damon's slipping that game-face back on like it never left though it's a little cracked. As one, we nod, and scatter. Divide and conquer, and all that.


Bonnie

When Anna came to get me, I was relieved. If it was the only way to get out of that tiny bathroom with Ben, I'd take it. I was still equal parts terrified and mortified to have been so easily duped by him. Am I really that pathetically desperate for a guy to notice me that I was taken in by a vampire with a pretty face?

It's especially galling knowing that it took only the slightest touch to realize my mistake. What kind of a witch am I if I can't even recognize a vampire when I see one?

And now, Elena's in danger and it's all my fault. Ben said they only took her for leverage against me to get in that tomb. It's the last thing I want to do. There's no way I can do it. I can't knowingly unleash a tomb full of vampires on our town. But if it means keeping my best friend safe, I may not have a choice.

How I wish vampires had never come to this town. Things would be so much easier.

Even with the magic thing, life would be much simpler—more normal—if Stefan and his no good, evil brother had never come to Mystic Falls.

Elena wouldn't be in danger, I wouldn't have been possessed by my ghost ancestor from the 1800s and had my throat ripped out for the trouble. I just wish things could go back to the way they used to be.

I wish we could go back to when people were what they looked like, and not some murderous, blood-thirsty monster in disguise.

Looking at Anna now in her little girl body and her innocent looking face, it's almost grotesque. The idea that someone that looks so sweet and innocent could be capable of this—could be hiding that demon's face full of blood and fangs behind a soft smile—is just…chilling. Ben is bad enough; Anna is horrifying.

There's a sharp rap on the motel door, and goes to answer while Ben leers at us in wait. I watch as Anna opens the door to reveal…Natalia Salvatore, our substitute English teacher, though I remember her as something else entirely.

I know from Elena that she has shown herself capable of kindness. She somehow, terrifyingly, brought a friend of Stefan's back to life, and for whatever reason seems to have made a positive impression on my best friend, but all that I know of her is what I have in my memories.

The night Emily destroyed the crystal using my body is vague and hazy at best—just flashes of the unbridled rage on her face flickering between flames—but I still remember the fear like ice in my blood at the utter disinterest on her face when I begged her for help.

Looking back, I can see that it was her loyalty to Damon that prompted it as well as whatever happened that night, but that is hardly a comforting thought. If anything, it only makes it worse.

I see that same lack of concern now as she stands there in her solid black attire broken only by the screaming blue feather in her right ear. The studs of her leather jacket highlight the silver line beneath her cold eyes. She glances between Elena and I held hostage in a skeevy motel by two homicidal, crazed vampires.

She gives us a brief once over, smirks, and then promptly forgets all about us.

"Anna Banana," she greets in what seems genuine cheer and affection. Did she have something to do with this? I look at Elena, incredulous, but she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Scared, but not surprised. Actually, I might even see relief there.

"Dia?" Anna returns warily.

'Dia' cocks her head toward the hall, still smiling smugly. "Can we talk?" she asks.

Anna tenses, sounding angry and firm again. "Do you have the grimoire?"

"The boys are getting it," 'Dia' shrugs. "I came to strike a deal." Deal? What is that supposed to mean?

I can't see Anna's face, but I watch her head tilt slightly. It looks like curiosity.

Rather than respond, Anna abruptly turns to face us. Glaring at Ben, she orders "I'm going out for a bit. Keep them buttoned down."

She grabs her coat as she says this, then, irritated, she reminds, "Compulsion won't work. Just use violence."

She brushes past 'Dia' on her way out the door, bumping her shoulder intentionally. The vampire who up till now I've known as Natalia gives a secret smile when she notices my stare. She winks, and leaves.

We are so screwed.


Nadezhda

I follow Anna as she stalks determinedly through the frigid air of Virginia winter, seemingly headed for the town square she mentioned earlier.

I let her get ahead of me, trailing slowly behind to allow the distance between us to lengthen with each successive stride. No use speeding up the process.

I texted Damon the address as soon as I found them—wasn't hard—and now I only need to stall for time while he rushes dashingly to the rescue.

