Dark Side.
Chapter 2: Nodus Tollens. Part II.
Cassandra has just stepped out of the shower when her cellphone rings loudly, its screen lighting up white. She briefly glances at it and, at seeing who the caller is, promptly ignores it. She discards her dark blue towel on top of the neatly-made bed and turns to her armoire.
Returning to Mystic Falls was proving to be more disconcerting than she first thought it would. And she's only been here for a day. She hadn't expected Stefan and Damon to be here, though. She hadn't expected anyone who knew her to be here. Hell, she hadn't expected the tomb to be open, which is something she one-hundred percent believes to be true. After all, the comet passed, there are once more Bennett Witches in Mystic Falls, Damon is here, and she's pretty sure she saw Annabelle on her way back home. Or at least, someone who looked a lot like Annabelle.
This brings up a whole new bunch of issues she wants no connection with. A whole bunch of issues she wants Damon and Stefan to have no connection with. After changing into fresh underwear and a tank top with some black shorts, Cassandra picks the towel up from the bed again, ruffling it over her long, dripping-wet hair.
It is then, when she hears it: the footsteps outside. She sighs. She shouldn't be surprised, really, after all, Green Street is quite close to the Boarding House. They are not neighbors, but it's not far. And she wasn't exactly inconspicuous about moving here, either. She took the house she liked best—a two-story, white-wooden large Victorian-era inspired house, with tall windows that filtered natural light in, that was probably worth a lot more than what it cost—instead of holing herself in a tiny apartment nobody would think of twice. She isn't supposed to be hiding here. Of course, had she known they were here, she would have.
Cassandra hasn't had time to turn to the window yet, when someone slams against her, pinning her to the wall. Her eyes meet icy blue.
Damon Salvatore is pinning her to the wall, one hand around her neck, the other arm pressing across her chest. She thinks it would cause her some pain if it weren't because she's completely hypnotized. In the name of every circle of Hell, was he this electrifying when he was human? She thinks to herself, even if that's pretty much all her mind registers. That, and blue eyes. Bluer than it should be possible.
"Damon!" Stefan exclaims, almost chastises.
Neither his brother or Cassandra pay any mind to him. She's too busy looking at Damon. This is too much in too short a time. He's so beautiful, even now, when his brows are pulled down and his lip is in an almost snarl. She doesn't even care that the ferociousness of that look is directed at her, or the fact that Damon's attempting to harm her. She didn't remember his eyes being this blue, and after a century and a half of only seeing him from afar, memory became fuzzy, but seeing his eyes this close now, bordering the line between light, icy blue and almost silver, she finds that she cannot look away.
They keep quiet and time blurs around them. The longer they stare at each other, the faster she feels her mask crumble. Because she did something awful back then, and he probably hates her for it. Suddenly, Damon's thumb goes from the side of her neck to her chin, brushing against her lower lip. Slowly, his face begins to soften away from his vicious frown, but there's still a warning in his eyes.
Her dead heart is beating hard against her chest and she knows he can hear it. She hates this. It's not fair. She's held him so close to her heart all these years, like a secret that's only her own. She distanced herself from him, kept how much he truly meant hidden from the world. She would claim not to know him if asked, shrug him off as just one more meaningless name and face in a sea of names and faces. But now Damon is here, pinning her to the wall, his clear blue eyes shining with a threat she hopes he won't see through.
"You know…" Cassandra starts with a sultry smile and an intention she doesn't really mean. "Last time you looked at me like that," she pauses, inching her face closer to his. It's not that hard and soon her nose bumps against his. She wonders if she can just lean in and kiss him. "We ended up having sex against a garden statue." She whispers to him, unaware of Stefan's watchful, observant eyes on them.
Damon actually considers the insinuation for a minute. Sadly, his answer is to slam her against the wall once more, this time making her gasp out in pain. Dick, ungrateful dick. Cassandra sighs, disappointed, and pushes him away forcefully. Damon stumbles backwards, and she knows not falling down on his ass was a struggle. She is, after all, stronger.
"Why are you here?" Damon hisses at her, trying not to get lost in her green eyes just like he used to when he was human.
Because he isn't human, not anymore and if the human Damon did anything she asked him, the vampire Damon won't. He won't even be nice to her.
"God, you Salvatore brothers have got to find yourselves a new question," Cassandra says.
"Fine," Stefan agrees, arms still across his chest and overall looking the most threatening Cassandra has seen him in a long time. "Where have you been all these years?"
Ah, there it is. The question she's been waiting for. The thing is, she doesn't have an answer ready, despite knowing the question would come up eventually. She sends Stefan a flirty, conspiring smile, not genuine enough to make him believe she's actually serious.
"Maybe I was down there in the tomb." She's grasping for straws, desperate to know if the tomb's really been open or not. If it has, then she'd better tell Katherine. "In pain, cold, slowly starving to death." Cass taunts.
"You weren't in the tomb." Stefan shakes his head slowly.
"I wasn't?" she asks, pretending to be shocked. Her eyes jump from one brother to the other. "How would you know? You were probably too busy looking for Katherine to spot me." At this, she pouts adorably.
Stefan isn't even affected. Damn, tough audience.
"You weren't there." Damon scoffs, rolling his eyes with his entire head.
"What, you looked for me or something?" she laughs coldly, done with Stefan, and turning fully to him.
"Yes."
