This might need additional editing. The flow might be a bit choppy. But here it is anyway, in case anyone would like to read on a Sunday.

...

Previously: Down in the Pit, the second "group" of six have fought each other, Jeremy and Kol sacrificing themselves to keep their beloved ones alive. That means, out of everyone, only Bonnie, Rebekah, Vicky, Casey, Damon, and Enzo are still alive...

...

[Two days earlier]

...

Vicky hadn't seen it coming. Any of it, but certainly not the fact that she would even make it to the next round.

She had sat there, in a strange stupor of shock and disbelief and panic, and the aftershocks of being tased, when she had watched Bonnie Bennett stab her own boyfriend in the neck. Jeremy Gilbert was now dead, the same Jeremy she had once dated and had never really gotten over. The boy who should have probably escorted her home rather than bring her here, but even though she had been too drunk to fully understand where they had been headed, she couldn't really blame him. Now that the alcohol was out of her system, she remembered how excited she had been about going someplace else, away from Tyler, away from Matt, too (because the idiot had sided with his friend instead of his sister, and how dare he?!), and Jeremy had tried persuading her to go home for the longest time, until he had given up. Because how could you argue with someone who repeatedly said that she didn't want to go home, that she would just go off alone, see where it took her? No, it wasn't his fault that she was here.

Now Jeremy was dead, and she was still here. How was that possible? How was any of it possible? Leaning heavily against Enzo, she just kept staring on as the three survivors of the other group got tasered, too.

"He was ready to die for her," she breathed to herself, which was just as well, because her companion didn't seem to listen or care about anything, and kept rather quiet throughout it all.

So she fell quiet again, too, and waited some more. It wasn't like she could really do anything else. Soon, soon they would be thrown into the pool down there again, to fight each other once more. And aside from that guy Casey, all the others were friends.

Yeah, she highly doubted she would make it out of there alive. She simply couldn't see herself killing any of the others. Then again, if someone were to attack her…

Maybe doing nothing was the best option after all. Maybe they should all just be killed. (Would they really do that? Kill them all? Part of her still doubted they would kill them all off just like that. But hadn't she seen what they had done to that guy, Heath? They hadn't cared at all.)

Moments, or hours went by until she was roughly pulled up to her feet again and dumped back into the pool. Unlike Enzo, or Casey, she didn't even try to fight these self-proclaimed "guards". After all, what was the use? She'd just spend much needed energy on something futile.

"Everyone! Get ready for the Pit to claim its last three lives, and to turn the remaining humans into monsters!"

She cringed, pulling her shoulders up toward her ears as she heard that grating voice again. Closing her eyes she tried to zone out, block it out, to no avail. Would she ever get that voice out of her head again? She doubted it.

The real question, though, the real question was whether she would ever see her brother again? Or her mom. Yeah, even seeing her crazy alcoholic mom who was always dating the wrong guys (like freaking Guiseppe Salvatore. And what the hell was wrong with her?!), even that would be wonderful right about now. She wanted her mom, or, the memory of her when Vicky was still a child, to come save her, come scoop her up and cuddle her until she could forget this all ever happened.

Of course those thoughts were stupid.

When Sykes, the announcer, spoke his next words, she wasn't really listening. She was already back in the pool, staring at her feet. Her shoes had gotten missing at some point, not that it was important, and she was in the company of friends again. How bad could this still get?

She blinked as sudden images of Mazzy appearing in front of her, clawing at her, strangling her shot through her mind. Would it be worse than that? Probably. She had felt bad for the girl. She had actually been a sweetheart before, it was just... unfortunate...

"Here's the deal," that voice interrupted her displaced musings, "in case anyone has forgotten: we have six players and only three will make it out alive! No suicide, children! Remember?" He chuckled up there on his stupid balcony, echoed by his assholeish crowd. Vicky wanted to throw up in his face.

"You will have a little more time than before, so make your choices wisely, or fight well." Did he honestly just wink at her? She couldn't be sure, the light from above came in glaring beams, so she couldn't exactly see too well, and besides it didn't really matter anyways, did it? But, seriously?

