I do not own TVD or TO

This story started out as a one shot. I was envisioning a tiny little fic, but then I started and I couldn't stop writing. There was just too much for a one shot.

I'm around 60K right now and I've still got a lot to cover.

There may be some content that people might find triggering and I will do my best to remember to put a TW at the starts of those chapters. If I forget and you notice something feel free to PM me or even leave a review about it and I'll go back and add a TW to that chapter.

It needs a nice cover. I feel compelled to mention that I have not seen season 5 or most of season 4 of the Originals. This story is AU.

"No," she slammed her hands back on the desk. Her favourite pen jumped and dropped towards the ground.

He caught it without breaking eye contact.

"Caroline…"

She cut him off before he could begin with the flowery appeals and snatched back her pen and using it to stab at his chest.

"Absolutely not."

"Were I not desperate, I would not ask," his hand darted out, fingers curling around her wrist. "Please Caroline."

"They're children," she shook her head, backing up as she did until her thighs hit wood, and exhaled through her nose.

"They're siphoner witches; I could easily argue that this is what they were born to do." He gestured with one hand, making a circular motion. "Siphon magic from one thing and put it in another."

"And what exactly are they supposed to do with it when they take it out of Hope?" Caroline rolled her eyes. The very idea was insane. "You can't just shove a demon in a jar and shove it on a high shelf."

"You're misunderstanding, love," he shook his head slowly with a wry smirk on his full lips. "They'll put it in me."

"Right," she scoffed, crossing her arms. "I can see it now. You can take up yoga and practice mindful meditation while we all cross our fingers and hope you don't develop some sort of malicious temper." She looked him up and down and amended with raised brows: "a more malicious temper."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, a ghostly imitation of amusement that failed to reach his eyes. She hugged her elbows, sensing his next words, and tasted something foul on the tip of her tongue.

"Do you remember when you and your friends threatened to chain me up, drown me in cement and drop me in the deepest ocean?"

Recognition flickered in her wide shook her head.

"I was just a kid back then," she whispered.

"When your daughters put the magic in me, I need you to make good on that."

Words, promises made a lifetime ago, echoed in her mind. 'Great cities, and art and music' drifted off on a breeze, 'your last' seemed impossible.

She was meant to have a century or perhaps two before she let herself remember what the attraction had felt like when someone capable of terrible things for some reason only cared for her.

Decades were supposed to pass where she tried and failed to stop thinking of him, to forget the way his affection consumed her, but not a day went by where she managed to banish him from her thoughts completely. Snow fell and she thought of his lonely painting. Her fingers brushed the dress box and she remembered their dance. Autumn leaves crunched underfoot and she felt the scrape of bark across her shoulders.

She looked at Hope, beautiful, thoughtful, clever Hope, and she saw her father.

How could she take him away from her?

How could he make good on all of his promises?

How could she give him a chance when his social circle consisted of a school of fish?

And maybe it made her selfish, maybe it meant she was a terrible person, but after a lifetime of giving everything to her friends and the kids and the school she thought she deserved to be a little selfish.

She deserved to get one thing that she wanted; just one thing.

Dammit all!

She deserved to have however long it took to decide she wanted it.

How could she meet eternity when her last love wasted away at the bottom of the deepest ocean?

"I won't fight you this time," Klaus' defeated tone drew her attention. "I cannot allow my daughter to die, but I swear that I will not endanger yours. Caroline, please."

She nearly scoffed again, as if there was real danger posed to her daughters. They knew how to siphon, and they knew how to place that stolen magic in new receptacles. Danger to her children, in their current situation, remained non-existent. She knew it and she suspected he knew it but worried that she thought otherwise.

How could he not see where her true fear lay?

"Caroline."

She thought she might have been silent too long.

"I'm begging you, and I never beg; I will get down on my knees if necessary."

That should have weakened her resolve, but it only hardened, manifesting in a clicked jaw and steel gaze.

"No," she exhaled, spinning on her heel.

"Caroline, wait," he snatched her elbow. "If the Hollow doesn't leave Hope she will die. The transformation tonight will kill her."

Her arm tingled beneath his touch, and if she had anything to say about it then she would have more time to interpret that feeling and the way her stomach swooped when he called her 'love'.

"You're misunderstanding, Klaus," she tossed his words back with more bite. "I'll get the girls to take it from Hope, but they are not putting it in you."