There's a beat of awkwardness. It probably surges from the sudden honesty in Damon's voice. Or the way his eyes do this weird thing that makes it look like he's retracting into his own mind. Separating himself from the outside. He never did that when he was human, Cassandra notices, back then he was completely transparent. Her eyes go back to Stefan, who is now looking at her with the same expression as Damon, his arms are no longer crossed, though. They look… lost.
"Why would you?" she asks slowly, eyebrows furrowed.
She compelled Jonathan Gilbert to brag about how he staked her through the heart months before the townspeople even thought of drinking and/or wearing vervain. It was her insurance, in a way. She always thought the idea of sticking everyone in a tomb was dangerous. Klaus could always find a witch powerful enough to undo the spell and stake them himself. She didn't want rumor getting out that she was alive, just slowly desiccating. No, she wanted the whole wide world to believe she was truly, really gone.
Damon just looks at her, quiet. She doesn't like it, so she turns back to the big armoire, pretending to look for a dress fit for tonight.
"You really have been roaming free all this time." Damon comments. She shrugs, not even turning away from the open closet. "And yet, you never found me?"
The underlying of his tone makes her pause. Because while he's talking casually, almost nonchalantly, she can hear the hurt underneath. She slowly turns back around, facing them. Stefan is looking down and she knows he's just as hurt, even though they're both incredibly mad at her.
"I didn't know where you were, Damon." She lies, not because she wants to, but because she must.
Damon flashes towards her, standing barely a foot away from her. She has to look up to maintain eye-contact.
"And I know you're lying, Cassie."
The use of such a stupid nickname makes her look down. How many times had she told him not to call her that? 'Do not call me that, Damon, please, or I'll call you Mr. Salvatore.' She'd say with pursed lips and amused eyes.
But there's nothing amusing here and she's not at all surprised when she looks up only to find that Damon isn't in the room anymore. She sighs and glares a Stefan, who had decided to stay behind.
"That went well," Stefan says carefully.
"What part? Where he wanted to kill me or when he got all upset?" she asks sarcastically.
"Damon doesn't get upset." Stefan denies.
They look at each other for a moment. Cassandra fights the urge to say Damon does get upset. She kept an eye on both vampires during the years, but she always did tend to pay more attention to the oldest one. And while the world believed Damon Salvatore to be nothing but ruthless and evil, she'd noticed more than once that grief clung to every part of him. If only she hadn't run away…
"Stefan," Cassandra says, finally dropping the act. For once, Stefan Salvatore sees her as she really is. It breaks his heart. "I am so sorry. I should have never left like that, but, please, believe me when I say: it was for a reason." She's near begging.
"Why are you here, Cassandra?" Stefan repeats, impassive.
"I'm here as a favor to an old friend." She shrugs, telling the truth.
"What does Katherine want with Mystic Falls?" Stefan asks.
Distrust seeps into his features once more. Cassandra sighs, pulling a strand of her still dripping wet hair behind her ear. She knows it'll be a while before Stefan can trust her again. But she wishes it wouldn't be. That neither of them would hate her, that neither of them would look at her with betrayal and cynicism reflected in their eyes, is what she wishes for the most. It's the main reason she never showed herself to them, even after she and Klaus sort of left things in good terms. If good is even the right word for it. She was always afraid of this, right here.
"I do have other friends aside from Katherine, you know?" Cassandra tries to lighten the mood, and it works, if Stefan's tiny smile is any given. He finally uncrosses his arms. "I really would like to be your friend, Stefan. I know it won't happen right away, but… I'm waving the white flag."
There's a beat, and then:
"Okay." The small smile on Stefan's face becomes slightly bigger. It's barely noticeable, but it's there, and Cassandra will take anything she can. "Listen, uh, about Elena…"
She blinks. Okay, that's definitely not what she was expecting his next question to be. What is it about Doppelgängers? Everyone is obsessed with them. If it's not Katherine, apparently it's Elena.
"Lovely girl," Cassandra says, rolling her eyes. "Looks exactly like Katherine, though. Doesn't it bug you, knowing you're banging a copy of your ex?" she taunts, sending Stefan a playful smirk.
"She's nothing like Katherine." Is Stefan's automatic response.
And she knows he's right, in a way. Katherine is manipulative and calculating. There's a strange naiveté to Elena that Katherine hasn't possessed since she was human. Elena seems… nice. But she doesn't really know her, and Stefan is in love with the girl, so she guesses his opinion might be biased. Still, just because Katherine and Elena aren't the same now, it doesn't mean they won't be the same later. They share blood, Petrova blood, and Petrovas tend to be the same; stubborn, head bent on getting everything they want.
"Hmm, if I didn't know better… I'd say Katherine was pretending to be human just for fun." Cassandra turns back to the armoire, done with this conversation and ready to find something to wear.
She couldn't give a flying shit about whether or not Elena and Katherine are the same, or whether or not Stefan is replacing Katherine with Elena. She doesn't know Elena and if Katherine was pretending to be human, Cassandra would know. Also, being with Stefan would probably finally unstuck the large stick up Katherine's ass. Her words are nothing but a big, tasty bait, and she hopes Stefan bites.
"If you didn't know better?" Stefan asks. Bingo, she thinks, turning back to him. "Cass, you need to tell Damon where Katherine is." His voice is accusing.
"Why would I do that?" Cassandra snorts. This is not what she wanted.