"We give you eight hours. Once it's halftime, we will start filling the pool. By the time the water is up to the top, three of you will have to be dead by your own hands, just like before. And I mean, that's at the very latest. Feel free to kill each other off way before that. - But whichever way you choose to go, remember: if you don't halve your numbers, you will all die. Each and every one of you. And we don't want that." He waited, nodding, pouting, as if he was honestly worked up about it. He wasn't fooling anyone, of course, certainly not her, and of course it hadn't been his intention anyways. When he continued, Vicky quickly felt her heart thump all the way up into her throat.

"We want three of you to make it out of here. We do. Needless to say, though: you'll be closely monitored afterward, to make sure you don't talk about any of what happened here. But other than that, you'll be free. If you do talk, though … just think about it: there's no real way to track down any of us. Besides, you'll be the ones that will get charged with murder, and," he paused for dramatic effect, his audience going wild, "your loved ones back home might end up in the pit next time…"

Clenching her jaw, she finally understood. She had been puzzling about that fact. How they were going to ensure that none of the survivors talked. It had seemed pretty stupid to assume they wouldn't run straight to the police.

She felt a hysterical laugh build inside of her and worked hard to suppress it. How unfair this all was. And suddenly, suddenly, she didn't want to make it out of here alive anymore. Suddenly she just wanted to die already. Because she knew she would only endanger Matt if she made it out of this pool alive. And no matter whether she had been upset with him earlier, or whether they sometimes fought, he was her brother, he had always been there for her when it really mattered, the one person she loved above anyone else. He couldn't get into these people's hands. She wouldn't let that happen.

There was only one thing she could do about it now. Get herself killed, preferably fast, hoping she would have the courage to see it through. (Oh gosh, she didn't want to...)

…

Bonnie was in shock. She didn't remember making it out of the pool or being lowered back down into it (or if they had even been taken out after the tasers had hit.)

All she remembered, all her thoughts were revolving around was Jeremy's face, pained, yet with a smile, and the blood, all that blood, all over his shirt. All over her, too. Looking down, she still saw it stain her hands, felt the stickiness of it, and yet it felt so unreal. Like somehow, he wasn't dead, was still here.

He had to be. He couldn't be dead. Because if he really was, she had really killed him. She had killed him. Bonnie Bennett, straight A student and obedient granddaughter was a murderer. Heaving in a labored breath, she fought to not collapse, stumbling against Damon as she tried to keep on her feet.

"You alright, Bon?"

She stared at him, briefly annoyed at what a stupid question that was, but then the terror and grief won over and she just shook her head, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

"No," she sobbed, "I'm not."

A hand gently descended to the crown of her head, a soft nudge pushing her into Damon's embrace as he tried to soothe her. "I know," he muttered. "But I will get you out of here, Bonnie. We will get out of here together and…"

And what? Even Damon didn't seem to know, as his words just ebbed away. Was there even going to be an "after" for them? Wouldn't everything be tainted by this? The pit?

"I don't think I can go on anymore." She didn't know why she said it out loud, or why to him, but she had to say it and somehow, he felt safe. The one safe place she still had down here.

"I'll do it for you. Just promise me you'll stay by my side and do as I say. Can you do that?"

Looking up at him, his light eyes too bright and beautiful for such a dark place, she nodded, pressing her lips together so as to stop her chin from wobbling.

"Good. Trust me, Bon. This freaking pit won't claim us."

The thing was, it already had…

…

No sooner had they all been freed of their temporary restraints, did Casey Benedict Ormond, 24 years old and long time friend of Kol Mikaelson, charge forward, ready to fight. He knew he only had one chance. After all, his friends were all dead already and this group of strangers that Kol had introduced him to wouldn't care one bit about him. Casey had a ginormous target on his back and a larger arrow pointing at him from above, screaming "kill this guy first because we don't know him nor do we care about him."

He couldn't blame these kids of course. If the odds had been in his favor, if his friends had survived, he would do the same. That's just how life worked.

But since it wasn't how things had turned out, he needed to be fast. He needed to try and kill three of them before they could kill him, it was the only way. Did he feel bad about it? Hell yes. But it was a necessary means to grant him survival.

