A/N:

TRIGGER WARNING: there's a sex scene here. Nothing too graphic, I don't think, but continue with care.

Dark Side.

Chapter 5: Blood Brothers. Part I.

"You give me a reason.
Something to believe in.
You give me a meaning
Something I can breathe in.
I know, I know, I know.
It's a bittersweet feeling,
Longing and I'm leaving.
I go, I go, I go.
But I wish I was there with you.
Oh, I wish I was there with you."

—Homesick. Dua Lipa.

Mystic Falls, 1864.

Today had been exasperating. Pleasing but exasperating. Katherine had insisted on giving a dinner for Damon, who was to leave for war the next day. She had claimed it was for good luck, but Cass knew it was really just something to distract her. Katherine, after all, abhorred small towns. Mystic Falls was minute.

The reason Cass had found the pleasant evening so paradoxically unpleasant came in the form of one Mr. Giuseppe Salvatore. He had delightedly announced to every guest of the, put in his words, "astoundingly brilliant musical talent Miss Cassandra had." Every single person had requested a piece, declining would have been improper, so Cass had spent all evening sat by the piano, playing song after song. Had she not been a vampire, her nails would be bleeding. It was all the more vexing, knowing the only reason Giuseppe had given her such eloquently delivered flattery was so the townspeople would speak of his generosity, giving shelter to such beautiful, talented women.

Thankful to finally be by her lonesome, Cass unclasped her dress, shrugging off the heavy fabric until it fell to the floor around her feet. She moved to the window, grabbing a match, and lighting it in one smooth swoop. She lit every candle in the room, unknotting her skirts and corset as she went until she stood completely naked in the cool room.

Emily had left her recently cleaned nightclothes, neatly folded atop the perfectly-made bed. They still smelt like fresh lavender as she shrugged them on, enjoying the feel of the cotton against her legs and torso. While her dress had been gorgeous and fashionable, it had been too warm underneath the Virginian sun, too many layers for the humid air, which paired with the heat coming from the several candles around the drawing room, had had her wanting to rip off her clothing just so she could breathe. Why were corsets so tightly knotted anyways?

It took her fifteen minutes to gather all her clothes from the floor, ten more to put them away, and an extra twenty to undo her hairstyle. The intricate up-do filled with braids and curls and emerald incrusted hair combs had been tugging at her scalp until it felt like her hair was coming off. It was an absolute relief, taking it off. A glance at the clock unsurprisingly told her it was already twenty minutes past one in the morning.

She was ready to sleep, except that someone was knocking on her door. Someone who was very human. Cass cursed under her breath, walking over to the door, and already trying to come up with an excuse to decline whoever stood behind it. She grabbed her cream robe from the hook by the door and tied it on, a feeble attempt at looking more presentable.

"Damon?"

The oldest Salvatore brother looked… well, lost. She blinked at him, looking up to maintain eye contact. He gave her a small smile. One she found herself returning.

"May we confer, Miss Cassandra?" Damon asked her, hesitant.

"What did I say about the Miss?" she asked, subtly looking around the hallway.

It was deserted. There really would be no consequences to them having a late-night conversation. Damon let out a breath of laughter as he lowered his eyes. She nudged the door open all the way, giving him clear space to enter. As he entered her room, Cass noticed he too had dressed down, wearing only a loose-fitting white shirt, it's collar untied, and a pair of Peacoat blue trousers.

"Is everything all right, Damon?" she wondered aloud, watching as his eyes roamed around her room curiously.

"I wanted to apologize," Damon said, sitting down by the foot of the bed.

His words startled her. As far as Cass was concerned, he had done no wrong.

"Whatever for?" She joined him on the bed, painfully aware of her state of undress.

"What Katherine and you did—it was very touching." Damon started, a frown marring his features. "I think you would have enjoyed yourself, had it not been for my father."

Despite the clear bitterness present in his voice, something warm and cosy spread through her chest.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked.

"I did."

This time, the smile she was holding back spread into a wide one. Suddenly, the painful afternoon didn't seem so bad.

"Then, I did not mind the occasion as much," she told him honestly. "You don't need to apologize, anyway. Your father was the one who insisted I played all day long."

She looked at him then, saw the way something shifted in the blue of his eyes at the mention of his father. Cass had not witnessed any major abuse other than a certain clipped, enraged phrase here and there, but she was no fool. After so many years on this earth, she recognized the tell-tale signs of an abusive relationship.

"How are you preparing for tomorrow?" she asked, desperately trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"I may have drunk more than I should have." Damon admitted. Cass hummed, wholeheartedly agreeing. Damon did not seem intoxicated, but she could not think of any other reason why he'd be here. "Otherwise, I'm good."

