A day had passed since Nixkamich's rescue and Stefan's true allegiance had been discovered. In some people morale had hit an all time low, in others the stress of the situation had driven them to ever increasing feats of mischief. Tyler was absent from the gathering in the living room; he was pacing in one of the lower rooms of the house while Elijah sat with him and Nixkamich clawed at the floor and tried to hold back screams.
According to Aaron's report Nixkamich had spat out the blood Klaus had forced into his mouth. Nixkamich knew what would happen if he had drank any of the Original's tainted life force, but it hadn't worked. During the ensuing 'battle', where Aaron had thrown the vervain grenade into the hybrid congregation, Klaus had snapped his neck. Now he was going through the de-siring process under Tyler's guidance.
Charlotte is going to kill me, was all Elijah could think. Well not really kill him; for one thing he was already dead, and they had the only white oak stake left in existence. No, but Nixkamich was like a father to the albino teenager, much like he was to Philip and Duncan. And it was for this reason, as self-punishment, that he forced himself to watch what his plan had brought upon in consequence. After all, why should Nixkamich, Charlotte and Tyler be the only ones to suffer for his actions? They shouldn't. And neither should the other occupants of the house be tormented by the screams, which was why the scent of burning sage drifted through the room.
"Keep turning!" Tyler urged, fists clenched. "You need to turn until the pain goes away. Only then can you be free of the sire bond!"
There was another crunch and a howl as one of the werewolf's bones snapped. Nix looked more wolf-like than human, with half-formed claws and a tail breaking out from his spine, sharp eyes and long teeth. Each transformation was becoming faster and less painful.
He'd been a werewolf for many years in Khimki, turning at will as a result of Órfhlaith's Influence over the forest. The pain of transformation had long since stopped but becoming a vampire increased emotion as well as pain, and that, in effect, restarted the whole chain.
Elijah frowned when, a few transformations later, the werewolf slumped against the walls. Tyler tried to press him onwards, but he seemed not to hear him. Knowing what he needed, he rose from the chair with a jug of water in his hand and held it out to the Native American. Nixkamich practically snatched it from his hand and threw his head back, swallowing the entire contents.
"Th- thanks."
"Alright, have a five minute break," said Tyler, taking the jug away. "I'll refill this."
As the hybrid passed, he shot an angered look at the Original. Elijah only saw it for a moment before he averted his eyes and turned back to sit on the chair. Nixkamich was quiet, not needing to breathe because of his new vampirism, otherwise he would have been gasping for it.
"Does Charlie know?" Nix asked, lifting his head slightly and his eyes even more. He looked even more ragged and defeated than ever. "Have … have you told her?"
"She would have found out either way," Elijah replied. "I called her after you woke up the first day."
Nix sighed and let his head fall again. There was a sound that could have been a hiss, or could have been a breathless curse that went unfinished. He shakily dragged his legs up to his chest and buried both hands into his hair. "Shoulda seen it coming," he mumbled to himself. "Shoulda run before the bastard caught me."
"It's not your fault," said the vampire quietly. "Perhaps I should have sent someone else with you. A vampire would have been able to help you run, but outside of Khimki, you couldn't exactly do-"
"No, no, I could have got away just fine on my own," Nix assured him. "I just didn't move fast enough. I knew he would probably try turn me, that's why I spat out the blood. Some must've slipped down my throat and I just didn't notice or somethin'. Hell, I don't know. Shit happens."
Shit happens. Yes, that was an accurate summary of pretty much life in general. It happened all of the time. Elijah had found it happened quite a lot in the thousand years he'd lived; they'd all had their fair share, some more than others.
Nixkamich suddenly started to shiver, and for a moment Elijah thought he was crying. The Original leaned forward, one hand on his knee, and paused when he saw the corners of his friend's lips twitching uncontrollably into a smile. Just as Tyler re-entered the room, he burst out into a fit of drunken giggles and didn't stop for a good minute or two. Something was amusing him, but they had no idea what.
"Okay, let's get started again," said Tyler, kneeling down a few feet in front of his fellow hybrid. "Ready?"