Might as well stop and enjoy the drama while I can. It's a good thing too because the space between us allows me to observe her conversation with one Jeremy Gilbert without being pulled into it.

I listen with amusement as she apologizes for running out on him—to kidnap his sister, I add silently—and agrees to meet him at some small-town underage kegger at the cemetery later.

It's adorable, really, because despite the fact that the location is convenient to her plans, I get the impression she would have happily said yes anyway. I think she honestly likes him.

See, this here is why I didn't tell Stefan or Elena about Anna's extracurricular activities with the youngest Gilbert. I knew they would judge and try to put a stop to it (because apparently neither of them are subject to their own high-handed rules) and end up making everyone miserable in the process.

Anna may be a few hundred years old and a vampire, but she's still a 15 year old girl with a crush in moments like this. Not to mention, she has far more self-control than a younger vampire would. She's less of a threat to Jeremy than Stefan is to Elena. I would have happily kept their secret if I could have.

She strolls away with a small smile and a flustered look before reaching the bench and glaring at me across the way. I sigh and appear beside her.

"You know, you two are really cute together," I say with a smile.

I am gratified by the slight flutter of pleasure in her eyes before she battens it down and gets down to business. "You wanna talk deal?" she asks, skeptical. "Talk."

"What, no small talk amongst friends?" She glares. "Guess that's a no…" I mutter.

"I don't have time for this, Nadia," she snaps. "Were you serious about wanting to help before, or is this just another stalling tactic?"

Can't it be both? "I was serious, Ann," I sigh. "I would genuinely love to help you get Pearl back, I'm just a little stumped on how to avoid the running and screaming that comes after."

She scoffs, "They've been locked in a tomb for 145 years. I don't think they'll be running anywhere."

I arch an unimpressed eyebrow. "You know that's not what I'm talking about," I say. "The moment that door comes unsealed, all Katherine's secrets will too. I'm not ready for that, are you?"

She looks unsure for a moment, but argues, "I just want my mother back. I don't care about anyone else."

I figured that, but that's not my only worry. "You think you can keep Pearl quiet?"

Anna looks offended, but I press on, "Look, we don't need the heat this is gonna bring if she starts screaming about Katarina's duplicity, ok? The last thing we need is an Original Vampire in town looking for revenge and our favorite doppelganger."

She nods. "You know it's going to come out eventually, though? One way or another."

"Maybe," I agree. "But why rush it?"

I stare out across the park. The cold air burns my cheeks, the bare skin of my chest pebbles beneath the slashed fabric of my scandalous neckline, and my fingers turn to ice while I pause in thought.

"Alright, Stefan's over at Sheila Bennet's negotiating her cooperation and Damon should have the book by now. When do you want to do this?"

She smiles in gratitude as she stands to leave. I can see my friend make a brief reappearance in the expression. "Tonight. After sundown. Meet at the church."

We'll see, but I have a feeling Elena is the deciding factor.


Damon

I'm cracking open my father's coffin with a shovel when I get the text. Seems there was more than one reason for sending Stefan to Grandma's House. I'm not entirely sure what Z's up to with all this stuff lately, but, if she's intent on playing matchmaker, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

The motel housing Elena and Sabrina is seedy and unassuming, broken-down in disrepair. I shudder to imagine the inspection rating. Not surprising. Mystic Falls is hardly an attractive vacation destination.

Frankly, this rescue mission is more than a little anticlimactic. The sun is high in the sky and the only moves required to incapacitate the moron Anna left on guard duty are some drape ripping theatrics.

"Damon?!" Elena sounds surprised to see me, but not entirely displeased. Bonnie, on the other hand, looks like she'd rather take her chances with the demon bartender. Well, that can be arranged.

I give Elena a quick once over with my eyes as I throw open the door. When I'm satisfied she's still in one piece I gesture them through, "Go on."

The smile she throws my way as she does is all the thanks I need. The hero thing's not so bad, after all.

Turning to the quivering mess of singed vampire on the floor, I feel a surprising twinge of disgust at the thought of killing him. He's just so pathetic already that it hardly seems worth the effort.

Eh, what are you gonna do? I pull the stake from my belt and shove it home. No use leaving minions lying around.

