Philippe had always had terrible timing. Klaus and Elijah did not at all look happy when he finally managed to find them - probably because Mikael had found them first.
Merde.
His arrival had created a moment of confusion for everyone but Elijah was the only one to seize it. Philippe watched him grasp for something on the ground behind his father. In the next second he had driven the wooden stake deep into Mikael's back.
"I do hope you brought the real one," Klaus flew at him.
"All yours," Philippe nodded, tossing over the White Oak stake.
Elijah wrestled Mikael's arms behind his back without mercy. With him restrained, his chest and heart exposed, Klaus fisted the stake and stepped forward.
But before he could strike, his brother kneed their captive so viciously in the back one could hear the spine snap down the street. Mikael crumpled to the ground, groaning in the filth of the alley as Elijah stood over him and aligned his shoulders dead square.
"Give it to me."
With that tone, Klaus knew he would not ask twice. He handed over the White Oak stake, content to be a spectator for the grand finale.
The end came very fast, without ceremony, without emotion, without hesitation. Elijah simply fell to one knee, raised the stake, and brought it down - and he drove it down until it was swallowed by flesh and the bone shattered and it pierced the heart.
But nothing else happened.
The flames of vindication never erupted. Falling back on his heels, Elijah opened his fist, leaving the stake in the corpse as he rose to his feet in bewilderment.
He looked to Niklaus, then Philippe. Their expressions all voiced the same concern.
"Something's wrong."
"You bloody think?" Klaus snapped. "I'm baffled how you managed to cock this one up."
"Patricide is your forte," Elijah retorted. "If you have some special insight into why our father is not a pile of ash, then please."
Throwing his brother a nasty glare, Klaus shoved him aside, cursing his incompetence and assuming a steadier aim would bring a swift end to this issue. But distracted by their argument, neither had realized their father had moved until the alley echoed with the sound of broken bone.
Philippe crumpled to the ground - neck snapped, out cold - and there was Mikael standing over him, a bloody hole in the middle of his chest and the White Oak stake in hand.
\
Sankar was right; they didn't have time for this. Every minute Hope and Hayley spent arguing with him over probability and possibility was another minute Elijah was fighting with a weapon that would never work against an enemy that would never die.
"Will the two of you just shut up so I can think for a goddamn second?"
"Think about what?" Hope cried out. "Leah, you can't seriously be considering this!"
"He said 'may.'"
"He said you could die!"
"He said I could maybe die, as opposed to the definite massacre that could go down any second as you stand here and argue with me!"
"Because you're being stubborn, and stupid - you don't know what you're agreeing to!"
"Call it an experiment. I'm donating my body to science."
"This is not funny, Leah!"
"You think I don't know that? Do you think I'm so fucked up in the head I can't see what I'm risking? I know I'm taking a chance on my life, but I'm taking that chance for you. So stop fighting me on this and just cross your fingers and pray. That will do more good than trying to talk me out of it."
But Hope had started crying as if tears were all she had left to plead her case. She spun toward her mother, expecting support, but Hayley had turned her face away, her thoughts as tightly guarded as her arms crossed at her chest.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Leah was now asking Sankar.
"Removing the magic will be a simple procedure. Parents often have it performed on infants whom they do not wish to suffer the burden of a supernatural existence."
"Tell me about it," she swallowed, hoping she was brave enough for this.
"However, before I begin, Leah, I will need your final consent. I need to know that you are fully aware of the ultimate potential consequence of this decision."
"Leah, don't!" Hope grabbed her. "Don't do this - we'll find another way!"
"When? In a hundred years? Five hundred - a thousand? A thousand more years of running? Aren't you tired, Hope? Don't you want to go home?"
"I don't want to go home, I want you to live!"
"And I want you to trust me. I need you to trust me. Trust that I am doing the right thing."
"But what if you're wrong, Leah? Would you do that to me - would you do that to Elijah?"
Leah flinched, shutting her eyes before her courage abandoned her. She could forgive Hope's desperate selfishness but she could not forgive herself if Elijah spent all eternity believing she had made this choice for any reason other than she loved him.
She was regretting that he was not here so she could tell him just that. Then again, it had always been so hard for her to say those words, easier to cloud herself in every other emotion than the one that wanted to shine through the most.