Nixkamich startled them both when, fangs bared and head falling back against the wall, he drawled in a state of odd euphoria, "fuck yeah..."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ x ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Just three days," Caroline said thoughtfully as she, Duncan, and Philip made brownies in the kitchen. Well actually Duncan and Philip were pelting each other with chocolate chips while she did most of the work. "Three more days until all of this is over."
Duncan smacked at his adoptive brother's head repeatedly as he tried to push some chocolate into his face. His recovery from the seizure had been swift, which made Caroline wonder if someone had used vampire blood to accelerate the healing process. The warlock, who looked younger but was actually older than she was, roughly grabbed a handful out of the bowl and sprayed them across the worktop.
Unable to stop herself from grinning as she was showered in delicious candy, she turned around and pointed the wooden spoon at them both, one hand on her hip. "Now you two better stop that right now before I come over there and make you regret it." Their amused expressions told her that her half-hearted threat hadn't really worked. At all. Actually the mischievous glint in Duncan's eye forewarned her that it was just encouraging their behaviour. "I thought you wanted to help me make brownies. This does not look like you two making brownies."
"We're making brownies?" Philip took on an expression of mock surprise. "Oh, our mistake! We thought you wanted our help making a mess. Duncan," he turned towards his fellow Irishman, whose brow was raised, "shall we help our lovely friend make brownies?"
Duncan's response was a grin.
Caroline's lips wrinkled in her effort not to smile. She approached them with the spoon and gave them both a stern look. "No messing around. Act your ages."
Fifteen minutes later Kol, Rebekah and Elena entered the room to find Caroline tied up on the worktop, Philip lying deathly still on his stomach and Duncan rocking back and forth. When they tried to ask him what had happened, he tried to chase them out of the kitchen with the wooden spoon, shouting in an imitation of an elderly man's voice, "you kids get off my lawn!"
"I told them to act their ages," Caroline said as the two continued their charades; Philip, a hundred and nine years old, lying 'dead' with a flower on his back, and Duncan, seventy three years old, playing on a 'stereotypical old man'.
"Maybe you should act your age too," Philip said brightly, lifting his head to beam at Kol.
"Dead," Duncan said simply.
Philip's head promptly fell back onto the counter with a bang.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ x ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Elijah watched with a reservedly proud smile as Philip peeled the wrapping paper away from his birthday presents.
From Rebekah and Kol he had got money to spend on whatever he wanted. Duncan had gone out and bought him a huge stash of jawbreakers, some of which he had hidden around the house in various places. Aaron had agreed to take him out to an arcade and buy him enough tokens and ice cream to make his pockets burst, and Wes had dropped in with Riki on their break and agreed to let him have a bit of time on the Batmobile—with Duncan if he so wished. Elena had got him a small friendship bracelet with some fish on it and Damon had reluctantly pitched in with a bit of his own birthday cheer. By getting him some alcohol, because he needed more drinking buddies.
Now he was opening Elijah's present, the little wood carving of the dolphin leaping out of the water. Elijah just stood with his hands in his pockets as the younger vampire studied it, touching along each intricate detail, bending the tips of his fingers into each crevice. The water it leapt out of was actually in the shape of a wedge-tailed eagle, himself, which was a subtle expression of his feelings towards his adoptive son. It flew upside-down, wings forming the main part of the spray, and head curled forward, beak like a hook.
Elijah hadn't actually got much experience in painting. He was the carpenter, better at using his calloused hands for chipping away at wood, so he'd had to ask December Grace, the head lifeguard at the nearby tower, to paint it for him. She had a degree in art and had a hobby in it as well, and had been happy to oblige if it meant getting her brushes out.
Philip tilted the carving in the light and smiled happily. "This is awesome," he said, scampering over to Elijah and jumping up into a hug. "Thanks, Uncle Eli!"
Elijah smiled weakly and ruffled the boy's hair.
A few hours later and the Original was walking into his room, laughter ringing in his ears, sighing with annoyed exasperation. Elena followed him to the door of his room while party music sang loudly out of the stereos and everyone else danced the night away. The doppelgänger was giggling at his expense and she wasn't even trying to hide it. Elijah was just plain annoyed.