And he was a survivor. Dammit, he was going to be a freaking survivor! And then he would go in search of that asshole Beast who had gotten them all into this mess. Why had Kol thought it was a good idea to hang with someone who had once lived on the streets, earning money and a nasty nickname fighting less fortunate homeless people in gory illegal fights?

A charity project, of course. Kol had always liked to associate with the poor, the underprivileged, the ones that would elevate his status of black sheep of his family and would make his brothers and sister come looking for him...

Once Casey was starting to race forward for real, he banished those thoughts to the back of his head. If he got a chance, however, he would visit the Mikaelsons and tell them how careless Kol had been and how many lives had been lost because of it. (It was a bit unfair, but Casey had to blame someone and he didn't want to blame himself…)

The brown haired slender girl with the pretty blue dress stood closest to him. But also close to the tall guy with the Italian name. Casey didn't have much time to think. He'd take her out first, then the dude. He was injured already so an easier target, too. (Hopefully...) After that, he'd have to be extra fast to get one more of the others. He was thinking Rebekah, because "karma" and everything, but he'd go with whoever he could get to first.

Stooping down to pick up a long axe, he broke into a sprint, aiming for the brunette's head before he even got close.

The girl just stood there, staring, then closed her eyes. Casey almost stopped in his tracks. She saw what was coming her way, yet didn't make a move to protect herself? He kept racing forward, thinking this was going to be much easier than he thought when the Italian - or wasn't he yet another Brit? - turned around and tried to push the girl out of the way. But she fought the guy. She actually fought him, pulling away from him, yelling toward Casey, "Do it!"

...

Then he did. With a sickening sound, the axe connected with her face, so close to his own, to the other man's, that they both got spattered in her blood. The girl gave a horrible noise, then slumped down like a rag doll cut off her strings, barely caught by the other guy before she could hit the ground. Her willingness to die should have given Casey more pause, but there was no time to contemplate. He swallowed down bile, but knew he had to continue. He had to take out the Britalian, too, before the guy could get one up on him.

Swinging his axe hard, he managed to hit the other man, but when Casey looked he saw that his opponent had shielded himself with his arm. It didn't matter. Case hit him again, trying to get to the more vulnerable body parts but the guy was damn lithe and moving so freaking quickly that it really wasn't easy.

He got his arm another time, but this time, the force made his opponent fall down on his back, where he tried moving backwards away from Casey, pushing himself with his legs and good arm, but not fast enough.

Casey leaped forward, swinging again, fully prepared for his axe to—

…

Damon had been yelling from the moment that idiot kid had picked up a weapon - a freaking axe to boot. "Stop!" he screamed, "Duck! Get the hell away from him!"

That last part, he had used for both Vicky, then Casey. But Vicky hadn't listened for some reason, that crazy chick had probably already lost the last remnants of her sanity down here, and neither had Casey.

He, Bonnie and Rebekah had been shoved on one side of the pool, and the other three far away on the other side. Damon never had a chance to make it over there in time to save Vicky, but he was fast enough to stop Casey before that asshole could kill Enzo, too.

He simply couldn't let that happen. Enzo was like a brother to him, had stayed over so many times that it had almost felt like he lived with the Salvatore's, and then, when Enzo had turned 18 and the foster system had basically kicked him out to fend for himself, Guiseppe Salvatore had shown some unexpected kindness in one of his few decent moments and taken him in to live at the boarding house until he would get on his feet.

So, no. Damon was not ready to turn his back on his best friend, even if it would have heightened his own chances of survival, but he had come up with a plan, and he'd rather they all died trying to escape than anyone else of his friends dying down here.

The rod he had picked up connected with the back of Casey's head just as the guy swung down his axe to slice his victim in half. Startled, the guy dropped his weapon, mid-swing, Enzo barely being able to kick it out of harm's way.

"You alright?" Damon called over to his cursing friend, who slowly tried standing up, just as Casey started turning around to face Damon, clutching his head as he did. How he was even still standing was a miracle. The guy was pure muscle and adrenaline. When their gazes met, Damon's dark and angry, Casey's feral and dazed, it was time to make another move.

He didn't want to do this. Didn't want to kill someone else. But there were other people to protect down here and he had to try his best to get them out, so he did what he had to do.

He hit Casey again. And again. He continued hitting him when he was slumping over, curling into a ball on the ground, reflexively still trying to cover his body, protect himself, even though by then he must have known it was futile.

