Part I ∞ VI Atonement

Being given the figurative cold shoulder is not something Elijah is used to.

Whenever his siblings become cross or upset with him, they express it physically and loudly.

With Niklaus, there had been the usual threats of daggers and coffins, which weren't complete without a violent altercation with a stake or two. On the other hand, Kol would have made a sarcastic mocking quip and the next thing Elijah would know, any careful plans made for their family to stay undetected from Mikael would be foiled due to the blood-drained bodies scattered across the city or something equally vile and grotesque. Rebekah, being the baby of the family and his only sister, would throw a tantrum of equal proportions that could very well kick start the apocalypse. Not only that, if she was so inclined, she had the potential to start a feud that eventually led to the equal division of their family. More often than not, it would be he and Niklaus against Rebekah and Kol.

A shining example of such a conflict orchestrated by his family was the Hundred Years' War.

Never let it be said his family wasn't a vengeful and petty lot.

And yet, this punishment that Katerina has devised after their ugly dispute is something he doesn't quite care for. At all.

Elijah has always felt that patience is a quality he possesses, considering his ease in dealing with his volatile and bad-tempered family members. However, after a week of attempting to reach out to smooth over their differences, which resulted in his efforts thrown back in his face with icy silence and cold glares… It is safe to say that even his usually composed temper is barely hanging on a thread.

As if on cue, a head of rich brown curls comes into his field of sight from the doorway of his study. Elijah pauses, the nib of his fountain pen hovering over the letter he's constructing to an ally he's been intending to seek out. The urge to be the focus of those large coffee-coloured eyes almost overwhelms him and Elijah opens his mouth, her name on the tip of his tongue and—

Katerina is already strutting off in a vision of green and white lace, clearly pretending that she hasn't seen him even though he is precisely less than ten feet away.

He shifts his jaw and runs his tongue over his teeth. Impossible, stubborn woman.

Regardless of the feelings he has towards the world's most exasperating doppelgänger, he understands the animosity he receives. As clear as day, Elijah can remember the heart-stricken look on her face upon realising her accusations of him and his actions are unfortunately true. He recalls the way her bottom lip had quivered or how she had started to look at anything in the room but him. Most of all, he cannot forget the myriad of emotions that flashed across her features. Emotions such as hurt, anger and more hauntingly, disappointment.

He feels as though she'd struck him hard in the chest with a fist and yanked his heart out.

Her outburst had given him plenty of things to reflect on that evening, leading him to the conclusion of the numerous things he wants to say and do—things he should have said and done the moment they had been reunited in Mystic Falls.

But first, he'll start with an apology. An apology that is long overdue for wrongdoings that span close to four centuries. That of course, would soon be followed by yet another apology for the misconception Katerina is labouring under about his current feelings towards her.

Feelings that he has finally accepted wholeheartedly.

But before he attempts to chase her down again, Elijah figures that it would do both of them good to have some more space from each other. Hence, giving Katerina time to cool off after their argument and leaving him to focus on getting his siblings back. It is a task he's been distracted from as of late.

Though the very thought of his disjointed family brings back the familiar stirrings of grief and self-loathing, it also comes with determination.

It is time he set things right.

Elijah doesn't believe that Niklaus, in all of his rage, would be capable of killing Finn by throwing his daggered body into the sea where he would be permanently out of reach. Because not even him, an Original, who has walked the earth for close to a millennium, has the abilities to rescue anyone who suffered such a fate. Regardless of the morbid thought, he has hope and belief in the better nature of his half-brother, who had always placed family above everything else, who'd done what he thought best to avoid Mikael.

And yet, Elijah has to admit that that doesn't excuse Niklaus' ill-treatment of Kol or how nothing has been done to incapacitate the man they called father so that they all can be free.

It may be eight hundred years—give or take a few—and no matter the unfortunate turn of their lives, Elijah still remembers his family when they'd been human and whole. There is a part of him who mourns for his brothers who are kept away and carted around in coffins. And no matter the regret he has towards Finn, it is unlike what he feels for Kol. Elijah remembers the latter as being mischievous and playful in his adolescence, and how such traits had paved the way for Kol's vindictiveness and spite when the situation called for it. And now, his youngest brother is nothing but a toy for Niklaus' amusement. A brother who is simply hauled out of his daggered existence for the chaos he can provide and tucked away when his antics crossed a line.