"This was my favourite shirt," he huffed, trying to peel off the chocolate-covered clothing without getting any on his hands, floor or shoes. It was dripping down his body like maple syrup, slowly but surely, and he was sure there was some on his face as well. "This is why I don't get him chocolate sauce."
"Come on, Kol didn't know what would happen," Elena said, and snorted when the urge to laugh became too great. "...Even if it was his fault."
Was his fault? She had no idea. It was a purpose act to disobey him. There was a reason that Kol's name rhymed with Troll, and it wasn't because of his enchanting good looks. Rather than listen to his warning not to buy it he had gone out and got a whole tray of the stuff, and now Damon was probably stuck to the walls with Riki and a drunken Tyler in wolf form trying to lick him clean. I brought it on myself though. Had I not said anything in the first place, he wouldn't have gone out and got it.
Elijah rolled the shirt up and flung it at the doppelgänger. "Do you know how hard it is to get this stuff out of silk?" Elena caught the shirt, but since the sauce was on the inside, she remained perfectly clean. After all he was nothing if not a gentleman. "Next year I might as well just come dressed in white, handfuls of it with a sign plastered to my forehead saying 'Paint me like one of your French girls'. I'm sure they'd get the message."
Elena burst out laughing at that and threw his shirt aside onto the floor. The song downstairs changed; now they were dancing to Gangnam Style, and from the slow-coming echoing drumroll that even she could hear amongst the pounding techno, everyone was joining in. She actually wished they were down there now, not just because she wanted to dance with them, but because she would have loved to see Elijah performing the steps.
"Come on, we're missing the party!" Elena remained leaning against the doorway as Elijah went about getting some older clothes from his cabinet. Months before she would have assumed his cabinets consisted of suits, but in fact only a small fraction of them made up his clothes. It was almost like he was on vacation. Would he revert back to suits for the war?
Elijah just did his trademark brow quirk and tipping of the head. Elena blushed and turned, knowing that he wasn't about to get changed while she was watching.
In fact he'd have preferred it if she'd been downstairs with the rest of them, but whatever. Something about the whole situation made him not care that she was around with him. She seemed very comfortable around him, almost acting the same way with him as she did with Damon and Caroline. There were a few boundaries she still didn't cross but it didn't matter. She was getting more confident, and he admired her growing bravery.
Seconds later he was changed, just threading the last button in his shirt. But he sat on the edge of his bed just gazing at her back, wondering how a mere human could be so … strong. She'd seen a lot of things that would make other people crack several times over but she seemed to take it all in stride, if not with a bit of difficulty at times, but who wouldn't find things difficult? This entire situation was one huge mess up. They were walking into war and perhaps death.
"You don't seem worried," he observed after a moment. Elena got the sense he had finished dressing, but she still didn't turn around. She caught onto what he was talking about, though. It had been the focus of idle conversation every now and again for weeks.
Smiling, she brushed a strand of straight oaken hair behind her ear and said, "what's there to be worried about? We're going to kick his butt and save the world from an otherwise horrible fate. Right?"
Elijah thought about this for a moment, and then stood. "While I admire your confidence, it might not turn out that way."
Elena cut him off. "Over the time I've spent with you, Damon and everyone else, I've learned that being afraid of what might come could just slow you down. We've got Originals, hybrids, witches and warlocks, vampires and werewolves on our side, and an indestructible white oak stake. Klaus may be powerful but I don't know how he can take us all on. As long as we have the stake, there's no way he can take us down."
"Klaus has often pulled out tricks from even the darkest sides of magic. He has no qualms about trickery, rape or murder to get what he wants." Gazing at the ancient sword, Elijah found himself drawn to it, and rested a hand on the handle, a frown set upon his lips.
Elena bristled. Mention of his callousness made her turn. "Has Klaus ever raped someone?" Elijah didn't respond. "Elijah."
He didn't see how it would change anything, except serve to make her hate him more. Elijah lifted his hand from the blade and gazed at the doppelgänger soberly. "The things he has done in his lifetime have been beyond monstrous." He said carefully. "Rape is just another form of torture, be it of the body or the mind."