"No," he begged. "Please. I don't want to die!"

And I don't want to kill, thought Damon. I don't want to kill. But that didn't mean it didn't have to happen.

...

"Damon. Damon!"

He whirled around, almost hitting Enzo with the rod, stopping a mere inch from his face. His friend flinched wildly, then shook his head, but didn't say anything other than a very quiet "Thanks."

With a nod and a grimace, Damon lowered his weapon until its tip made a clanking noise against the ground. Staring at the blood on it rather than at the lifeless heap in front of him (two heaps, really. Vicky wasn't too far away…), he clenched his teeth, trying to control his breathing.

Bonnie and Rebekah would have seen all of it… He couldn't turn around to look at them.

"Damon."

With a sigh, he slowly lifted his head, strands of sweaty hair flying into his face as he looked at Enzo. They didn't say anything, but there was something in the way Enzo touched his shoulder now that felt somewhat soothing. Like while he didn't know who he was anymore, what had happened to Damon Salvatore of old, someone else did. He saw it all in Enzo's eyes, and more. His own despair, and disgust, but also the necessity, compassion.

…

Damon shook his head, trying to think. He needed to snap out of it, and fast, if he wanted to get their plan under way.

Pulling Enzo closer, he whispered, "The tasers, you think they'll come down here again to use them once this is over?" He felt Enzo tense under his touch and wanted to assure him. "Relax, I'm not planning on killing you. Well, not for real anyways, but…" He closed his eyes, gripping Enzo's arm hard. "You think we could make it look like you were bleeding somewhere else? Like you were bleeding out?"

He felt Enzo give a small jerk of the head, heard the smallest tone of agreement before they started moving as if in an intimate tango, a dance of death. "I told the girls to grab something to fight with, for when these assholes come to get us," Damon explained his desperate plan. "We'll try and hold their people hostage, make them let us out of here. If we have to, we will use them as shields or kill them. Because there will be no going back if we do it this way. You understand? We either make it out of here or we will die."

"How did you—"

"Come up with this shit in such a short time?" Damon gave a small snort, grinning a bit like a lunatic. "Brains, my man." He tapped the side of his head. "I have always been the smart one…"

Enzo rolled his eyes. "It's called being delusional…"

Damon stifled a chuckle. Even down here, they didn't quite let go of their usual banter, and it felt good. Like maybe not all was lost. Maybe there was a coming back out of this for them. Just maybe.

If his haphazardly put together plan actually worked. (He had come up with it when they had seen Vicky die so violently. It had hit him out of nowhere, like a gory epiphany.) And if luck was finally going to be on their side for once. Because they would need it.

Focusing his attention on the task at hand, Damon left a little more wiggle room for Enzo to get his injured arm between them. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he stared him directly in the eyes. "I'm afraid this will probably hurt, but since I'm gonna pretend to stab you, and you'll have to act the part, feel free to just scream bloody murder."

"Sounds so reassuring. Thanks."

"Anything for a friend."

He didn't wait. Didn't let Enzo think about it for too long. They needed to pretend one of them had died, and since fate - or Casey - had involuntarily laid the groundwork for them, they might as well work with it.

Digging his fingers into Enzo's arm, he tried to get as much blood over his hand as possible, then wiped it off on Enzo's shirt.

"Bloody hell," Enzo hissed, his head falling forward against Damon, who grimaced on his friend's behalf.

"I'm sorry, man, just a few more times. Don't pass out on me, okay? You'll have to pretend to die. But I need you alert! You'll need to help me get those assholes."

"Just hurry."

He didn't have much time or room to see whether the shirt was stained well enough to fool anyone, but he had to chance it. "Now," he whispered to an erratically breathing Enzo, hoping the kid would get that under control so he would be a convincing dead person. With a quick movement, he pretended to stab his friend, then gave him a slight shove.

Enzo fell to the ground a little too convincingly. Damon felt his heart in his throat and in his chest, beating too wildly. Don't be unconscious, he silently pleaded, then raised his arms, the sign for Bonnie and Rebekah to yell and pretend to be in shock, and to prepare themselves for the tasers.