If I make it out of this, I'll tell him, she promised.
If I make it out of this, I'll be lucky as hell.
And if I don't...
In her head, the decision was made. She would not condemn Hope and Elijah to run from Mikael forever, not when she had felt every ounce of the hate that fueled his ever-wakeful thoughts. Not when he had driven them from their homes and would never let them return. Not when she could end this all tonight if she could just swallow her fear and be brave.
So that's what she did. Leah took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
/
Klaus and Elijah were sitting ducks. They stood in the middle of the alley, planted by their disbelief as Mikael kicked aside Philippe's body and descended on them in a rage.
He went for Elijah first, backhanding him hard and sending him sprawling across the steaming asphalt. Weaponless, Klaus tried to throw himself between them, but Mikael swung out and drove him back.
"Do not make the same mistake twice, boy."
"My only mistake was not killing you myself."
Klaus never took his eyes off the White Oak stake leveled at his chest. Retreat was not an option; the brothers' only hope was to regain possession of the weapon in Mikael's hand.
Elijah was already on it; pushing off from the ground he lunged at his father.
But at the edge of his vision, Mikael foresaw the attack. He pivoted, propelling the stake into a violent uppercut until Elijah was straining with everything he had to keep the point from burying itself through his chest.
Klaus had never moved so fast in his life. He plucked the dagger from the alley floor, the bare blade drawing blood as he fisted his hand around it and rushed to his brother's defense.
Yet without the handle, the dagger was unwieldable. It had barely torn through the back of his suit before Mikael turned the stake away from Elijah to finish off his bastard brother. He hurled Klaus from his back, casting him down at his feet.
But the hybrid brought the vampire down with him.
They rolled across the black ground, locked in a struggle for possession of the stake; Elijah would have pulled one off the other if he could have told the two apart. It wasn't until he heard the howl of victory that he knew his brother had won.
Klaus brought the White Oak stake down in a violent arc, driving it in relentlessly until he felt the weapon tear through the softness that lay between the bone. Mikael's roar died in his throat as his eyes went dark with the realization of his fate; if it was fear, or regret, or acceptance reflected there, Klaus never saw it. He wasn't looking.
He had locked eyes with his brother, so Elijah would know he was doing this for him.
With one final thrust the alley was engulfed in flame.
\
The water felt ice cold as Leah splashed it on her face.
Frowning at herself in the mirror, her chest grew tight as she stuck her hands under the faucet once more. She'd locked herself in the bathroom under the excuse of cleaning up a bit before the others returned. That had been ten minutes ago. Now she was simply hiding from Hope's endless stream of questions about how she was feeling post magic-extraction.
For all the brouhaha before, it had been a routine procedure. Everything had gone smoothly; some strange, off-brand mumbo-jumbo and Sankar had stripped every last atom of Harvest magic from her body. Talk about finally being sober; Leah felt good. She felt great!
She felt alive.
Hope, however, refused to take her word for it.
"Leah," she pounded on the bathroom door. "Leah, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, fine," she shouted back, scrambling to turn off the hot water. "Everything's fine."
"Let me in. I want to see for myself."
Hands still wet, Leah unlocked the door and swung it open.
"See? Fine. Thanks."
She grabbed at the change of clothes in Hope's hand and tossed them onto the counter, roping a towel down from its peg.
"News on Elijah?" she asked drying her hands.
"Heading back now. It's done, Leah. My Mom just confirmed it."
"Mikael's dead?"
"Leah... are you sure you're feeling okay? Sankar said if there were any negative effects you would know right away."
For a moment she was unable to look Hope in the eyes. Leah stared down at her hands as she slowly balled up the towel.
"You know what? Why don't you go make us some drinks. I'll be out in a second and we can celebrate being out of the woods together. How's that sound, good?"
Leah smiled and Hope wanted to believe it.
"Yeah, sounds good."
"Great."
But as soon as she was alone, Leah locked the door and threw herself over the sink. Even as she turned on the water again she kept telling herself nothing was wrong.
She shoved her hands back under the tap, blinking back tears of frustration.
The water was hot - scalding; her hands were red and raw.
And yet all Leah could feel was the cold.