Compelling women to sleep with him had been something of a power statement amongst vampires in some of the earlier days, a dark trend which he had started. Even Kol and Rebekah, at the time wanting to show their strength, had partaken. Perhaps Kol still did it, he had no idea. It seemed like something he would do. He and Finn had never thought twice about it though, and had flat out refused to do it. As for mental rape, that was something along the lines of what Elena had experienced from Stefan. Taking things from them, making them forget, or forcing them into acting in the way he so desired. He could tear their minds apart piece by piece, leave them broken and begging for death.
Elena was shocked into silence. Her heartbeat was racing in her chest, eyes wide and locked onto Elijah, whose eyes burned with hatred. "This is why you're seen as evil." He didn't respond to her, just gazed past her as if at something she could not see. "This is why nobody trusts vampires. Witches, werewolves … Bonnie and Tyler get along but Bonnie always suspected Stefan of something, no matter how close they got."
"Esther created vampires by tapping into the darkest place possible and unleashed a plague upon the earth, and started a war with the witches. Mikael forged a dark reputation and started the war with the wolves." Elijah chuckled bitterly, poured a cup of whiskey from the jar he kept by his bedside table and offered her one. "Funny how one person can change the world, isn't it?"
However, as Elijah toasted and lifted the glass to his lips, his auburn eyes sharpened and he backed away. Elena stiffened, whirled around, but saw nothing.
He erupted into a violent coughing fit that brought him to his knees. Elena caught him by the arm, dropping the glass which shattered on the floor. Blood sprayed from his mouth like a waterfall, splashing over his hands and her clothes. Darker specks of clotted blood landed on the floor and he started choking.
"Oh god. Elijah? Elijah, what's wrong?"
Duncan, Philip and Damon came scampering up the stairs, all of them covered in confetti and shoving each other. Their eyes locked onto the scene and their joy vanished instantly and turned to shock. They ran through the hall and into the room, and Philip threw the door shut and locked it behind them.
"What's going on?" Damon asked, wide-eyed.
"Explain it later!" Philip shot across the room to the draws and opened the very bottom one, pulling out a cloth and some strange smelling liquid that he dowsed the fabric in. "Sit him up!"
Elena and Damon grabbed one shoulder each and crouched behind the Original. Elijah convulsed and spat out another mouthful of crimson as Duncan began to chant, his fingers spread and dreadlocks swaying in a breeze summoned by the power of the warlocks.
"Asinta Mulaf Hinto. Phasmatos Regux Redismo Sus Terra. Asinta Mulaf Hinto. Phasmatos Regux Redismo Sus Terra."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ x ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Through the apprehensive silence, the grandfather clock ticked on in the bedroom.
Elijah was awake but slightly dazed, gazing out of the window while Aaron checked him over one last time. Philip hadn't let go of his arm, and Damon was trying to make sense of the whole situation. Duncan had fallen asleep on the edge of the bed, his head in Elena's lap and face buried into the crook of his elbow.
The doppelgänger absently stroked the warlock's braided hair as she waited for Aaron to finish. He padded across the room, picked up a glass of whiskey from the side and slit one of his wrists, pressing the wound against the glass. Blood trickled into the alcohol and turned it a shade of dawn orange.
"Drink this," Aaron ordered, pressing the glass into his brother's hand. Elijah blinked for clarity and then began to sip at the blood-whiskey.
Damon tried to sound uncaring. "Did someone spike the booze?"
"If they did, they didn't do it right." Elena rolled her eyes and trailed one of Duncan's braids. Inwardly she was irked at the dark humour because her mind was circulating around the events of the past hour, particularly the part about Klaus. She had expected terrible things of him, but she had never, ever thought that he would be capable of … of that. She couldn't get it out of her mind. How many lives has he ruined? She glanced sidewards at Damon. Has he ever done such a thing?
Damon was respectful and charming when he wanted to be, but even he had his moments. Elena knew he had feelings for her, but how far would he be willing to go to imagine the perfect life between them? The thought made her sick.