She strode from her office with her head held high, offering tight nods to students and staff along the way, sensing Klaus on her heels as she entered the library. She immediately noted Hope's absence and assumed the teenager had gone to lay down in some vain attempt to reserve strength for the night. That didn't surprise her.

What did surprise her was the Original holding one of the books she needed.

"I'll take that," she stole the book from Kol's hands. Then she piled a blue and red volume on top. "And this, and this…" she pulled down books until the stack wobble precariously.

"Does it make a difference that I was reading that?"

She cut a sideways glance, sliding her eyes over Kol thoughtfully.

"No," she decided, "but I'm gonna take you too, come on."

She waved one hand for him to follow and didn't bother to look back, knowing that Klaus would drag his brother along if necessary.

"Where exactly are we going, and why are you taking me?" Kol's question came when they stepped into the afternoon light.

Caroline tossed the ancient books into the backseat of her car and turned to face them, arms crossed and features schooled into what Lizzie liked to call her McGonagall expression.

"We are going to Bonnie's house. I am taking you because the inside of your head is like witch-a-pedia. I am taking the books because they deal with malignant spirits." She took her phone from her back pocket and checked the time, mentally tallying the hours. "You and Bonnie will have until 9:33 pm, almost nine hours, to find some vessel strong enough to contain the Hollow - preferably for the rest of time."

Kol's 'oh-so-fool's-errand' came in tandem with Klaus' scoff.

"You expect Bonnie Bennett to help?" Bitterness curled his bottom lip. "She hates me, and I'm not going to waste what time I have when there is a viable solution."

"That's not a solution," she cried, tossing her hands up. She felt more the overdramatic teenager in that moment then when she actually had been one, but she didn't care. "It's martyrdom. There is another solution somewhere, a real one, and Bonnie will find it."

"Forgive me for not putting my faith in Bonnie Bennett, love, but she won't help. Will she Kol?" He snapped, looking to his left only to find his little brother gone and the books missing. "Kol?"

"It looks like he has faith in the fool's errand," she rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna call Bon, and you," she pointed to him with her cell phone, "don't even think about asking the twins to siphon for you."

"You can't fight this Caroline," he shook his head.

Her head bobbed from side to side, fuelled by the restless energy of her determination.

"Did you know that whenever anyone tells me I can't do something I prove them wrong?"

Bonnie opened the once spacious trunk and groaned, though she didn't know why. Given Elena's attitude to the entire situation the state of her car should come as no surprise.

"This is ridiculous." She shifted a handful of plastic bags, accidentally knocking the lid off a large tote box. A single glance at the stuffed interior, dozens upon dozens of clothes that could have only been packed by Caroline's hand, told her the cover had been precarious at best; she placed a knee on the vehicle for leverage as she compressed the material and snapped the lid back in place.

"I've been told not to lift anything heavy," she scrutinized the trunk for a spot to place the smaller items.

"Caroline gave you this stuff months ago." She gestured to everything given to and purchased by her friend in the last few months. Somehow she knew the bedroom she and Caroline helped empty and paint sat vacant in the Lake house. "Did you take anything inside?"

"The gift bags," Elena rested a hip on the car's bumper.

"Nice try," Bonnie waved a hand, "but those were given to you inside."

Elena followed the line of her hand and found Connor Grant, the up and coming football star who had been roped into helping by the coach. The man had sworn he couldn't allow two small woman to deal with the large purchase alone.

"Misogynistic pig," she muttered under her breath.

"Mr. Clarke was being polite," Bonnie snorted, amending her support when she received the side eye. "Sort of… in a sexist kind of way."

"Do you think this is going to fit, ma'am?" Connor appraised the packed vehicle, brows lowered with scepticism.

"Just slide it on top of the blue totes," she opened the car and flipped down the backseats, "push it forward and it should fit fine."

She guided the long box with her hands while Bonnie and Connor wrestled it in at the back. She suspected more than a little magic was utilized in the process by Bonnie and herself; somehow they had made traveller and witch magic blend to the point where they would have had an easier time without Connor, but then she would have to deal with the wagging tongues when someone inevitably saw a woman clearly in her third trimester 'lifting' a very heavy box.

The trunk closed smoothly and Bonnie placed a second, smaller, box in the backseat.

"See," Elena waved a hand, shooting her friend a triumphant grin, "perfect fit. Thank you, Connor. Tell Coach Clarke you finished your community service for the day."

"No problem, ma'am," Connor smiled and wheeled the cart back towards the store.