I catch up to them half-way up the sidewalk, link my arms with theirs, and walk them to the car.

Good times.


Stefan

Sheila Bennet would make a formidable enemy. It's a thought I had the moment I first met her here in the sixties. I remember hearing her speak with such resonance, a quiet dignity and self-assurance about her that leant such strength, such meaning to her words. I was in awe.

That hasn't changed in 40 years and as I sit here now at her kitchen table, honored to have even been invited to it, I can't help the slightest twinge of shame for asking her to betray her principles which then and still now mean so much to us both.

"Please, I wouldn't ask this of you if I had any other choice. And, if Lia accomplishes what she set out to this morning, it won't be necessary. I just need to know that you are willing to help us if it comes to that."

I see my own fear and hesitation reflected on her face at this, but it is quickly replaced with the dawning light of a new idea and the confidence to see it through.

"Maybe it won't," she says, as she rummages through a stack of papers in the corner and emerges with a map of the town. "If Bonnie and Elena are together, I should be able to do a locator spell to find them both."

"Too late!" My brother's teasing voice precedes, by a scant few seconds, the incredible music of running footsteps on laminate floors. The sigh which escapes me at the sound slumps me forward in my chair as a weight lifts from my chest.

"Grams!" "Stefan!" The girls shout, equaling our own joy at the sight of them, as they wrap their respective loved ones in a warm embrace. My heart leaps at the feel of her in my arms again.

"Yeah, this is nice and all," Damon says with his usual cynicism, "but I'm getting kinda cold out here so if you don't mind…" he gestures pointedly at the threshold which bars his path.

Sheila scoffs. "You got some nerve asking a Bennet which for anything," she responds coldly.

Damon is unfazed by her ire. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?" he pouts, waving a very old leather bound book in his hand. "I come bearing gifts."

Elena looks up at me, something in her eyes that strikes a painful, burning chord in my gut. It looks like sympathy. "Stefan, he did just save us."

Damon bats his eyelashes from the doorway.

I glance at Sheila for her take on this. She looks aggrieved, but begrudgingly grateful.

With a tone of the deepest regret, she sighs, "Come in."

He smiles smugly as he enters the house.

As he walks toward me I ask, "What happened with Anna?"

He shrugs, looking unconcerned. "Z's dealing with it."

"And where is she…?"

"Out here!" sounds a distant yell from the front yard. The four of us, wary and a bit curious, crowd in the doorway.

Lia (or I guess, Nadia, now…though Damon calls her Z) strikes a proud pose beyond the porch, a huge flamethrower propped against her cocked hip and a high-heeled boot of studded leather, greeting us with a Cheshire cat grin.

"Look what I found, D!" she yells excitedly.

He hoots delightedly and trots forward to run a hand almost lovingly down the long nozzle of their new toy, though I notice he still has the spell book. The childish glee they each display at the mere thought of what they could accomplish with such a weapon makes me a little uneasy.

I can just imagine the two of them setting a town on fire for the hell of it then dancing naked on the ashes. I shudder at the image.

"What is that for?" Elena asks worriedly. Smart girl.

Z's manic giggling pauses for a moment when she answers, somewhat incredulous to the question, "Well, for the rest of the tomb vampires of course. You know, once we get Pearl out?"

The four of us on the porch exchange confused looks before turning back to her. She doesn't think we're still doing this, does she? We have everything we need. None of us have any reason to open the tomb.

Sheila voices my thoughts when she declares, "Now that my granddaughter and her friend are safe, we have no interest in opening that tomb. And I'll have that grimoire now." She extends a hand as though to receive it from Damon.

My brother doesn't look particularly bothered by the statement, but he looks concernedly at Lia anyway.

It's then I see the unbridled rage suddenly boiling in her grey-blue eyes. She snarls with the flickering of veins and the barest hint of fang before she lunges.

Seeing this, Sheila wraps an arm around Bonnie's shoulder and attempts to escape inside the house, but Lia is there before she can take a step.

Elena jumps and I attempt to intervene, but suddenly there is a firm grip on my arm that feels suspiciously like my brother's.

"Don't," he whispers under his breath and, somehow, it's reassuring.