"You don't understand. Damon's been looking for her for—"
"The last one-hundred-and-forty-five years. His love for her is undying, blah, blah, blah." Cassandra rolls her eyes, flicking here hair over her shoulder. "Trust me, Stefan; I remember how toxic his feelings towards Katherine are." Cassandra assures him, deciding to go back to facing her closet so Stefan doesn't see how incredibly uncomfortable that request made her.
"So, will you let him know? At least, to make sure he leaves town." Stefan requests again.
"Don't you think you guys would have found Katherine by now?" Cassandra sighs, reaching out and grabbing a deep green dress. "If she wanted to be found, that is." She tilts her head to the side, studying the dress.
"Does that mean you know where she is?" Stefan asks.
Ah, there it is, the information she wanted. They really have no idea where Katherine is. Cassandra feels him take a step towards her and briefly wonders if that was a threat. She hums, not agreeing nor disagreeing. Turning on her heels, she walks to the large mirror by the window. This dress is not her favorite, especially since she secretly hates the color green. Stefan's eyes never leave her. She's starting to get exasperated with him. Sure, they may have agreed to attempt at friendship, but that doesn't mean she trusts him, just like he doesn't trust her. Does Stefan really think her so stupid as to expect her to give Katherine's location up?
"Is this thing still fancy?" Cassandra asks instead.
"Yeah." Stefan sighs, finally realizing he's not getting any answers from her. "See you, Cass." He nods at her before walking out of the room, this time using the door.
She doesn't answer.
The Founder's Hall looks as magnificent as ever, buzzing with light jazz music, lit up with fairy lights, and nearly overflowing with people. It's almost like the entire town is here, filling the house with delicious, warm humans. The Salvatore brothers stand by the main entrance, overlooking the gathering.
"I should not be here." Stefan mutters, almost to himself.
"Come on! Don't be a downer, it's a party for the founding families! That'd be us." Damon dismisses Stefan's worries. He subtly looks around, trying, and failing, to locate a certain redhead. He hopes she won't come, but he knows life has not been that kind to him in a long time. "It'd be rude to skip it."
Stefan shakes his head but answers back just as quickly. "I really liked you a whole lot better when you hated everyone."
"Oh, I still do." Damon shrugs. "I just love that they love me." He laughs, giving his little brother a playful glance. Stefan rolls his eyes but chuckles anyway. "How are you feeling?"
The amusement disappears from Stefan's face.
"I'm good. I'm fine."
They both know it's a lie, but neither are ready to treat this with the seriousness it deserves.
"No cravings? No urges?" Damon mocks. "That whiskey you've drinking all day doing its job?" Stefan laughs, looking away from his brother. Damon isn't ready to give it up. "We are who we are, Stefan. Nothing's gonna change that."
"Nothing would make you happier than to see me give in, right, Damon?" the younger Salvatore asks, eyes squinting slightly.
"It's inevitable." Damon shrugs.
"Yeah, but there's nothing a little bit of self-control can't do." A voice reaches them.
Both brothers turn to the left. Coming towards them in a beautiful, little black dress and incredibly high heels is Cassandra. Her heels are so high she's almost as tall as Damon. Damon doesn't think he's ever seen her this beautiful. He frowns.
"So, you did come." Damon whines in fake annoyance.
"Of course, I did!" Cassandra lets him know with almost the exact same fake tone. Stefan rolls his eyes, so not in the mood for the argument that's about to begin. "I'm hanging out with my friends. You clean up good, Stefan." She winks at him, easy-going.
"And you look beautiful, Cass." Stefan nods, meaning his compliment.
Cassandra smiles, showing two rows of perfectly straight pearly whites. It is true, though. Since she arrived, nobody had been able to tear their eyes away from her. She thinks it's a bit over the top; the thick layer of mascara currently in her eyelashes and the dark green eyeshadow make her eyes pop. The clear gloss makes her lips down-right kissable. She's not surprised so many half-drunk married men have tried to get her a drink.
"We're not your friends." Damon tells her harshly, ignoring Stefan's comment.
"I meant Elena, Matt and Caroline," Cassandra counts, talking about the two blond humans Elena had introduced her too recently in the evening. "My new friends." She snaps, rolling her eyes.
"I'm going to—um, find Elena," Stefan says as he walks away slowly.
"I'll join you; I do know when I'm not wanted." She adds, lifting an eyebrow Damon's way.
Walking towards where she last saw Elena, she notices Stefan stealing a drink but acts like she doesn't. If he says he's got it under control, then he does. No need to interfere, not yet.
Elena stands by the bar, overlooking the supposed dance floor. The floor is a lovely beige marble, with tulle adorning the windows and scattered cocktail tables. The fairy lights are here as well, going up, across and down the window frame. Usually, the dance floor would be filled with people. But the DJ is not very good and the occasion seems to be a bit too formal for dancing. So, she just stands there, looking at the small groups of people stood talking.
"Hey!" Stefan suddenly says, appearing next to her, Cassandra by his side.
"Hey!" Elena smiles back.
Without warning, Stefan swipes down and plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Elena smells the pungent smell of alcohol in his breath and is incredibly surprised. Stefan was usually so put together, he barely even drank. That is Damon's thing. Elena becomes even more uncomfortable and… embarrassed when she notices Cassandra's watchful stare on them. The redhead looks like she's just found out a secret badly kept.
"Are you drunk?" Elena asks Stefan, going straight for the punch.