She wondered if he would be vandalizing the Salvatore school later. The big game was scheduled for week's end.

"Do I look like a ma'am to you?" Elena climbed into the driver's seat.

"Well, you are thirty-four," Bonnie fastened her seatbelt.

"Yes, but," Elena backed into the lot, directing the car towards the road, "between the vampirism, the cure and the coma, physically I'm only twenty-six."

Bonnie shrugged.

"You remember what it was like being a teenager. Anyone out of high school was an adult and if they were doing anything remotely grown up they were ancient." She smirked, gesturing with one hand to the back.

"So, I don't look like a ma'am?" She dropped one hand to her stomach, blocking the tiny limb from hitting the wheel. The car slowed to a stop at a red light; Bonnie used the opportunity to nod at the blonde girl leaving the Grille.

"Steal Dana's uniform and you're a cheerleader in trouble."

"I don't think it would fit," Elena laughed, guiding her car around an expensive looking Bentley and signalling to turn. Bonnie's house peaked at them from the end of the street. An extra car sat in the driveway; Bonnie failed to notice.

"Seriously though, you need to take stuff inside and get it set up because in the car it's useless."

"The moment I do that then I have to acknowledge that it's real, it's really happening." She chewed her bottom lip.

"Elena," Bonnie laid a soft hand on her arm, touch matching her tone, "this is real, and it's really happening. I thought you wanted this?"

There were moments her actions and behaviours matched her early declaration and there were times she said something like that and Bonnie would doubt.

"I do want this, Bon, I just… I…" she scrambled for words to explain and came down with the start of a headache. A tightness in her chest made her slow.

She parked along the curb muttering 'nevermind' under her breath.

"Why are we stopping?"

She sensed the concern in her friend's voice and clenched the wheel. Cold pushed outwards from her churning stomach; she shook her head from side to side, eyes lighting on an excuse that would get Bonnie out of the car.

"Original," she nodded to the door. Oddly enough she found the sight of her once enemy a relief.

"What the hell does he want?" Bonnie's green eyes narrowed. She fished out her phone, certain someone would have given her a clue as to why he sat on her porch swing with a pile of books.

The screen flashed three missed calls and a text from Caroline that she read aloud: 'Kol is at your house, or he will be soon. I need the two of you to work together for a spell to save Hope's life. Kol can explain more. Please help him. She's only got until moonrise.'

"That's not a lot of time," Bonnie glanced towards the porch, sighing.

"Go help," Elena breathed.

"Don't try to take that stuff inside on your own."

She swore not to and took off when Bonnie got out, making it to the opening of the lake road before her heaves grew severe enough that she didn't dare go farther. She slowed to a crawl, and then a stop, miraculously finding herself in the driveway.

She tripped from the car and dropped, catching her weight on hands and knees. The calm wind picked up, buffeting her body with every heaved breath.

Panic attack, her unhelpful brain supplied; only she couldn't remember what to do, and that made it worse.

Pressure curled around her upper body, tightening and chasing away the cold.

"Breathe in, one, two, three, hold," a hand stroked her hair, "and out."

Elena followed the instructions again and again until her heart, her breathing and the wind calmed. Still, it took her a long time to realize her panic attack coach rocked them both, but eventually the soft sway upset her stomach enough that she had to pull away.

She fiddled with a silver bracelet, turning it over between her fingers as her brows drew together over tired eyes that surveyed the kneeling blonde.

"Rebekah," she sniffed, "what are you doing here?"

"Talking you through hyperventilation," she half-shrugged, leaning in the open door to stand. Bending at the waist she placed one hand on Elena's back and the other beneath her elbow to gently tug the brunette to her feet.

"Rebekah," she sighed.

How many years had passed since she last saw the Original?

She reached around the wheel and shut off the ignition, placing the keys in Elena's palm. Her head turned as she tapped her fingers on the hood of the car, focusing on the organized chaos spilling into the backseat.

"Who is helping you with all of this stuff?" She squinted at the fine print on the largest box, and then further to the many bags.

A faint flush stained her cheeks. "Nobody."

Rebekah's eyes snapped to Elena's impossibly round stomach. She shut the driver's door and pushed a button on the key, popping the trunk.

"Well, that simply won't do."

"What are you doing?" She recognized the stupidity in the question when a pair of blue eyes gave her the look as the heaviest boxes came free from the trunk, so she amended with a sigh. "Why are you doing this?"