Now he only had to hope they'd really come…

…

There was a loud eruption of applause and whoops coming from above. Lights that went crazy, a weird gong-like chime.

Bonnie blinked. Swallowing, she tried to keep her bearings. She had still stared at Vicky in shock when Damon had suddenly pulled her and Rebekah close, telling them his crazy idea.

"Let me try and convince these guys to play dead," he had said. "I'll run over and make it look like I killed them—"

"How?" Rebekah had scoffed, disbelievingly. "And why didn't you come up with your fancy plan before Vicky had to die?"

Bonnie had seen the flicker of sorrow and sadness in his eyes. Then he had shaken his head.

Bonnie had turned to look at the other girl. "It's not his fault she's dead," she had told her, firmly, with a challenging glare that had made Rebekah nod. "I know…"

"We don't have much time." They had all been looking over to where Casey had suddenly started trying to go after Enzo.

"Shit," it had escaped Damon. "Listen. Change of plans. I'm not sure I can convince that guy to do anything. But you need to be prepared. We need to be ready. When they come and get us, we need to hold them hostage. I don't think for a second that they will let any of us go. Besides, I'm trying to not lose anyone else. You understand?"

He had stared at them both intently, and Bonnie had found herself nodding, bracing herself. She had been ready to fight back. Finally.

Because she had to be.

"Damon!" She had pointed over to where Enzo had seemed to have some serious trouble. If they really wanted to keep everyone alive, they'd have to deal with Casey first. "On it. As soon as it's over, wait and be ready!"

Then he had run away and Bonnie had been left to wait once more, feeling Rebekah in her short skirt and thin halter top shiver beside her.

"We're going to get out of this," she had tried to reassure the girl, and had gotten an unconvinced "Ya" as response.

She couldn't blame her. They had both lost someone very close to them.

But now the "game" was over, Damon standing over Enzo like he had killed him (had he?!), waiting for the goons to come and lead them out, or try to kill them. Whichever one it was, it made adrenaline course through Bonnie like crazy, her nostrils flaring with anxiety and anticipation.

They needed to get out. Despite everything that had happened, she didn't want to die. She didn't. She couldn't. And yet, how would she be able to live with this?! Could she?

Rebekah suddenly lightly touched her arm. "They're coming," she breathed, nodding her head briefly in the direction of the small and way too short pool ladder. Ropes had been thrown over the side, and three of their captors were getting ready to rush down them, tasers at the ready.

Bonnie was a little shocked to realize how much slower it actually seemed to be happening. The first time she had been so shocked and out of it, so torn over Jeremy (don't think about it, don't think about it, don't…), that she hadn't paid any attention to the men with their tasers. It had seemed as if the world had just grown dark from one second to the next as the tasers shot electricity through her body.

This time, however, she watched as they quickly slid down and hopped onto the ground, then ran over to where they stood, she and Rebekah on one side, Damon and Enzo (if he was still alive) on the other. Her hand clenched around the long bread knife she had picked up, she bumped into Rebekah ever so slightly, the Mikaelson girl returning the gesture. As if to reassure each other that they were at least not alone, that this was truly happening.

"You think we can take them on?" There was doubt in Rebekah's tone, doubt that Bonnie felt, too, but didn't let seep through when she replied, "Ya. We have to."

Inhaling deeply, she readied herself as best as she could. Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone approach Damon, while another few people were trying to gather up the dead.

Then she saw the guys that were coming for her and Rebekah. The good thing was that they were nowhere near as large and muscular as you would think for someone doing that kind of job. It was probably because they underestimated their targets, thought of them as just some harmless girls.

A wild grin appeared on Bonnie's face as she suddenly ran forward, followed by Rebekah. Their move surprised the two men so much that they never got a chance to properly aim their tasers. They hadn't seen the attack coming at all.

"What the hell," one of them hissed out, before Rebekah poked him in the throat with a large metal file she had found.

"Shhh," she made, grinning at him ferally, her white teeth gleaming dangerously in the cold light coming from above.

"Fuck!" someone was yelling, Bonnie wasn't sure from where, up above or from where Damon was, but she had to concentrate on the guy she was trying to keep from struggling free. The guy, muscular, but very lean, and not very big at all, was putting up a fight, but she wasn't letting him win. Not this time.