Lastly, his thoughts fall on Rebekah. Being the only sibling to remain, Elijah cannot help but wonder how long it will take for Niklaus to turn on her the way he'd turned on all of them? With him gone, who would be there to shield her from Niklaus' volatile temper? Who will be the middle ground guiding both parties to making peace?

Hence, his decision to separate himself from Niklaus' influence with the sole goal to reunite his family.

However, despite his familial laments and woes, Elijah cannot deny the distance between him and his siblings has allowed him to breathe easier in years. It doesn't escape his notice that the weight on his shoulders is lighter too. He feels freer than he has in decades, no, centuries.

Without the responsibilities of worrying about the destructive antics of Niklaus, of Rebekah and her tendency to cause chaos whenever something doesn't go her way, of having to walk the fine line of balancing the different supernatural and human factions in New Orleans, he can just be.

But the man who has always been devoted to the safety and wellbeing of his family is reminding him that while he has spent four months away, basking in freedom, his brothers are still kept under lock and key.

The bitter taste of guilt and self-recrimination is strong on his tongue.

Elijah steeples his fingers together, narrowing his gaze onto the partially-crafted letter. He may not have done anything before, but he can start to atone for his inaction now. And while he does not possess Katerina's penchant and ease in subterfuge or espionage, he still has a few loyal contacts scattered across the globe. He needs to gather information on Mikael and his movements, to lead him away from England and New Orleans with false intel and—

"This came for you."

He raises his brows to see Katerina in front of his desk with a white envelope held between her fingers. Her delicate features are set in a petulant withering glower and her guarded stance is angled towards the doorway.

Mouth twisting wryly, he plucks it from her hand. "I assume you are now finally speaking to me?"

"No," she says shortly and lifts her chin. "I don't believe we have anything left to say to each other. You have made things very clear."

With that, she storms off dramatically and Elijah settles back in his chair, staring at her retreating form calculatingly. He shall give her another week to sulk and act out and after... Well, he may be a patient man but that quality has never been extended to Katerina.

There isn't anywhere she can go that he wouldn't be able to follow.

• ∞ • ∞ •

"Would the Lady Katherine care for her meal to be taken—"

"Oh no, there is no need," Elijah's cool nonchalant tone filters through her awareness and Katherine pauses from her spot on the stairs. "If the lady of the house doesn't deem herself fit to make an appearance for breakfast, I do not see why we should accommodate to her schedule."

Her hold on the marble bannisters tighten and Katherine seethes.

Damn him.

What she wouldn't give to have him locked away to rot.

Bracing herself, she straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin before gliding into the dining room where her housemate is seated at the head of the table. Stepping gracefully to her usual spot on his right, she waves the compelled footman away and picks up a scone, all without taking a seat.

"Good morning, Katerina," Elijah greets pointedly from behind his morning papers. "Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence."

She ignores him, focusing all of her attention on spreading a rather obscene amount of clotted cream onto the scone, intent on pretending that he doesn't exist. If she cannot see him, then he is not there. Perhaps that may be a foolish concept, but nonetheless, Katherine finds it exceedingly effective.

With the revelation of Elijah's true outlook on the person she has become, Katherine has taken to avoiding him. It isn't hard, considering the size of the townhouse and its many rooms. Additionally, with how running and avoiding are two things that come all too easily to her these days, she's more than successful in her endeavours.

Katherine isn't proud of her cowardly behaviour. But with how her pride had taken a huge bloody whacking from the man, she's resolved to lick her wounds alone until she regains her dignity. Or at least until her defences and walls are fortified with better offensive strategies. Never again will she allow the Original to get under her skin as he'd done.

Elijah has made it clear that the woman he wants is the one she's all but murdered to survive.

"I see that your sunny disposition has not yet lifted."

At the mordant tone of his words, she itches to shove her butter knife into his face. Instead, Katherine shrugs and takes a bite into her breakfast. Without a word, she polishes the confection and takes her leave.

Except that the masculine hand gripping her elbow is preventing her from taking another step.

She scowls, fighting furiously to remove herself from his grip to no avail. The next thing she knows is being turned on her heels to face him. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Katherine glares up at him, almost daring him to comment. Which of course, he does.

"I do not like to be ignored."

"That is too bad," she snaps, doing her best to free herself with another harsh yank. "We can't always get what we want."