"The hell you won't," Lia snarls and Sheila tenses. She pushes Bonnie protectively away from the angry vampire. I don't think I've ever actually seen her afraid until this moment.

"I gave a dear friend of mine my word that I would help her save her mother tonight, and I intend to do it. And unlike a certain witchy clan I could name, I don't break deals."

Sheila holds her ground and I prepare to fight in her defense when Elena's voice breaks the silence, shocking me to my core with her words. "She's right," she declares. All but Lia stare at her, dumb-founded. "Anna won't stop. We have to let her have her mother back."

The anger has left Lia's face to be replaced by a strangely proud smile and a softness in her eyes when she looks on Elena. She doesn't even look surprised.

"Besides, if we kill the rest than where's the harm. Anna and her mother will leave, and this will all be over," she presses. "It's the right thing to do."

Lia nods deferentially at this last. Her eyes are laughing.


Elena

I don't know what came over me back there, siding with a vampire that looked two inches from ripping Bonnie's Grams' throat out, but it just felt…right.

Besides, it's true that no matter what we do, Anna's not going to stop trying to open that tomb. Who knows what she might do next time? She'd clearly do anything to get her mother back, and I can't really say that I blame her. I would.

Somehow, even though I know I made the right call, it's Lia's proud smile I can't get out of my head. She looked like she knew what I'd do and was thrilled when I proved her right.

What does that mean?

The Bennet's and Stefan go on ahead with the grimoire and the flame-thrower—Lia looked downright pained to give it up—while Damon, Lia, and I bring up the rear. She seemed to think it best that the three of us meet with Anna before heading to the tomb. I don't know why, but she seemed so certain that I'm inclined to trust her.

Damon has a hand to the small of my back—protectively almost—while Lia trails a little behind, boxing me in.

I'm sort of puzzled by their behavior (Did I scare them that much?), but I suppose we'll have to deal with it later. It's long past sundown.

As we walk through the woods on the way to the church, we are greeted by the sight of a large bonfire and the smell of alcohol. The sounds of music and teenage laughter as we enter the grounds remind me that this time last year, I was at this party.

"The Duke party, I forgot," I mutter. "I hope they stay away from the church."

"Your hope; not mine," Damon quips.

I barely have it in me to conjure up a decent retort when Matt and Caroline overtake us.

"Elena, hi," Matt says, all bundled up in a vest and a snow cap.

"Elena. Oh my God. Where have you been?" Caroline comes up on his other side and, noting Damon's proximity to me, not so casually links her hand with Matt's. Part of me wants to reassure her, but we really don't have the time.

"Long story. No time to tell it," Damon rudely interjects.

She attempts a glare, "Wasn't talking to you."

His eyes flare sarcastically. "Sure you were."

"Hey, I'm Matt. We haven't met," Matt, sweet guy that he is, introduces himself while extending a hand to Damon.

He eyes it with distaste and simply says, "Matt, there's a reason we haven't met."

"Move it or lose it, love birds!" Lia exclaims. In her dark attire, she seems to sneak up on us out of nowhere as she gives us both a rather strong shove in the right direction. She doesn't even bother to respond to their chimed greetings behind us as we go.

"God, I hate teen drama," she grumbles to herself. Damon's smirk says he's inclined to agree.

The light fades away to a thickly enclosed darkness the further we stray from the bonfire behind us. Though I can make out the flickering of another in the distance, from where I stand now, I can hardly make out the ground beneath my feet.

I'm suddenly thankful for Damon's steadying presence and Lia's easy confidence as their enhanced vampire vision illuminates their way.

We walk in silence as we approach the ruins of the old church and I wonder if they're not more unnerved by all this than I gave them credit for. Perhaps it's anticipation or else exhaustion, but they each seem content to keep their own confidence.

There's a rather large crater in the ground beneath the old church and I make out the weathered remains of a stone staircase before we descend into the tomb below.

Inside, the torch-lit cavern walls close in on all sides and I feel as though I have at least a tiny taste of what it would feel like to be trapped under the weight of these stone walls. Seconds in, they make me nervous. I can't begin to imagine what a century and a half here would do to someone.