"Hold still or I will kill you. You should know that I mean it," she told him with a voice so calm she almost creeped herself out. It certainly had an effect on her "hostage." The man didn't so much as move a muscle when she pressed the knife so hard against his throat that she drew blood.

It was so easy. So awfully, horribly easy. The way Jeremy had died… It should have been more difficult, more physically straining, more…

"BonBon. You got it under control over there?"

Damon's voice jolted her back before she could spiral too far down. Panting, she looked up and nodded. He was holding a rod across his own hostage's throat, making the guy walk over to them slowly. The man was struggling to breathe, Damon's grip on the rod unrelenting, and the pressure he put on his opponent's jugular quite obviously rather oppressing. The guy's lips were slightly blue.

Not far from Damon, Enzo was escorting two more goons over to them, holding them at gun point. Gun point… Bonnie audibly gasped, exchanging a glance with Rebekah. They had managed to get their hands on an actual freaking gun.

Soon, their friends had reached them, Damon giving Bonnie a quick peck on the cheek. "Ladies," he said, trying to smirk but not quite getting it right, and when Bonnie saw the streaks of blood on his face and hands, she knew why. Looking furtively over her shoulder, she saw one of the taser guys lying pretty dead looking close to the other two bodies (Vicky, she scolded herself. Vicky and Casey. They were not just bodies. They were people…). She hadn't seen what had happened, and how, but it was easy to put two and two together and assume that Damon had done most of the work there. A quick glance over to where Enzo was awkwardly pressing one arm against his torso while with the other keeping the two captives in check, and she knew that he wouldn't have been able to put up much of a fight. Damon, on the other hand, was in better shape. At least physically.

"What now?" Rebekah asked what Bonnie hadn't even dared think about just yet. But the girl was right. What should they do now?

Staring up into the bright lights, they noticed that it had grown eerily quiet up there. Like the room was waiting with baited breath. She looked around, spotting the surfer around the same time Damon did.

"We have something of yours!" He yelled up, shoving the man he was holding into a glaring beam of light.

"You'll let us walk out of here now. With these guys. Once we're far enough away, we will let them go. Not before."

What he didn't say, of course, was what everyone knew. That, if they didn't, none of the people in the pit would make it out alive, Damon, Bonnie, Rebekah and Enzo included.

Did she care?

She did. Still. She wanted to live so freaking bad it was breathtaking.

Watching Damon, how his shoulders squared as he kept staring up, how confident he seemed, and at the same time, how broken, she realized the toll this was taking on them all would be hard for others to understand. She could see the cracks in his exterior, showing something dark underneath, but it didn't scare her. It almost gave her comfort. Because she shared that darkness with him. Briefly, their gazes met, Damon nodding to her, then the quietness above got disrupted by some feedback noise and then…

"Be. My. Guests," Sykes enunciated each word, underscoring them by gesturing with his arms toward the ropes and ladder. "If you can make it up there and out, you're free to go. Pinky promise!"

He turned to face the crowd, earning a few chuckles here and there, but the people seemed a little less enthusiastic and a little more uncertain. Bonnie considered that a good sign. Sykes was putting on a show, but he, too, must have been slightly unsure of how to handle this new situation. Good.

"Too kind," Damon muttered, then shoved his human shield forward some more. Toward the ropes. They could only hope these people wouldn't shoot at them from up there or something, at this point Bonnie couldn't be sure of anything anymore. But she knew they had to risk it. It was their only chance.

Inhaling shakily, Bonnie followed Damon. He gave her a good feeling despite everything. Having him around, it made it all a little more bearable, made her believe they did have that chance.

She'd have never thought she'd be so grateful for Damon Salvatore's company.

…

Rebekah wasn't sure she was going to make it after all. The ropes were long and she wasn't the greatest of climbers. At least not in a short skirt and with high heels. And not up a rope. Kol's face appeared in front of her again, unbidden and painful, and she closed her eyes to focus on other things. On getting out. Easier said than done. As she hung off the rope, one guard above her, the other forced to hold her rope by Enzo, Damon was cajoling her from above, pulling up the guard first then waiting for her.