"In that case, what do you desire for?"

She cocks her head at the sudden drop in his tone, her spine prickling at his cajoling intonation before she gives him a steady look. "I wish for you to let go and to leave me alone."

Elijah makes a scoffing sound and the arrogant smirk that graces his lips sets her already frayed nerves on edge. "We made a deal, Katerina—"

"It's Katherine," she hisses forcefully, eyes flashing. "My name is Katherine! And our deal does not state that we have to be on proper speaking terms! In fact, I don't believe we have to be more than acquaintances!"

"I was not aware we are just acquaintances," he points out mildly.

She narrows her gaze. "Barely."

"Do you truly believe that?"

She falters at the way he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes. There is something there in those hazel-brown irises, something foreign and so unlike the even-mannered man she knows who clings too tightly to his code of morals and decorum—something determined and wild. Beneath her ribcage, her heart begins thundering.

Katherine doesn't allow herself to flinch from the intensity of his gaze that always seems to cut through her walls so easily. "Yes."

The Original takes a step closer and she moves away until her attempts to put some distance between them is foiled due to the solid wall against her back. She shifts, suddenly all too aware of being cornered with nowhere to run. It doesn't help that the realisation of how the tables have turned against her, coupled with their newfound proximity is wreaking havoc on her mind. Katherine seethes.

"What are you doing?" she demands, fingers curling into the folds and ruffles of her skirt.

He ignores her question. "Do acquaintances have a history that spans three hundred and seventy-two years as we do?"

"What?" she sputters, eyes going wide.

Whatever insipid plot or game she's suspected Elijah of crafting to get them back on speaking terms, she hasn't been expecting that. After everything, Katherine hates that he's caught her off guard with that one measly remark. Isn't she supposed to be the manipulative schemer?

Through narrowed eyes, Katherine catches a flash of his teeth as his smirk widens. "I confess that I cannot accept having our association being labelled as such. Not after everything we have gone through."

"Everything we have gone through?" she echoes sardonically and tosses her curls over her shoulder. "Such as lining me up to be sacrificed for your brother's ritual? Or are you referring to that one time where my family was murdered because I killed myself to escape?"

Elijah tenses and she smiles derisively. Being trapped and backed into a corner has her metaphorical claws out. He doesn't respond, but to his credit, the Original takes her verbal blows as well as he can but not before she sees a flash of weariness and shame in his gaze.

Encouraged by that crack in his facade, Katherine continues tauntingly, boldly running a hand up his chest. "Or shall I bring up being hunted down like a filthy animal ever since? Are these appropriate examples of the history we share, my Lord Elijah?" she finishes with a sultry purr and with a finger grazing the line of his jaw.

She waits for Elijah to begin defending his actions and explaining his reasons for the things he'd done to her, to start preaching about his steadfast belief in family and that damned Mikaelson motto about Always and Forever, and how things are different and that she has to understand things from his viewpoint or—

"I am afraid to admit that our disagreement the other day has… finally shed some clarity on our situation," he says quietly. His brows are knotted and his dark eyes are imploring, pleading for her to listen. "Forgive me. For everything."

Katherine blinks, her mouth falling open.

He shifts, inching closer as he reaches to clasp her hand at his jaw, covering the back of her palm with his warm grip. "Forgive me," he says somberly, leaning into her touch. "I should have fought harder against Niklaus regarding your role in breaking his curse. I should not have stood aside as he killed your family, nor should I have done his bidding to hunt you down all these years. I beg for your forgiveness for these transgressions."

Silence reigns and Katherine swallows hard, unable to deny that her hands are trembling, nor the way the back of her eyes are stinging with tears.

She cannot allow herself to fall apart now. Not in front of Elijah.

"Those are just words," she says flatly, relief flooding through her veins at the way her voice comes out strong and unwavering.

"I am aware," he concedes and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I am aware that there is nothing I can do or say that will atone for the mistakes I have made when it comes to you. But," he pauses, brows creasing as he cradles her face softly, "if you will allow me, I shall spend the rest of my life doing all that I can to make it up to you."

Her heart skitters to a stop.

A moment later, it speeds up frantically and all Katherine can think about and focus on is how sincere and determined he appears to be. The warmth of his hands seeps into her skin and the manner that his eyes scan her features carefully and beseechingly tugs at the stupid girl that she thought she's killed oh so long ago.