"I thought that obvious," she walked to the door with Elena on her heels. "You can't lift these things. You'll send yourself into labour and have that baby right here in the driveway. I'm going to need an invitation."

Elena hesitated a beat, heart thumping, as she opened the door and stepped over the threshold. Her eyes flickered to the safety barrier between them, and she took a deep breath, willing herself to accept that the time of one vampire was over as she offered an official second invitation and directed her to the upstairs bedroom on the left.

Elena went back outside for some of the lighter bags, and if Rebekah weren't helping she might have rolled her eyes when wind rushed around her and she found the trunk empty.

Bonnie flipped through the pages of the grimoire idly, glancing at various diagrams and spells aimed at containment. Silas held the record for longest imprisonment at two-thousand plus years, but she lacked Qetsiyah's raw power; personally she thought the Bennett line had been punished for her ancestor's actions because not even Emily possessed the kind of strength to create and imprison two immortals.

Luckily, Kol wasn't asking her to deal with an immortal; he wanted her to take care of an insatiable witch spirit.

"I'm not well-versed in possession," she blew a lock of hair from her eyes, "why don't you just kill it?"

"To kill it you need to kill the host," he glanced up from the parchment in his hands. "In my opinion you and yours have spilled enough Mikaelson blood."

"It's not like you and Finn stayed dead." She cocked an eyebrow, flipping a page.

"Finn is permanently dead," he crinkled the parchment.

"Not by our hands," she held her palms out, demonstrating their cleanliness, "from what I understand that was someone else you Originals ticked off."

"Lucien," he tilted his head, "a servant who never could learn his position."

"Weren't you farmers?" The corner of her mouth lifted.

"Not the point." He reached for a red book, switching topics as he did. "And even if we did kill it, it could just come back again. It might be a week, or maybe a month or even a century, but it could return; next time it could start sacrificing again and grow even stronger."

"Then what do you propose we do?" She slammed her book closed. "She amassed power during her lifetime and after, storing all of the energy in her spirit. The only thing strong enough to contain her would be her own bones, but they would have to be turned against her."

"Funnily enough," he gave a humourless laugh, "that was my suggestion before we divided the Hollow's spirit, but we lacked a strong enough substance to bind it."

"Full moon not enough?" She crossed her arms.

"Think of it like the curse my mother placed on Niklaus," he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and meeting her eyes when she copied him, her sweet perfume tickled his nose. "She needed something strong enough to bind his nature, something that was already there that she could manipulate and turn back."

She played with the book's cover as she thought, turning over ideas in her mind slightly faster than the pages. A tight knot formed in her stomach; when she spoke she drew out her words.

"Well, what if we thought of it exactly like Klaus' curse?" His brows lowered, but he made no move to stop her halting speech. "If we had some sort of… vessel… infused with whatever remains of the witch's body then it could act as a prison." She pursed her lips, lapsing into a momentary silence.

"You still have to invert the power," he pointed out. "Turn her remains against her."

"I was getting there," she sighed. "Tatia's blood made you and cursed him, theoretically it's in every vampire, but that's another thing." She waved her hand. "Elena's blood broke that curse, partially, and made Hope possible; her blood is a really powerful binding agent. Would that work? It is an option you didn't have back then when she was in a coma."

"Her blood would work as long as the doppelgänger line endures," he nodded.

"Alright then," she clapped her hands together. "You find the remains and get Elena on board because I'm not gonna take her blood unless she's willing." She stood up and brushed her hands over her thighs.

"Why do I get the impossible task?" He groaned.

"The remains?" Bonnie guessed, tilting her head.

"Please," he scoffed, waving a hand, "that's easy. Elena will be impossible."

"I would start with telling her it's for Hope, and then advising Klaus to grovel."

"I have a question for you." Rebekah knelt on the floor amongst sorted pieces of wood and a mess of screws.

Elena peeked up through her lashes as she strung a pale seashell on the mobile.

"Do you expect me to answer it when you still haven't answered mine?" She finished off the mobile with a shimmering mermaid. "And if it's the distinct 'Little Mermaid' feel to everything then just know it was Caroline's idea and that the nautical theme has nothing to do with the Lake house."

"That's not it," she frowned, contemplating the hardware near her shoes. She selected the correct screw and lined up the holes, quickly assembling the base of the crib. "How far along are you?"

She placed the mobile on the dresser and picked up a quilted blanket, letting her fingers trace the outline of a mermaid's teal tail. She suspected the entire room would shimmer when it was done.