While Damon was keeping the hostages in check with the gun Lorenzo had passed him before, while Bonnie and he were still waiting their turn, Rebekah couldn't help but go back to the moment her brother had taken her hands and guided them. To stab him. The same hands that were now clinging to a rope, still tinged reddish from her brother's blood.

...

"I'm so sorry, Bekah," he had breathed when she had realized what he had done, her face contorting in agony and betrayal, but also love. "I never wanted for any of this to happen," he had continued, "For you to become part of this bloody mess."

"I know… Kol…" She hadn't known what to say, other than, "I love you, brother. You stupid stupid idiot."

"Had to protect you somehow, right? Or Nik and Elijah would have never let me live it down." He had chuckled, then coughed, their fingers still entwined around the blade of the knife that had been killing him. "Love you, Bekah. Always..."

...

He was dead, had died to protect her. She owed it to him that she made it out okay. Stealing herself, she hoisted herself up more, inch by inch, until she could finally grasp for Damon's extended hand, where he stood waiting, only protected by the gun he was holding, two captured guards already tied to the barbed wire rows behind him. Pulling her up, he grinned at her.

"Welcome topside, blondie!"

She would have rolled her eyes under normal circumstances. Instead, she hugged him fiercely, only letting go when he gently pushed her away a little. "I need to get the others up, too, okay?"

She nodded, appreciating his soft unaccusing tone. As she let go of his hand, she was relieved to have finally left the pool behind, although seeing the rows of barbed wire and the people still peering down from the balcony sobered her quickly. They were far from being free of this place.

Next, they brought the last three guards up, tying each of them to the fence with fabric Bonnie had torn off the lower portion of her gorgeous moss green dress. Such a shame, Rebekah briefly thought, although a torn dress was the least of any of their problems. Bonnie clearly didn't seem to mind or pay it a second thought.

As Rebekah watched her slowly make her way up the rope at the same time as Lorenzo, she noticed the other girl sliding down a good chunk, barely stifling a yell, making Damon grimace. "You okay, Bon?"

She wasn't looking up to him, just clinging to her rope, which was swinging too much. Rebekah felt her fingers clench into fists as she helplessly watched as Lorenzo tried to calm the poor girl. He couldn't do anything for her, however, seeing as he was too far away, and already slightly incapacitated.

"Hold this." Damon suddenly shoved the gun into Rebekah's hand, startling her, making her flinch when she realized what she was holding. Her heart rate picked up dangerously. She didn't want anyone else to force a weapon into her hands ever again, but yet again she didn't have a choice.

"Keep 'em around, blondie," he told her, indicating the guards behind her, "We'll need them." Then, rushing over to the rope, he called out to the struggling girl. "Bonnie. Bon! Look at me! You can do this!"

Laying down flat on his stomach, he gripped her rope, hard, trying to stabilize it as best as he could, trying to hold out a hand for her at the same time. Rebekah couldn't see too well from where she stood, training the gun at their hostages, and she probably didn't want to know what was happening anyway.

If Bonnie fell… She was already so high up… Rebekah focused hard on the staring glaring men before her. Raising her chin, she looked at them challengingly, remaining quiet, listening.

As if she wasn't part of it all. As if she was somewhere very far away...

"Come on, Bon. Just a little more. You're almost there… - Enzo, you got this, man? I can't get both of you—"

"I'm good."

"I can't—" Bonnie looked ready to give up.

"Yes you can, pretty girl!" Damon cajoled, breathing heavily. "Come on! The world needs Bonnie Bennett up here. . . Just a little more. . .Yeah, like that."

"Damon—"

"You got this, gorgeous!"

A thudding noise. Panting. Another loud noise, then a sudden pat on Rebekah's shoulder made her turn around. She was looking straight into the eyes of Damon, then Bonnie, who was standing tucked under his arm, shaking like a leaf. Rebekah had to smile. It had worked. Hugging them both, her gaze fell on Enzo, who was standing behind them, half doubled over, grimacing. The four of them had made it up. Out of the pit. They were really out of there.

But then her features froze into another frown. "What now, Damon?" she asked, the lump back in her throat.

He raised his eyebrows at her, sniffing. "Now we'll get the hell out of here."

Words were always so much easier than deeds…