"You are immortal," she points out derisively, wrapping her fingers around his wrists to pull his hands away from her face. "Forever is a very, very long time."

Elijah nods. Undaunted by her rejection and scepticism, he manages to slip his hands over hers and intertwines their fingers. "I do understand the meaning of forever, Katerina. You should know by now that I do not take my words lightly."

She stares down at their linked hands.

There is a part of her—the Bulgarian peasant whose head is so easily turned by sweet nothings and empty promises—that wants nothing more than to fall into Elijah's arms.

And therein lies both the problem and the reason why she cannot, no matter how much she wishes she can.

"Enough Elijah." She shakes her head and lowers her gaze. "I don't wish to hear another word." The Original frowns and opens his mouth to interrupt but she freezes him with a glare. "Thank you for your apology, but I am sorry that I cannot be who you want. I am not Katerina. Not anymore."

"No," he shifts his jaw. "You misunderstand me—"

"Oh? Have I?" she retorts and fixes him with a challenging look. "Do enlighten me considering the numerous times you reproach and lecture me for things I would never have done if I was human. Am I wrong, Elijah? Do you not search my face for hints of that stupid innocent girl I was?"

His brows furrow. "Katerina—"

Katherine doesn't let him finish, instead, she barrels on, fueled by hurt and indignation at his rejection of the person she is now. "Do you not comfort yourself with the idea that I will be the same person you betrayed all those years ago? That I would be waiting for you with open arms once you finally caught up with me?"

His nostrils flare and his jaw shifts and the warning in his eyes are a clear sign that she's toeing the line drawn in the sand. At this point, Katherine knows she really should stop goading and taunting Elijah considering his current tempestuous mood, but she's too far gone to care.

Self-preservation be damned.

"Or do you believe in some misguided notion that you are rescuing me from the person I have become? That you somehow have the ability to make the last three hundred and seventy-two years of terror feel like nothing but a distant dream? Or have you forgotten that you were the architect of that innocent Bulgarian peasant's destruction—that same Bulgarian peasant you claim to love?"

At her mocking tone, his gaze flashes, the distorted veins under his eyes making an appearance and she finally sees the monster living under his refined facade. "I am warning you not to speak of things that you don't understand, Katerina," Elijah growls and the peek of his fangs against his lips sends a sharp bolt of heat zipping down her spine. "You are treading on dangerous grounds with your unfounded presumptions. I am an Original, show some respect."

She scoffs and this time, it is her turn to bare her fangs at him in warning. "And I am Katherine Pierce. Up. Your. Arse. "

With that, she shoves at him violently, satisfaction filling her at the way his face slackens with shock at her behaviour. She doesn't bother waiting for a response and pivots on her heel. She is more than eager to put the morning's events behind her and forget the entire disaster with the Original Arse when her back collides with the wall.

The next thing she knows, Elijah is kissing her.

When she was human, Katherine will freely admit to having fantasised about kissing Elijah despite being engaged to his younger brother. She had always imagined that his kisses would be gentle—tender, his mouth carefully seeking out her own, his lips soft and full of promise as they moved against hers slowly; he would be every inch the gentleman he displays himself to be.

Reality, Katherine is glad to find out, is in fact, so much better.

She moans, lashes fluttering as he punishes her with a hard demanding kiss. Arching her back, Katherine presses herself wantonly against his chest, hands sliding up his clothed chest to wrap around his neck so that she can pull him closer. Knotting her wrists at his nape, she kisses him back ardently and with abandon—the way she'd always wanted to.

Every nerve in her body is set alight with flames of desire, while lust is a throbbing need that lives and breathes in her soul.

Apparently, all the time she has spent running and hiding from him have built up to approximately four hundred years worth of emotional and sexual foreplay.

A hand slips up her waist to cradle the back of her head and Elijah's fingers twist and knot among her unruly curls, enabling him to better angle her head and subsequently, her mouth to meld against his. When his other hand manages to find her hip through the layers of her dress and squeezes, Katherine shudders in his embrace, involuntarily scratching her nails against the erogenous zones of his nape, causing the usually unflappable man to jerk as though he's struck by lightning.

Before she can react (or more accurately, to gloat), the sharp sting of his teeth nipping against her bottom lip steals any responses she has. Head lolling back, she pants to catch her breath as Elijah presses her fully against the wall, caging her with his form.