Bonnie and her grams, under the four point markers of unlit torches, draw a circle in the dirt. Walking the circumference, Sheila lights the torches one by one. "Air, Earth, Fire," she says with each new flame.

"Water," Bonnie says, handing it off. Her Grams sprinkles the final element from the confines of a plastic water bottle.

Incredulously, I wonder aloud, "That's it? Water from the tap?"

Sheila doesn't seem offended by the question. If anything, she looks rather amused. She arches an eyebrow. "As opposed to what?"

"I just figured it would have to be…blessed or mystical or something."

She chuckles.

The light clacking sound of a pebble on the stone steps behind me alerts us to her presence, before Anna appears at the top of the stairway. Despite my earlier championing of her cause, I feel my heart rate jump at the sight of her. Just a bit.

She looks around at our accumulated numbers, noting the ritual preparations, before meeting Lia's eyes and sighing in relief. I think she almost can't believe we really came through. She offers Lia a grateful smile and rounds the circle to meet her nearer the tomb's entrance beside me.

Lia doesn't speak, but her eyes do it for her. There's the slightest crinkling of plastic and she removes something bagged and dark red from her coat.

"What is that?" Stefan asks dumbly.

She hands it off to Anna as she answers, "Beautification elixir. What do you think?" She rolls her eyes mockingly.

"We're ready," Bonnie tells us. Here we go.

Inside the circle, the Bennets link hands, eyes tightly closed in focus, and begin to chant.

"What are they saying?" Damon asks rhetorically.

"I think it's Latin," Stefan mutters.

"I don't think it's Latin," I say. There's something about it that sounds and feels so deep and old, uncanny. Too uncanny for such a cliché dead language.

They chant for what seems like hours but is probably only minutes before the pentagram carved into the heavy stone of the tomb's entrance opens to reveal the darkness within. Anna watches anxiously as it does, holding a flashlight beam to illuminate the path.

"It worked," Bonnie breathes, sounding shocked.

"Of course it worked," her Grams replies.

"Come on. Stefan," Damon says, crossing the cave to the discarded flamethrower and gas tanks. "We've got some fires to build."

Quick as a snake, Anna wraps a strong hand around my arm and drags me toward the open doorway.

Everyone jumps. A chorus of 'what are you doing's and 'let her go's sound in the air, but Lia stands between us and Anna pulls me back.

"Don't you take her in there," Sheila warns, but she doesn't leave the circle. "I'll bring the walls down."

"What, you think I'm dumb enough to walk in there with no leverage?" she snaps. "No thanks. I'd rather not be locked in a tomb for all eternity."

"It's ok," I hear myself saying, staring in Stefan's worried eyes. "I get it. She needs to know that you're not going to lock her in when she gets inside. I'll go."

Everyone freezes at that, either unsure how to respond or just resigned to the inevitable.

"Fine," Lia says, shocking me, before flashing to the corner to grab one of the gasoline tubs.

She exchanges an odd look with Damon that I can't even begin to place. He nods tightly. There is a rush of air and she returns. "But I'm coming with you."

Torch and flashlights in hand, we turn as one and, in single file, cross the threshold.


Nadezhda

I know Damon needed the reassurance that someone he trusts ensure Katherine's absence—as well as Elena's safety though I doubt he'd admit it—but there is more reason than this that sent me over the barrier.

The truth is, I know enough about witches to recognize a powerful spell when I see one and I know our time here is limited. The Bennet's may be a powerful lineage, but holding back this seal is going to take a hell of a lot of energy and I'm not about to trust in the flagging strength of a couple exhausted witches to save me from desiccation via entombment.

Not to mention, there is no way this town's worth of immortal liabilities makes it out of here. I've got my work cut out for me with the one's I've got, thank you.

The breathy groans of rotting, starving vampires fill the air and I feel Elena tense beside me.

"What is that?" she asks in fear.

"They can sense you," Anna answers rather disinterestedly as she scans the walls of grey and be-veined bodies for any sign of the one she most wants.

"Stay close to me," I mutter to Elena, brushing her arm with mine as I make my way to the back of the tomb, casting my torch briefly over each face as I do.