Stefan doesn't even flinch. He just shrugs slightly, all in all looking like he doesn't care. The sight sets warning alarms off in Elena's mind. And Cassandra's, judging by the barely noticeable narrowing of her eyes.
"I know it's weird but it helps me." Stefan excuses.
"How?" Elena questions, tone disbelieving.
"Alcohol takes the edge off." Cassandra explains, her eyes turned on Stefan.
Elena can't help but think the oldest vampire is in the middle of remembering something. Whatever it is, it leaves her mind in a second, and when Cassandra turns to face her, the shifting behind her eyes has disappeared completely.
"How worried do I have to be?" Elena demands.
It's supposed to be aimed at Stefan, but it comes out as an open demand. Any of them can answer. Except Cassandra has turned to Stefan, waiting for the answer herself. So, Elena supposes this is a personal thing, each person deals with urges differently.
"Oh, no! You don't need to be worried. It's just until the cravings go away." Stefan denies. It sounds fake, put on. "Listen, I think we should enjoy it while it lasts."
Elena's eyebrows fly up in her forehead. Enjoy it while it lasts? She repeats in her mind. Unconsciously, her eyes turn to the redhead. Her face is in a grimace, like she knows just as well as Elena does that that was a terrible answer. Stefan doesn't notice.
"Would you like to dance with me?" he continues, unaware of the two women's skepticism.
"You hate dancing." Elena shakes her head, appalled. "I usually have to beg you."
Stefan doesn't even miss a beat.
"No, no. You have to beg sober me." Stefan assures her with a smile that seems twisted, even if Elena can't figure out why. "With drunk me, there's no begging necessary."
"Yeah, he's the one who does the begging." Cassandra breathes out, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Elena shoots her a look. She sighs. "Stefan, there's no one dancing."
Stefan turns to the dance floor, unbothered. Elena doesn't like this version of him, he seems… unpredictable, a wild card. After a moment, he turns back to the two women, a glint in his eye that makes Elena's stomach clench. He's like a whole new person.
"That's because they need something better to dance to." Stefan announces, already beginning to walk away. "I'll be right back."
The two women watch him go. Elena turns to Cassandra then, who is busy studying the back of Stefan's retreating form. She seems deep in thought, and Elena automatically knows this right here is not normal recovering behavior.
"Okay, how worried do I really have to be?" She asks.
"From one to ten… a seven, maybe eight." Cassandra sighs again, eyes finally leaving Stefan and finding Elena's brown ones. "I'll take care of it, okay?"
Just as she says this, the calm music changes to an upbeat pop song. Elena shakes her head, having trouble trusting the redhead's words. After all, she abandoned them when they needed her most. What could possibly make her believe she even knows the Salvatores? Around them, people stop talking and begin dancing, content. The obvious fun at the expense of mind control leaves Elena with a bitter taste in her mouth.
"How?" Elena nearly snaps, her negative emotions affecting the way she speaks. "Don't get me wrong but the last time you saw either of them, they were human. You knew they'd turn and yet you just left! Pretended to be dead." Elena shakes her head, a bitter laugh leaving her lips. "How can I trust you with something like this?"
Elena immediately regrets her words when she truly looks at the vampire stood beside her. Cassandra is looking at her, lips pressed into a thin line, green eyes blazing. She is the epitome of calm rage. There's a beat of silence. Elena can't help the sting of fear that hits her stomach. This woman is centuries old, a vampire, and Katherine's friend. She's dangerous, Elena reminds herself, no matter how nice she seems.
"That was different, Elena." Cassandra finally speaks. "I had no choice."
Elena is about to reply. After all, that sounds like a badly constructed excuse. But Damon reaches them unannounced, glass of bourbon in one hand, and the two girls get slightly distracted by it.
"Have I entered an alternate universe where Stefan is fun?" Damon asks, signaling at his little brother, who is currently dancing with Kelly Donovan. The scene almost makes Elena flinch.
"Not surprised to find out you're one of those people who takes twisted delight out of other's suffering." Cassandra comments, clearly having caught Damon's teasing undertone.
Elena is surprised by her boldness and hostility. Damon just shrugs, turning to her with a devilish smirk. The redhead seems to be able to read his mind, because before Damon can even open his mouth and spout out some rude, sarcastic remark, she rolls her eyes and says:
"Tonight has been a lovely evening so far, Damon. Don't ruin it."
Elena watches the exchange with absolute focus. There's something almost antonymous to their conversation. Cassandra is rash and cold, and Damon is mostly barely masked anger, but they're standing merely a foot apart, angled towards each other in what can only be described as comfort and familiarity.
"You see," Damon replies with a dishonest smile. "I don't usually follow a back-stabbing bitch's orders."
There's a beat of tenseness, in which Elena can't help but breathe in sharply. That was uncalled for. Sure, Cassandra did make a mistake by not telling them she was alive, but Elena can see the young woman cares about the two brothers. Surely, she must have avoided them for so long for a reason, right?
"You are all sunshine and flowers, aren't you?" Cassandra snaps back after a second too long, rolling her eyes.
Elena thinks her words are thought out, like she's being careful of not causing any real hurt, even if she said them within seconds of Damon's rebut. She watches as Damon levels cold blue eyes on the redhead, who seems completely unfazed. She simply raises an eyebrow, inviting, challenging. The whole thing has Elena hanging off the edge of her seat.
"Didn't you say you know when you're not wanted?" Damon asks, changing topic.