"Thirty-seven weeks," she used her stomach as a table, folding the blanket into a neat square.

"Thirty-seven weeks," she mused, affixing the front of the crib. "Why'd you wait so long to get a start on this room?"

"I had a start on it," Elena's protest sounded weak to her own ears. "The painting was done, and the dresser was… here."

"Elena," Rebekah cocked an eyebrow, putting the finishing touches on the crib.

"My procrastination drives Caroline crazy, and that brings me no shortage of joy." She knew Rebekah didn't fully believe her; she could see it in her shrewd blue eyes. "I'll answer your question when you answer mine and tell me what you're doing here."

"You know what I'm doing here."

"I have my suspicions about why you're being so nice, but I'd like to know for sure why you're buttering me up."

"What makes you think I'm buttering you up?" Rebekah stood, adjusting the height and slipping the mattress in place to get an idea of depth.

She had to admit her gratitude to the Original vampire who had put the crib together in less than twenty minutes; the task would have taken a minimum of two hours with her belly in the way.

"I haven't seen you in almost sixteen years, after I said some rude things to you at the Grille, and the first thing you do is set up my baby's room." The back of her scalp prickled. She watched the grip she used on the dresser for leverage as she stood.

How long was too long to wait for an apology?

Would the words have meaning anymore, or would they ruin the semi-cheery atmosphere in the room?

"You haven't called me a back-stabbing doppelbitch once," she attempted a smirk, but suspected her nerves showed in her eyes. "What gives?"

She stood on one side of the crib, guiding it with her hands while Rebekah shouldered the heavy lifting. They fit it in place so the wall art Caroline and Bonnie made from fishing nets and seashells sat centred above the grey wood. Her swollen fingers fumbled, attaching the mobile.

Rebekah shrugged and went about making up the crib.

"I didn't think you needed animosity after witnessing your driveway meltdown, and since you've clearly embraced your traveller heritage it's probably a bad idea for me to piss you off."

"I wouldn't say I've embraced it." Most magic she used consisted of garden variety telekinesis, not anxiety induced windstorms.

"You're clearly having a bad day, so we can get through one encounter without acting like bitches," she crossed her arms, bracing her hip against the crib. "What caused that?"

She held up one hand before Elena could answer. "And yes, I remember 'we're not friends', but you could use a person to talk to right now."

"I'm sorry," Elena blurted, watching the light catch on the mobile as her words cut through two decades of awkward silence. "For everything I did and said. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. We could have been good friends if I hadn't thrown the first punch."

Rebekah lowered her eyes; Elena's heart beat steadily above the fast flutter of the baby. Envy stabbed her, and she smiled around the pain she hoped would soon become a distant memory.

"Better late than never I suppose," she shrugged one shoulder and offered a small smile when Elena looked up. "Tell me about your anxiety, love, maybe talking about it will help."

She opened her mouth, ready to brush off what had happened and blame it on hormones, but Rebekah would never believe it; she didn't even believe it.

Her eyes flickered around the nursery, to the crib where her daughter would wake up everyday bathed in gentle morning sunlight, to the chair where she would rock her to sleep, and to the dresser where all of the clothes would go.

"Everything's just getting… real," she whispered, doing something she rarely did and laying both hands over her stomach. "I put all of this stuff off because when it was done I would have to admit that it's really happening. I'm going to have a baby, and I'm going to be a single mother. And it doesn't matter how big my support system is because it's still scary."

Rebekah nodded and bit the inside of her cheek. The true admission made sense, but she sensed there was something more to it, something Elena held back - maybe even from herself. She let her keep her peace and focused on what she could help with instead.

"For the first six months of Hope's life I was the only parent she had with no support system."

She hesitated a beat, curling her fingers and uncurling them before placing her palms over Elena's joined hands. Her earnest eyes met the shimmering brown with an encouraging smile.

"It's wonderful and terrifying, and absolutely nerve-wracking. You'll think you're going mad when she won't sleep through the night, and want to cry when you realize you've run out of clean nappies, but then she'll smile at you and you'll know that regardless of how badly you think you're screwing things up she loves you unconditionally anyway."

She resisted the urge to groan but couldn't keep from dropping her head forward and squeezing her eyes shut; nothing brought relief from the pain of black magic clinging to her. It rooted through her bones.

The rising moon promised more to come.

She wondered if it wouldn't be easier to take a lethal dose of hemlock and save herself from the agonizing death of a transformation she held no hope of surviving.