Truthfully, I understand her fear. Beyond the obvious, even to a human there's a certain vibe about this place that seems to scream danger and a suppressed power. To me, it sings. 27 magically sustained undead corpses are like…it's like the Holy Grail to a necromancer.

I wonder if there's a way to harness this energy with their deaths…

"Mama!" I hear Anna's teary voice cry out in the distance. I allow myself a small smile as we reach the end, and prepare for the violent work ahead.

"Trade ya?" I say to Elena, glancing pointedly at the flashlight.

I hand Elena the torch and unscrew the cap on the gasoline jug. There is just enough light from the outer chamber with the small flashlight to make out the bodies if not their faces, and I'd rather not be holding an open flame while I do this.

"Head on out," I instruct her, sloshing gasoline on the first line of victims. "Send Damon in with the other jug and flamethrower if you can." She nods, wide-eyed, and practically runs to the entrance. Not that I blame her. It was extraordinarily brave of her to even come in here in the first place.

I've finished dousing this compartment liberally with the gasoline when I hear the shouting.

Between the sounds of the desiccated vampires and the rush of power I feel in their presence, I can't really make it out. I'm not overly worried, however. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. Probably just more teen drama anyway.

I'm making the last turn when their words reach me. Oddly enough, it's not Elena's hysterical cries or Anna's growls that I hear, but rather the quiet hiss of Damon's threatening whisper.

"If you don't open that door and let her out, I will rip your little grand-witch here to pieces before you can even blink."

Hooy na ny!# Are you shitting me?! They were just going to leave us in here? I mean, I know I've hardly done a thing to endear them to me, but God damn it we made a deal!

I can hear them start chanting and the slide of feet on rock that indicates Anna's exit, but now I'm out of gas with at least half a dozen vampires left to go and seconds to get my ass out of here. Fuck it, I'm running.

When I get out, I barely spare a glance for Damon before ripping the second jug from his hand.

"Hold it just a little longer," I order the—as predicted—struggling witches.

Tearing off the lid, I throw it into the tomb as far as I can. I hear it hit the wall and pour over the remaining vampires. At least, I hope so. I take the torch from Elena—for some reason she's still holding it—and toss it in.

"Done." The door slams shut and the screaming begins.

I smile.


Damon

Bracing herself against the stone doorframe Z begins to chant. It's quiet and unintelligible and even the other vampires in the room probably don't notice, but I do and I recognize the stance.

Z may have very little value for human life—sort of a by-product of spending centuries feeding off it—but that doesn't mean she doesn't respect it. This respect is multiplied a thousand fold for vampires.

In a sense, harnessing the power released by their final death knell is her way of honoring their sacrifice.

My mind is a whirlpool of conflicting emotions at the moment, but the one I feel most strongly is relief that she is here, leaning against the outside of that doorway. Fairly quickly, the rest of our company departs.

Anna and Pearl had slinked away the moment they crossed the barrier, the witches had fled from my wrath the moment that barrier closed, and Stefan dragged Elena away the moment she let him after a wide-grin of relief flashed across her features at the same time one did mine.

Gratitude to her is probably next on the list of prevailing emotional currents after rage. She was so brave and so fierce tonight in defense of her principles, her desire to do what she had dubbed 'the right thing'. First with Anna, then with Z.

I couldn't have cared less about Anna and Pearl, though I have nothing against the girl really, but I felt utterly helpless when the witches refused to free my friend while she set about protecting them. This is the last time I even allow tentative trust for a Bennet to enter my mind. They're back-stabbing turn-coats. All of them.

I watch as dark, serpentine veins shift beneath her skin and can only imagine the rippling effects they make beneath her leather jacket.

I've stood here in the past as she stood bare before me, her back exposed, and watched as the ebb and flow of power moved beneath her flesh, filling her veins, and setting those tattooed wings to shifting and flapping beneath the candlelight.

It is an awesome sight.

The sudden flash of lightening illuminates the cave, setting every ridge and stone in sharp relief, a stark whiteness eradicating shadow in a single moment. The clash of thunder follows just as quickly and the pour of a sudden storm fills the night.