"Yes, I did." Cassandra furrows her lips, not breaking eye contact.
"What are you still doing here, then?" Damon fires back quickly, playful glint in his eye, sarcastic smirk well in place.
Cassandra tenses all over. It almost looks like she jumps a little. Her right hand twitches lightly and Elena wonders if maybe she wants to hit Damon. She doesn't, though. Instead, Cassandra shoots him a withering look before storming off, pushing Damon's shoulder forcefully.
"That was extremely rude, Damon." Elena scolds, shooting Damon a look of her own.
"I'm rude," Damon shrugs like he doesn't care. "And she deserved it."
Elena shakes her head, perfectly aware that this has more to do with his bruised ego than with the redhead's malice.
"No, she didn't." Elena points out, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising. "And you know it."
With that, Elena glances one last time at Stefan, who is still busy partying out in the dance floor, unaware of this conversation. Or maybe he's ignoring them. Saddened by the uncertainty of their situation, Elena sighs, wondering why she even thought tonight would be fun.
She is not upset. Or offended. Or angry. Cassandra knows it sounds like a lie, but leaning on the balcony overlooking the garden, she realizes it's true. There's a certain… calmness to this town that has her at ease. Stefan is willing to start fresh and Elena likes her enough to defend her. Matt, Elena's childhood friend and ex-boyfriend, is so handsome she could eat him whole. So, Damon hates her! Big deal!
She's rolling her eyes at the obvious knot in her chest that forms whenever Damon's animosity towards her enters her mind, when someone she despises joins her. She turns to her left, making eye-contact with no other that Jonathan Gilbert. The asshole is wearing a smug smirk as he looks at her.
"You must be surprised to see me." He comments, turning towards the garden, just as she was seconds before.
So, she copies him, and shrugs.
"You should know by now I'm surprised by very little." Cassandra's tone is cool and collected. Just like she wants it. "Is Isobel here with you? Or are you once more following her commands blindly like a lap-dog?"
John doesn't let his emotions show on his face, but she feels the slight tensing of his body. Too subtle for a human to notice, but just enough for a vampire to feel it. She smiles.
"Ah, so you're once more trampled on by the women in your life." She hums. "John, John, John, when will you learn?"
The feigned worry in her voice grants her a reaction. John twirls around in a single movement, his hand clamps down into her arm, hard. He's applying so much strength his arm quivers. It feels like a very annoying mosquito keeps slapping against her skin.
Cassandra stares up at him, bored. John glares at her, lips pressed firmly together in controlled rage. A moment passes. John's fingers loosen around her arm.
"Yeah, you rest that hand." Cassandra nods, cheerful. This is all very amusing. "Wouldn't want you pulling a muscle, now would we?"
"Be careful, Cassandra." John takes a step closer to her, invading her personal space. She pretends it doesn't bother her. "One wrong step and I'll add you to the list of vampires I am going to kill."
"Am I supposed to be scared?" she asks, back to bored.
He really can't expect her to tremble at the prospect of being on somebody's hit list, right? Especially a human's. She's been on many hit lists before, she still is, and she always ends up winning.
"Maybe not." John shrugs, taking a step back and allowing her more breathing room. Ugh, he's a nuisance. "But all the others should be—" she rolls her eyes at that. She couldn't give a shit about the tomb vampires. "Damon Salvatore, for example."
Cassandra sees the narrowing of his eyes, the way they seem to twinkle with malicious intent. The jerk is taunting her. In the span of a second, she realizes three things at the same time. One, Isobel's research on her is clearly more extensive than she ever thought it was. There's no way Isobel could know of her feelings unless she'd somehow taken ahold of their correspondence from the very short time Damon returned to the war. She'd been so transparent back then, it's a wonder Damon didn't notice. Two, maybe it was a good idea she came here. If John is truly here to rid Mystic Falls of vampires, and that includes the vampires closest to his niece, then she'll have to keep an eye out. Three, the reaction that would ensure John doubts the information he has regarding her feelings for Damon would ultimately ruin any chance of restoring said relationship, in the case that Damon is listening. Before the second is over, she's made her decision.
The laugh that leaves her lips is the most genuine John has ever heard coming from her. She knows this by the way he blinks, the way the shine seems to dim behind his eyes.
"Oh, John!" She shakes her head, laughter still in her voice and face. It takes hard work, but she hasn't survived this far by not working hard. "You go ahead and do that."
The words should have been a threat. A warning at the very least. But they're not. Actually, no, that's not true. They are. But they don't sound like one. And, thank the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, John buys it. His frown is almost unperceivable but it's there. Cassandra shakes her head at him once more, almost disappointed, before turning around and walking back into the buzzling room. She needs hard alcohol.
Just as she turns the corner, she is met with icy blue eyes. She halts on her step. Her heart stops. She can't breathe. Damon and Cassandra stare at each other in silence, features unreadable. She knows immediately that he heard, not everything, or else he wouldn't have let her catch him, but, surely, he heard the end of that damned conversation. Why else would he be looking at her like this?
She considers explaining. There is, after all, a perfect explanation for all this. She is protecting him. She's protecting Stefan. If he knew, he'd understand, she thinks. But the woods have eyes, the trees have ears. Cassandra doesn't risk it. She turns around, and walks away, fighting the urge to look back.
The only thing she knows for certain is this: she is going to enjoy killing Jonathan Gilbert.