Undeterred, his lips graze down to the column of her neck and Katherine whimpers at the scrape of a fang against her overly-sensitised skin, right at the tendon where her neck meets her shoulder. The sheer image of him sinking his fangs into her skin, drinking from her sends her spinning and she clenches her legs together. Liquid arousal pools at the apex of her thighs and she rubs herself against him like a cat in heat, eager for more of his touches and tantalising kisses that leave her needy and weak at the knees.

God, the way she yearns for him, to touch him, to feel his skin on hers—she's coming to realise she hasn't wanted anyone like this before.

"Elijah, please, " she breathes out huskily, fingers urgently slipping down to scrabble at his necktie to tug it loose. Katherine thinks she might die if she doesn't get his clothes off now.

However, just as the thin fabric slips through its knot, Elijah pulls his head away. Yet, the proximity between their bodies doesn't lessen, nor does his unyielding grip on her right hip. Resting his forehead against hers, he breathes raggedly and unsteadily, his pupils dilated to the extent that his honey-brown irises are barely visible.

"Why did you stop?" Katherine demands, craning her neck back to look him in the eye.

"Because I want us to do this right," he says hoarsely, voice thickened with lust and need. The guttural sound he produces when she reaches up to run a fingertip along the shell of his ear sets her blood on fire.

"This?"

"This." Elijah releases her to tilt her chin up as the pad of his thumb runs over her swollen bottom lip. Her breath hitches at that small contact. "Us," he clarifies, stroking her cheek. "Katherine or Katerina, or whatever you wish to call yourself, they are all sides to the woman who has cast a spell over me since 1492. Nothing about what I feel—or felt—has changed since then."

How can she believe such prettily spoken words by the man who has caused her so much pain and heartache?

"No," she presses her lips into a thin line, meeting his fervent fevered eyes, "You will end up betraying me."

"I assure you that I would not."

"Don't make promises you cannot keep, Elijah." In a last-ditch attempt to turn this conversation in her favour, Katherine clings onto him, her palms splayed out over his chest as she allows her lips to graze against his throat teasingly before moving to his jaw. "Now, enough talking and…"

Before she can kiss him again, Elijah averts his face, his expression falling. "I am not playing games, Katerina. Not this time. Not with you." He cards a hand through her tousled curls, fingers toying with a lock. "What will it take for you to believe me? To give me a chance to get things right between us?"

She pulls away to look at him properly. "You are serious," she observes flatly, noting the gravely determined set to his lips and the honest yearning in his gaze. Her gut churns and Katherine lets her hands drop to her sides. "Goodbye, Elijah."

Barely a second later, she removes herself from his embrace and flashes out of the house.

• ∞ • ∞ •

Typical of her, she finds trouble the moment she steps out onto the street.

The fire in her brain coupled with the sting of vervain against her skin renders her incapable of walking. Bending over as she clutches her head, Katherine isn't given a chance to cry out for help when the agony in her brain increases and everything turns black.

She is woken at the feel of a crudely fashioned stake driving through her gut. Involuntarily, she shrieks, bucking against what must be vervain-soaked ropes that are binding her to a chair. A woman steps out of the shadows from the shabby room she's in. From the menacing magical aura she exudes, as well as the bubbling of her blood in her veins, it isn't hard for Katherine to deduce she is a witch. An angry one from the way she rages at her for slaughtering the other members of her coven.

Apparently, there had been ten members, not eight.

Katherine scowls at her carelessness, gritting her teeth as the wooden stake pinning her down scrapes against her lungs precariously. It is just her luck that things had to get worse. That is further highlighted when two more stakes are shoved through her torso, both narrowly missing her heart and a rag soaked with vervain is pushed into her mouth. Killing her, as one of the witches have declared, isn't their intention as that honour would go to Klaus, but that doesn't mean they couldn't torture her first.

Panting laboriously, she struggles against her bonds and strains her ears to catch the conversation between the two witches.

"... risky to contact… no other alternatives…"

"... Klaus would be pleased… able to pardon…"

"... not alone… an older vampire… another Original..."

At that, Katherine stiffens. She has to get out of here before Klaus or his dogs shows up. However, with the vervain coursing through her body and the three stakes embedded in her chest, making her a vampire pincushion, escaping is a slim chance especially when she isn't at her full strength. It doesn't help that she's severely weakened and incapable of fending off two blood-thirsty witches hell-bent on revenge.