The dark-haired Salvatore gave her a devious smile and sat down beside her. "Okay, it was a tasteless joke, I'm sorry."
"No you're not."
Damon deadpanned, squinted at her and shrugged. "Alright, I'm not." He sighed and fell back on the bed. "But you, Elena, need to stop being so depressed. Live a little!" There was a pause, and he sat up again, turning his attention to Aaron. "Really, though, did someone spike the drink with vervain?"
They'd all seen the effects of vervain on a vampire before. There was a sizzle of burning skin, like acid melting away flesh, and blood … but she hadn't seen him take a sip of the drink.
"No, the drink is clean." As if to make a point, Philip leaned across the bed, picked up the jug and took a gulp of the contents. They peered across, waiting for a reaction, but it never came. Damon took a sample as well, part to test it and another part because he wanted a drink. "This is something else."
Damon's lip curled at the strength of the drink. "It sure is," he croaked weakly, coughing. "God, you can swallow that?"
Philip smiled. "Just because I look like a kid-"
"-and act like one-"
"-and act like one," he conceded, "doesn't mean I am one. I do drink. So does Duncan, but not as much."
Alcohol that could make Damon gag at just a sip must've been stronger than acid, Elena thought. But then again he was a vampire. She'd taken a swig of it and been alright.
"You want me to tell them?" Elena glanced up. Aaron was speaking quietly with Elijah, who responded with a slight nod. "You're right. They'd have found out either way."
"Found out what?" Elena asked confusedly.
Aaron smiled and lowered the Original down onto the bed. "Get some rest, little brother. I'll take over for now."
Elena's eyes widened and so did Damon's. Putting the whiskey back onto the night stand, he stood up and gave up some space. "You two are brothers?"
Aaron blinked in surprise like he were asking himself something, and then smiled cordially and extended his hand in a second greeting. "Aaron Mikaelson, oldest Original vampire," he drawled, adding more slowly, "at your service." In the silence that followed he laughed. "Mind blown."
"Charmed," Damon sneered, slapping their hands together and shaking it. "Well this is a surprise. The last I heard about you, you were dead."
Aaron gave a toothy grin, motioning to Elena and Duncan. "You heard right. We're all dead, my friend, except perhaps those two. So, you want to know what happened to Elijah. I'll tell you." He finished the rest of his drink in one sip and set the glass on the table. "You guys heard of the second hybrid, I suppose."
Damon scoffed. "'Course we have. The guy's meant to be kicking Klaus's ass. This got somethin' to do with him? ...or her."
Click. That was the sound of the answer falling into place in Elena's mind. She would have stood up had Duncan not been sprawled out over the front of her legs. Glancing at him, she rested her hand on his back and rubbed a rhythmic, soothing circle there. "That's impossible," she breathed. "You can't be serious."
Aaron's blond hair glowed as he passed the window. "Someone's got a sharp mind."
"What?" Damon barked, slightly drunk and indignant. "What?"
Elena turned and stared at the Salvatore. "The second hybrid, a vampire and witch," she said urgently. "In the images we found in the caves there were three vampires stood in front of an army on the right side of the wall with another in front of them. Remember? And Klaus was on the left with his army of hybrids." Damon nodded slowly, bringing forth the image in his mind. "Bonnie and I thought that it had to be Elijah, Rebekah and Kol, but Aaron is an Original too."
Damon's gaze darkened. "There are only three Originals in the painting though," he recalled. "Aaron's not one of them. Or..." he looked slowly to Elijah, whose blood painted the room red. "He is, and someone's missing."
Elena nodded, and searched Aaron's gaze. It remained steadily neutral. He gave nothing away. Then something else occurred to the doppelgänger and she twisted to look at the sword, which still stood in the corner of the room.
...And he hadn't. He shut the door and sat back down on his chair, working on sculpting something out of the wood he had there. Judging by the fact that he'd just allowed her to remain in the room, she took it as a sign that she wasn't being kicked out, but she was balancing on the line between safety and bloodshed. Rather than speak, though, she just settled down beside him and watched him work. It paid off. After a few long minutes, he finally spoke.