Tonight turned out to be as awful as Damon expected it to be. Of course, he came here thinking his only problem would be the second most important woman from his past making a reappearance. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Standing at the back of the main room and nursing a much-needed drink, Damon watches his surroundings and considers his current situation. Little Gilbert seems to be catching onto the truth. The Council is oblivious, which would usually be great for him, if it weren't for the fact that he has a whole tomb of outdated vampires running around town. It's only a matter of time before Stefan loses it, which means the responsibility of them making it out of this mess lies solely on him.
Not to mention Cassandra is here and, he hates to admit, Stefan is right: she knows more that she lets on. Am I supposed to be scared? Her words filter through his mind. There was clear familiarity between her and John. But he doesn't know what that means or what to do with it. Oh, John! You go ahead and do that. He refuses to acknowledge that comment stung.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Damon grumbles.
Because walking towards the stage where the mayor is, is none other than Jonathan Gilbert. And he's looking pretty alive.
"What the fuck?"
The exclamation comes from his left and he doesn't need to turn around to know who said it. Cassandra is looking at John Gilbert with calm anger. It makes her terrifying. When her green eyes turn to him, Damon fights the urge to flinch.
"I am going to kill you!" she hisses, taking his arm and turning them swiftly away from the crowd. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" he rolls his eyes.
"Then how do you explain him being alive?" she says, eyebrows raised. Damon doesn't even question the fact that she knows John should be gathering flies by now. "Damon, please, tell me you didn't turn him into a vampire."
Before he can answer, the clear static of a microphone being turned on reaches their ears. The two of them turn back around to the front of the room. Mayor Lockwood gives the gathering crowd an appreciative look, accompanied by the politician smile he's perfected through decades. Cassandra lets out a small groan at the sight of the mayor. Damon doesn't think the two have met yet, but she dislikes him. Cassandra has always disliked the Lockwoods.
"Thank you all, thank you very much, thank you." Mayor Lockwood greets them all. "Thank you all for joining us tonight. In just a few moments we will officially begin the countdown to our upcoming Founders' Day celebration and it's a very special one this year. The one hundred and fiftieth birthday of our town."
Just as he says this, the old charter bell is rolled on a table until it stands next to Mayor Lockwood. People applaud. Damon fights the urge to roll his eyes. This town doesn't change.
"Wow, window to the past." Cassandra mutters just low enough for him to hear.
He feels a smirk beginning to form and forces his lips down. When the mayor invites John to the stage, so he can ring the charter bell, Damon catches sight of a possible explanation for John being alive.
"Come with me."
His words are more an order than a request, and when he places a hand on her elbow to steer her in the right direction, Cassandra doesn't protest. He ignores the way his skin tingles at the minimal touch of her skin and leads the way towards Alaric. Cassandra follows next to him, every once in a while glancing back at the makeshift stage. He knows she's keeping a close eye on John, even if she's not looking at him, and he wonders once more what's the relationship there.
"We protect each other." John is saying as they make their way through the crowd. Damon doesn't miss the way he sends Damon a sharp look. Neither does Cassandra. "It's good to be home."
They reach Alaric then and whatever remark was about to leave Cassandra dies on her lips and is replaced by confusion. Damon doesn't provide her with an explanation, he delves right into business.
"Look at his right hand."
Alaric turns to look at him. His eyes immediately zero in on the redhead beside Damon. He frowns, confused.
"Cassandra?" Ric asks, eyeing the pair with distrust. "What are you doing here?"
"You know my history teacher." Cassandra states slowly, trying to take this piece of information in.
"He's kind of the vampire slayer in town." Damon shrugs in response.
There are more important matters at hand than having these two properly introduced to each other. Cassandra has other ideas. She takes a minute step forward, her shoulder brushing against his, and examines Alaric closely with her eyes. When her eyes narrow a fraction, Alaric shifts in his stance.
"You are friends with the local vampire hunter." She deadpans, turning to look at him with one raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed.
Damon finds the fact that she sized Alaric up, made the calculations needed in her mind and didn't consider him a threat in the span of five seconds completely hilarious. He doesn't show it. Instead he shrugs and says:
"It's been a weird year."
"I believe you."
He realizes it's getting harder not to smile. Wasting no more time, he turns back to Alaric and nods towards the mayor.
"Look at the town's favorite son's hand." Ric still looks lost. "His ring."
Both Alaric and Cassandra turn to look at John, who is currently ringing the charter bell one last time. They both frown at the same time.
"It looks like mine." Alaric realizes after a moment.
"And it'd be a great coincidence if he hadn't come back from the dead five minutes ago." Damon hisses.
There's a beat of tense silence. Clearly whatever magic ring Alaric has is not exactly a one-in-a-lifetime kind of thing, which raises a lot of red flags. He can't have their possible enemies not dying.
"Fuck." Cassandra curses, breaking her staring contest with John Gilbert. She turns her fiery gaze towards Alaric, who now looks even more uncomfortable. "Let me see that."
She stretches out her hand, waiting. Alaric doesn't even move. Cassandra swiftly reaches forward and snatches the ring from Alaric's finger before he can even protest. Damon doesn't even stop her. The realization that flashes across her face quickly gets replaced by annoyance.
"Where did you get this?" she asks Alaric, lifting the ring up.
"Isobel gave it to me." Alaric explains.
"Isobel?" Cassandra repeats.
"My wife."