The odds may be stacked against her but Katherine refuses to keel over and accept her fate without putting up a fight. She has and always will be a survivor.

Flexing her fingers to test her bonds, she steels herself for the burn of forcing her hands out of the vervain ropes. True enough, her eyes well up with tears as she gnashes her teeth to fight the urge to scream against the excruciating agony. But determination and her will to live are worthy opponents of her foes.

Unfortunately, before she manages to remove the ropes around her form, a stake is driven into her back and Katherine gasps as more blood pools out of her wounds and drips to the growing coagulating puddle under her chair.

"Where do you think you're going, Miss Pierce?" One of the witches taunts and pushes the wood further into her body. "I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave, not when you have an upcoming appointment with Klaus."

Katherine grits her teeth and is about to respond with a scornful remark when a scream echoes and blood, hot and thick, soon splatters all over her. Blinking, she tries to make sense of what she's seeing because surely Elijah isn't in front of her with a bloody organ in his hands.

"Elijah?" she croaks out when he gently takes the gag out of her mouth.

She hasn't counted on him coming to her rescue, not after she's shut him down earlier. But as clear as day, it is him she sees before her, removing her bonds with concern and murderous fury in his dark gaze. A sharp cry escapes from her throat when he pulls the stakes out of her body. Weakened from blood loss, she sags against him, relief flooding through her from being in his embrace.

"How'd you find me?" she slurs, her head lolling against his chest as he picks her up carefully, his arms under her back and knees.

"Did you truly think that after all this time, I would not be able to find you?" A hand pushes her matted curls away from her face and brushes the curve of her cheekbone and Katherine sighs and presses her face into the crook of his neck.

"Don't be an arse," she grumbles, her voice muffled against his skin.

A small chuckle eases from Elijah's mouth. Coupled with the safety that he provides, and the lulling motions of his gait, she settles easily against him, soothed by his presence and the steady beat of his heart against her ear.

With that, Katherine closes her eyes and falls into oblivion. But not before acknowledging the kiss Elijah presses against her temple.

• ∞ • ∞ •

1864, Mystic Falls, Virginia

Being set on fire in a great blaze, the church in Mystic Falls has all but crumbled, leaving great charred blocks of granite and ashes in its wake to be forgotten. What was once a historic sight is nothing but a shell of its former glory except for being a tomb for twenty-seven desiccated vampires.

Damon Salvatore stares grimly at the wide stone door with a pentagram carved into its cool surface. His hands twitch as he spins and fiddles with the ring on his finger, a daylight ring courtesy of Emily Bennett. It is a twin to the one that his brother, Stefan, possesses too.

A brother who has led him down this path into what they are today.

But that doesn't bother Damon now.

No, what preys on his mind is that the love of his life is stuck behind this giant spelled stone slab, desiccating from the lack of blood. Damon purses his lips and presses a hand against the door, one of his fingers intersecting the lines of the pentagram. He closes his eyes and conjures up an image of Katherine lying behind the enormous stone waiting for him to come to her rescue.

Leaning his forehead against the cool granite, Damon closes his eyes and comforts himself with the idea that Katherine could sense him and is currently reaching out to seek comfort from his presence. He recalls her brown doe eyes that have always been gleaming with mischief and smouldering temptation, of her dark curls falling over her tanned shoulders, of the way she'd looked at him as though he was the only person in the room.

A pang of longing hits him and Damon almost falls to his knees.

It had been hell the moment he'd awoken from death to find out her fate. However, the knowledge that Emily had given him, that his Katherine is alive and well is his salvation. He almost regrets that he'd done nothing to help the witch when she'd faced the fate of being trialled and burnt at a stake.

But Damon soon comes to realise that he can live with the choices he's made as long as the love of his life is safe (never mind her desiccated status).

Opening his eyes and giving one last look at the door, his jaw sets in determination and he curls his hands into fists at his sides.

He swears that he would do anything to get her out of there.

Even if it would take him a century.

A/N: Please review! :)

Also, Dark Angels and Light Angels, thank you so much! I'm truly glad you enjoyed it as much as I did writing this! And as for Katherine's methods to keep herself alive, they may not be kind but all in the name of self-preservation lol. Nonetheless, thank you once more for reading! :)