"That sword used to belong to me, back when I was human." Elijah muttered, distracting his hands with the wood. "My father used it to … turn me. That's where the scar came from, and that's why I don't want it here."
"That sword has a link to the last lunar eclipse and that's why we needed to find it."
Mikael sat with his head in his hands, praying that he would just wake up. In the others they'd been 'dead' for a scant few hours, but Elijah had lain there all night. The sun was cresting the horizon and he was as pale as death, his heart stilled and expression pained. Shivers ran down the length of his body. He didn't understand. It had worked the other times, hadn't it? So what had gone wrong?
"The fight takes place on the same lunar eclipse that the Original vampires were turned on," she explained. "The same night they were killed."
Clouds blocked out the sun and behind Mikael, Elijah stirred. Power crackled like lightning in the atmosphere and the wind began to rise and fade as if breathing, but the lungs of the man drew no air. Auburn eyes glowed and he began to rise as leaves around him swirled in a loose, invisible whirlwind. Mikael looked up.
Fear made him take a step back. Elijah's lips parted slightly, and through him spoke the voices of a thousand enraged spirits. They chanted words of an ancient, powerful language. Witches, warlocks neither voice standing out but like thunder beside his ears, falling into his palms. The witches were forging something out of darkness, they were seizing his son and using him as a catalyst. There was a scream and Esther crashed from the trees, bloodied and beaten.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," whispered the wind from everywhere and nowhere. Mikael looked around, but couldn't pinpoint the source of the voice. "An eye for an eye, a life … for a life."
"The spirits – they're angry," Esther gasped.
"Beyond angry," said a voice. Ayana stepped out, put herself between the divided family. Her eyes burned. "The magic you used was called Expression. It is the darkest, most evil form you can use. What have you done, Esther? You were warned."
"I thought that you were the second hybrid," Elena went on, looking to Aaron, who had started to smile slightly. "But you're not."
"I wanted to keep my children safe," Esther said shakily. "I wanted to-"
"Just because you have the power to act does not mean you should do it! In selfishly trying to immortalise your own children, you have torn apart another—what right do you think you have?"
"In creating the Original vampires, Esther sacrificed the life of a woman called Tatia." Elena's gaze fell upon Elijah's cabinet, the one which held the wood carvings, searching for one in particular.
"The original doppelgänger," Damon said.
"Yes." Aaron's gaze pierced Elena as he spoke. "Vampires were meant to just require blood to complete the transition, and then they'd just be free. However, Tatia's blood was immensely pure, not meant to be used in such dark spells. The addictiveness of it is why vampires cannot survive without it today."
"What do you mean her blood was pure?" Damon snorted incredulously. "You mean she was a virgin?"
And there it was. Elena's dark eyes landed upon the beautiful seven hundred year old carving on the top shelf, the one that looked so much like her. "No, she wasn't a virgin, otherwise I wouldn't be here." Pure blood, addictiveness, doppelgänger bloodline... "She was an angel." Damon's eyes flashed with surprise and he leaned back, straightening up. "And you're not supposed to use an angel's blood."
"That's correct," said Aaron. His eyes twinkled with amusement. "And Esther did. To put it simply, she angered quite a lot of spirits that day and set the wrath of quite a few supernatural species upon herself. As retribution for killing a sacred creature such as an angel, well … they let us keep our immortality and power, but they tore us all apart. Klaus daggered Kol, Finn and Rebekah, and chased Elijah across the globe for a couple hundred years for letting Katherine go, while I was forced to stay away from my siblings until now."
Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not getting any of this."
Elena sighed. "Overview: Tatia was an angel, Originals were created using angel blood, this pissed off spirits." Damon glared at her. "Comprehend?"
"Capiche," he retorted. He motioned to Elijah. "What's this gotta do with him?"
Elena face-palmed, Aaron rolled his eyes and Philip munched on a jawbreaker loud enough to wake Duncan, who had been drooling over Elena's leg. "Buh?"
"I'm the second hybrid."
Damon's mouth open and closed a few times as Elijah sat up, his eyes sharply focused. Then he just grunted, reached across the bed for the whiskey, and started downing the lot of it.
Capiche? You have no idea.