That seems to be enough for her now, because she goes quiet and just studies the ring closely. Damon doesn't miss the way Alaric seems to follow the motion with his eyes, probably worried Cassandra won't return the ring. Damon doesn't really care about that, because he's just come to a sudden realization. Another problem to add to his ever-growing list.
"Who gave birth to Elena, under the medical care of the esteemed Dr. Grayson Gilbert." Damon mutters angrily.
"John's brother." Cassandra shakes her head.
"You think John knew my wife?" Alaric asks Damon, looking towards John with newly found interest.
"Does it matter?" Cassandra asks rhetorically before Damon can respond in the positive.
In a way, she's right. John knowing Isobel doesn't fix their problem: Jonathan Gilbert just declared war on every single vampire in town. And that includes them. But Isobel could lead him to Katherine, who he still loves, no matter how mad at her he is.
"I'll take your silence as a yes, then." Cass comments after either man has spoken.
"Yeah." Alaric clears his throat, looking down for a second.
"Okay," she sighs. "Then we better talk somewhere private. It seems I have some catching up to do."
She begins to walk away, pausing next to Alaric and handing him his ring, paired with a wink. Alaric blinks but accepts the piece of jewelry without hesitance. Damon goes to protest. After all, he doesn't want her on his team. He's supposed to hate her.
"Don't you dare, Damon." Cassandra calls over her shoulder before he can even get the words out. "You're the one who roped me into this."
Alaric smiles at his expense before turning and following Cassandra out of the room. Damon frowns. This is not what he wanted.
This far she has learned plenty. Funny thing is, a very small fraction of her knowledge came from Damon and Alaric. The rest came from joining the dots together.
The tomb was opened by a Bonnie Bennett and her grandmother. The vampires wanted to make a home out of Mystic Falls like they had a century ago. Cassandra wanted to roll her eyes at that. The Founder's Council turned into a vampire-killing group soon after Damon and Stefan reached Mystic Falls. Pearl was running rampant, thinking herself the new Katherine Pierce.
And then, the rest of the puzzle pieces. The ones that made sense of the utter confusion she felt when she met Alaric Saltzman, Mystic Falls' very own Van Helsingr. Alaric had been married to Isobel, when she was still getting a PhD at Duke while working in the folklore department. She taught him everything she knew about vampires, including how to kill them. And, before she disappeared, she gave Alaric the ring. A ring that John also owns. A ring that Emily promised wouldn't work.
And now John is here, clearly following Isobel's orders, who, now that Cassandra really thinks about it, is probably following Katherine's orders. All this would literally mean nothing to her. After all, it doesn't affect her. And she would rip John apart before he can even touch Stefan and Damon. But, thanks to the two men currently beside her, she now knows Elena is Isobel's daughter. That, plus John's obvious obsession with Isobel, leads her to believe John isn't just Elena's uncle. He's also her father.
That just brings along a whole new bunch of issues. As they walk out of the building, neither man is aware of the troubling storm brewing in her mind. Her eyes jump to Damon. After all she did, it was all for nothing. Soon, he'll be into this mess just as deep as she is. John passes them by, unconcerned, and Damon takes the bait.
"Going somewhere?" he asks, nonchalant.
She inwardly sighs, preparing herself for whatever bomb John is so clearly about to drop. John halts on his step, making a show of being tired of this already. That makes two of them.
"I've never liked to be the last one to leave a party. It's too desperate." John shrugs, speaking slowly, like he owns the place. She watches him closely, ready to react if needed. When John turns to look at her, she meets his eyes square on, unflinching. "Are you going to kill me this time?" Cassandra doesn't give him the pleasure of getting an answer. "Or are you going to let Mr. Saltzman do your dirty work?"
Ah, bomb number one. She thinks, eyes automatically jumping to said Mr. Salzman. He looks baffled.
"Okay, you obviously know who I am." Alaric states, trying to recover.
"I do." John nods, smug. "Alaric Saltzman, a high school history teacher with a secret."
There's a beat of silence in which the three men before her size each other up. Damon takes a step forward.
"Sure know a lot for someone who just got to town." Damon taunts.
"More than you can imagine, Damon. My knowledge of this town goes beyond anything that you, or you, or the council knows." John smirks, looking at Damon and Alaric respectively. He doesn't look at her. "So, if you're planning on some clever high-speed snatch-ring-vamp-kill move, know that if I die, everything I know goes to the council." His eyes finally fall on her. "Including the fascinating little tale of the original Salvatore brothers, and their present day return to Mystic Falls." John warns Damon.
She looks at him. Damon seems speechless. John has clearly caught him off guard. Still, she can't help but scoff at the whole thing. This idiot just told them half of his plan. Sure, they don't know how he plans to get rid of the vampires yet, but now they know he plans to out them all.
"Something funny, Cassandra?" John asks her.
She can practically feel the sass oozing from his skin. Someone needs to stop this man. When Damon turns to her and basically tells her with his eyes not to open her mouth, she gets annoyed.
"This whole pretense is hilarious, if you ask me." She shrugs, turning back to John. "Do you really expect us to believe that with a snap of your dead fingers, the council will believe one of their most important members is a vampire?"
She allows a moment of silence. John doesn't answer but she can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
"Better yet." She goes on, taking a step closer to John. "That I would let that happen?"