She burrowed into her blankets instead, forcing her muscles to relax. Tension lined her limbs despite the abundance of feather pillows surrounding her.

She thought of Connor's shattered windows and told herself that her lack of guilt came from the Hollow even through she knew nothing evil had influenced her actions at the car wash; the bully deserved worse than flash frozen glass.

Something involving broken bones and hemorrhaging wounds.

She shook away the murderous thoughts whispered by the darkness in her soul.

Things could have easily gone much worse.

Thankfully Connor had been out of eyesight during her lapse of judgement, and she would be dead before she saw him again.

You could go find him, a honeyed voice whispered.

"No," she mumbled, pressing her face into the pillow.

Teach him a real lesson.

A series of images, each more horrific than the last, flashed behind her eyes.

Make his blood boil…

"No," she grimaced, fighting down a sob.

Make him scream… make him bleed…

"No." Pressure built behind her burning eyes, tears stained her pillow.

Kill him! Sacrifice him and claim the energy.

She screamed, muffling the sound in purple velvet.

The heat in her bedroom grew stifling, blowing in a sputtering whirlwind. Paintings and pictures dislodged under the magical assault.

The soft lamp flickered and flared before exploding in a shower of glass and sparks.

"Hope?" The door opened.

Magic snapped back like a rubber band, making her body jolt.

She poked her head out, peeking between the throw blanket and her mess of pillows. She blinked, seeking some relief for her dry eyes, as he stepped over pictures and around the glass to perch on the side of her bed.

"You destroyed a boy's car," he plucked a piece of glass from her hair.

"Just his windows," she mumbled, shutting her eyes. "He had it coming."

"Careful sweetheart," he chuckled, swiping the moisture from the corner of her eyes, "you're starting to sound like me."

Before reading the accounts of her dad's exploits in Mystic Falls she wouldn't have minded being compared to him, but he was the villain. Yet somewhere deep inside her soul warmed at the words.

"How do you feel?" He felt her brow for any signs of fever.

"I'm tired," she sighed, "and I have a headache." Everything else hurt too, but that didn't need to be said.

"Freya made you something for the pain," he took a small vial from his pocket and shook out a white tablet, placing it in her palm as she sat up.

Hope eyed the pill and then the glass of water; bits of glass floated in the liquid, turning it into a deadly cocktail.

She swallowed the pill dry. Within seconds the tension in her body eased, replacing pain with dull aches.

"Better?" He cocked an eyebrow, handing the vial to Hope. "You can take another if the pain gets worse again."

She tilted it side to side.

"Can I take them all and spend my last hours in a pain free stupor?"

"Hope…"

"Joking," she tilted her head and held out her hands. "Mostly," her eyes dropped to the family picture on the floor.

"Well, I'm not," he held her shoulders, "these will not be your final hours."

"I've heard a lot of rumours since coming to school here," she looked up again, meeting his eyes, "but not one that said you were delusional."

"I've called him delusional for centuries, amongst other things."

Hope glanced beyond her dad's shoulder to focus on her uncle where he surveyed the mess of her dorm room from the safety of the open door, leaning in the frame with crossed arms and a tight smirk.

"However in this case he's not delusional." His gaze flickered towards Klaus. "How are your knees?"

"Why?" He frowned.

Kol pulled a blade, carved from bone, out of his jacket and turned it over between his fingers.

"Am I about to fall to them?" Klaus scowled, fury burned hot in his blood as he watched the knife he loathed.

"The knife is for Bonnie Bennett." He balanced the point on his finger. "We have a potential solution."

"Why do you say potential? What does the knife have to do with it? And why should I be worried about my knees?"

"The knife is to create a prison for the Hollow, and I say potential because there is a chance we can't pull this off."

The balloon of optimism and hope threatened to pop in his chest.

"To seal the Hollow away we need the willing support of Elena Gilbert." Amusement sparkled in his eyes. "I'm asking about your knees, Nik, because you're about to grovel on them."

He could practically see the needle as it popped his bubble.

Eighteen years had passed, give or take, since her last seance. She took extra precautions but still she recalled the process utilizing less power.

Of course, Emily had been hanging around; haunting and lying in wait for the inevitable summoning.

She cut herself a little slack.

Pulling a soul from an unknown afterlife was bound to be more difficult, especially when that soul proved reluctant, but she had the power of blood on her side.

So she tried again.

And again, until a form flickered.