Her fingers flex and clench with it as her back tenses and releases when the flow of power reaches its end. The chanting stops and I hear her breath return. Only the screaming remains.

"Damon," she says softly, turning to me, and the look of sympathy I see there brings my thoughts to a crashing halt. The final feeling wells in me: bitter disappointment and a fresh wave of grief.

We leave before the silence tolls their final end.


Bonnie

I can't believe it. I can't…I feel as though the air around me has grown thick and viscous, pouring and rushing in my ears, obscuring my vision. The pressure is so intense I can hardly breathe. I can't move. Is this shock? Am I in shock? I just feel…numb.

In my mind, the only thing I can see is her cold, still, frozen, beloved face; can still feel the emptiness in my chest when I touched her.

It's been less than an hour since she held my hands to her chest, soothing me as the rush of our magic consumed me. She was so alive, so vivid, so real. How am I supposed to be here when she isn't?

My feet carry me to the boarding house before I think to direct them. I find myself standing still in the entrance to the big, cavernous central room as she sits comfortably on the couch, watching the fire. Somehow, the contentment on her face enrages me.

How dare she? How dare she sit there like she hasn't a care in the world while mine is falling apart? This is all her fault.

It was bad enough that Damon came, but at least he'd stopped chasing Katherine. If it hadn't been for her, we never would have opened the tomb. Never would have given that other vampire what she wanted. If it wasn't for her…my Grams would still be…here.

She has to fix this. I know she can fix this. It's her fault but she can make it right. She has to. She owes me that.

I don't realize I've spoken till I hear my words echoing in the space between us, ringing their pain and accusation through the yawning acoustics of high ceilinged grandeur. They seem to come from some deep recess of my broken aching heart, and I mean every word.

She is unmoved, arching a brow skeptically in reply. "Do I now?" she charges.

I stare into the face that haunted my nightmares for weeks, so similar as she sits before a hearth fire, the flames dancing across the contours of her face. When it isn't the pale, darkly handsome demon she calls her friend, it is hers I fear in the night. And she dares deny me this?

"You have to. You owe me," I hear myself say.

She cocks her head, blinking once, face expressionless. "You don't know what you're asking me for."

"I don't care," I whisper, my voice cracks on the words.

She scoffs, "You will."

Another hot, bright, searing flash of anger surges through me at this. She has no idea what I would be willing to do for family. She doesn't know me. She never bothered to.

No, she and Damon just stormed into my life, flipped it upside down for their own ends, then abandoned me to deal with the consequences. No more. I will not let these vampires take any more from me.

With this new strength in my conviction, I straighten my shoulders and repeat, "I don't care."

Her lips quirk in a condescending smile and I want to scream, rage, rail at her to care but I hold my ground.

She sets her glass down on the side-table—dark red liquid still clinging to the sides—and approaches me. Her steps are light, steady, predatory, and there is a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Fine," she says, and something eases in my chest. She smiles a bit, seeming to register this before continuing. It is her next statement that brings it all crashing back.

"Who do you want me to kill?"

I don't breathe again until my feet hit the road. They can't carry me fast enough.


General POV

Back in the tomb beneath Fell's Church, the screams of burning vampires still echo on the walls. Below the din, a single subtle drag of skin over stone can be heard and the heavy slab enclosing them shifts. A charred and shriveled hand crawls beneath.


A/N: For anyone confused by this last bit, I figure it's like this: In the show, the Bennet's manage to open the seal on the tomb long enough for our vampire super friends to escape, but when Sheila dies the seal somehow stays down. Yet, by the time Katherine shows up and Damon locks her in at the end of 2x7, it's somehow resealed? Add to that the fact that Harper, after licking some blood off the wall, somehow has enough energy to leave the tomb. Also, this apparently works for the other 25 vampires left? I call shenanigans. But, they're cannon shenanigans, so I guess they get a pass. Anyway, I figure if "wow, that wall over there smells really yummy" is considered sufficient motivation to escape a supernatural prison cell after a century and a half of desiccation, then "if I don't get the hell out of dodge, I'm gonna be vamp barbeque" should be too.

#Transliteration from Russian: means 'No fucking way'