She shouldn't have said that, she realizes the second the words leave her mouth. She's so mad, though, so mad at this ridiculous human being. So mad at Katherine for not telling her what she was getting into. So mad at Damon for not being willing to at least have a serious conversation. So mad at herself for not being prepared for any of this, that she doesn't even realize her words contradict her previous words on the balcony. Until she hears herself say them, at least.
"Maybe that will require harder work." John acquiesces. "What won't, is letting everyone know the truth about your past."
"You don't know anything about my past." She shakes her head.
He can't. Isobel knows nothing about her life before she arrived at Mystic Falls.
"Oh, but I do." John hums. Her confidence begins to falter. "And I know a couple of people who are dying to know where you are."
For the first time in forty years, Cassandra feels nothing but fear. This isn't happening. John can't know about Klaus or—or them. It's not possible. She basically erased herself from history. She'd change her name, dye her hair, anything to get the hounds off her back. And even when she was travelling and living with Katherine, she made sure everyone believed Katherine was the one with ties to Klaus. Not her.
"I don't believe you." Her voice doesn't come out as strong as it should have.
John notices the slight shaking of her voice. A wide smirk covers his features.
"Is that a risk you're willing to take?" he mocks her.
No. No, it's not. Not when Damon is in the same town as her. Not when the Doppelgänger is in the same town as her. Klaus would have a ball if he arrived now and saw how easy she made everything for him. So, she clears her throat and takes a step back, letting John know he wins without words. It's painfully embarrassing.
Satisfied, John begins to walk away again. The motion seems to snap Alaric and Damon of whatever daze they were in, because they move, too.
"How did you get that ring?" Alaric demands.
Cassandra watches as his hands do this weird twitch. Perhaps the man intended to physically stop John. She will never know, though, because John stops and turns around. The arrogance is oozing out of him like blood from a wound. It makes her skin crawl.
"I had inherited one, my brother Gray had the other. This was his," John lifts up his hand. "And I wouldn't have given mine to Isobel if I had known she'd hand it over to another guy." This comes out as a snarl, betraying John's real feelings. Usually, she would take a hold of that and never let it go, but tonight is different.
"So, you did know her?" Damon asks.
His tone is a fake kind of light, as if he's trying to show he had some idea of what is happening before entering this conversation.
"Who do you think sent her your way when she wanted to become a vampire?" John answers Damon's question with another. Except this one is a lie.
Cassandra should know. After all, she knows pretty well how obnoxious, over-excited, supernatural-obsessed Isobel Fleming found Damon Salvatore. Instead of correcting John, however, she remains quiet, watching intently. The light in Damon's eyes seems to dim the moment his brain processes John's words. The sight sends a stich of pain straight through her chest.
"You sent her?" Damon asks. His tone suggests he's unimpressed. Unbothered. Cass wishes it was true.
"Guilty." John smirks. Unfortunately, he noticed Damon's true feeling behind his mask: disappointment. "Why, did you think someone else send her? Maybe Katherine Pierce?"
"Judas!" Cassandra curses under her breath, just loud enough for the only other vampire present to hear her.
She turns around, ignoring Damon's searching gaze, before she can actually walk over and smack John in the head. This is reckless thinking on his part. On everyone's part. As she turns, she meets Alaric's eyes. The two share a look that's filled with an understanding she's surprised to find so early in her stay here. This man, this vampire-slayer, understands the tactless game the three of them accidentally stepped into better than most, maybe even better than Damon.
"How do you know about Katherine?" Damon asks.
She hears the almost protective warning tone behind his words and fights the urge to flinch. After one-hundred-and-forty-five years, Katherine's hold over Damon's heart is as strong as ever.
"How do I know anything, Damon?" John taunts.
Damon has a reply without a beat to miss. "What do you want?"
"So many questions." John shrugs. He looks towards Alaric and sends him an overly polite nod. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ric. I've heard so much about you."
She purses her lips. That was uncalled for. The poor man doesn't need a reminder of the fact that John is more than well acquainted with his wife.
"Cassandra, enchanting to see you again as always." He adds, sending her a smile not even a politician could apply. No, this is the kind of arrogant, superior smile reserved for royalty.
"Hope you get run over by a truck, John, with an ordinary human driver behind the wheel." She snaps, annoyed and disgusted.
She's suddenly so tired. She hasn't played games in too long. This isn't the kind of life she wanted when she decided to come back. It was supposed to be easy. Find the Bennett girl and teach her The Craft before she could move on. The only response she gets to her snarky remark is John's laughter ringing around them.
There is a beat of silence between them. She supposes Damon must be busy processing everything, and Alaric… well, Alaric should be freaking out. Any rational human would.
"What did he mean?" Damon suddenly asks, turning to her with a question all over his face. "What did he mean by telling everyone about your past?"
There is something about the way he says the word, like he doesn't believe it holds any significance. Like she could never under any circumstance have such an interesting history trailing behind her that it could be used as a threat. Like she doesn't hold any significance.
"That is none of your business," she replies coolly.
"Cassie." Damon protests, like she's the one being unreasonable.
"After all, you've made it perfectly clear that we're not friends."
With that she turns around and begins walking away at human speed, giving the man behind her the impression she is not leaving because she needs to, but because she wants to. Screw him. Screw Damon Salvatore. Screw John Gilbert. Screw Isobel Fleming for divulging her secrets. And screw Katherine Pierce for not fucking warning her about the mess she was about to walk into.
Yes, screw all of them.
UPDATED: 15/01/2020