Silence fell around them. Absently, she played with the lace of her sleeve.

"Cassie," Damon stopped mid-sentence, looking at her with an apology reflecting in his eyes.

She sent him a soft smile, barely there, as her fingers hesitantly reached out for his hand.

"You are returning to war in the morrow," she said. "You may call me whatever you want."

She had grown fond of the eldest Salvatore brother. So much so, that she was willing to allow him to call her Cassie. If it came from him, the name did not hurt. It didn't serve as a trigger to her past life. Damon stared at her, blue eyes widened, the side of his face showered in a warm orange hue from the lit candles in the room. He was very handsome. And very afraid. Worry tugged at her chest, and fear of her own pulled at her stomach. It surprised her. She'd known him for just two weeks, and she'd spent the better part of those teasing him. And still, she cared for him.

That didn't surprise her as much as what took place then: Damon's left hand rose up to meet her cheek, and his lips crashed down unto hers.

Cassandra did not react for a moment. She knew Damon coming into her room was already incredibly indecorous. Surely, he had not come in here with the intention of taking her to bed, though. They would not have maintained conversation for so long, were that to be the case. Yet, here he sat, moving his lips slowly against hers. Strangely enough, she found herself responding. Her hands moved from her lap to his chest, grabbing a fist of his shirt and bringing him closer. That seemed to be enough motivation for him, because the almost shy hesitance that had been etched to his persona vanished, replace by a want Cassandra couldn't help but reciprocate.

She rose to her knees, pulling at her nightgown until it gathered by her thighs. Then, she very swiftly turned one leg over his own, until both her knees were effectively on either side off his hips. Damon's hands went from her face to her hips, keeping them both balanced as he leaned forward, mouth hot against her neck. Once she was securely in his lap, his hands roamed from her hips up her back, tugging at her long red locks. The breath left her in shallowed pangs, the only sounds that reached her was the rushed pulsing of his blood running through his veins. The smell was almost intoxicating. She could, just, so easily, lean down and sink her teeth into the soft, exposed skin of his shoulder…

Cass broke away from him with a staggering gasp, pushing him away so hard that Damon fell to the bed on his back. She paid no mind to that, instead rushing to the window and opening it all the way as she took big breaths of the cool air. It wasn't working, however, as she could still hear his heart hammering inside his chest, all too tantalizing. Oh, Judas, she lamented, why had she not fed today? Or yesterday, for that matter.

"Cassie?"

"I'm all right." She assured him, trying to clear her thoughts.

She would not feed on her host's son. She wouldn't. She was so hungry right now, there was no guarantee of stopping herself. She could not kill Damon. Sweet, kind Damon, who made her laugh, who walked her to town even though she did not need chaperoning. She had vowed not to kill someone she cared for ever again. Finally, her fangs retracted, her eyes went back to normal. She cleared her throat and turned back around, ready to ask him to leave, except that the man had already risen to his feet and walked to her without her realizing it.

"I know what you are. Katherine told me." Damon explained, standing in front of her.

It wasn't an accusation. His voice was almost consoling, as if he were telling her not to apologize for what she'd almost done. It was strange.

"You are not afraid." She commented, looking at him with curiosity.

Damon shook his head. It occurred to her that maybe he was lying, and she found that she did not care. All it took was one small step towards him. His arm circled around her waist, pulling her against him. Her hands pulled hastily at his shirt, hoisting it up until Damon had no choice but to raise his arms so he could slip them out of the thin fabric. She threw the shirt to the side at the same time he pushed her robe off, letting it fall around their feet.

Before tonight, she had never thought undressing in front of someone could be this intimate. When she had been human, it'd been a chore. As a vampire, it felt liberating. Undressing in front of some handsome human man, who was more than willing to follow her to bed, meant satiating two hungers at once. Taking a vampire to bed, however, felt exciting and wild, anything was possible when both parties had supernatural senses. Stefan Salvatore, having been under compulsion courtesy of Katherine, had been more than willing to satiate her every desire. It'd been… almost boring.

Damon Salvatore, however, was everything but boring. The sweetness that he showed everyday was still there, in the way he brushed her hair back, kissed her lips, cautiously undid the lace of her nightgown. The sweetness took a step back when he realized this, him, was something she wanted. It wasn't long until her nightgown was a heap on the floor, joining his shirt and her robe. His finger mapped the way from her neck, stroke her left breast, until they reached her lower stomach, circling her hips. Her breath hitched.

She did not like the way he looked at her. With an admiration that should be reserved only for artistic masterpieces of the likes of the Sistine chapel. So, she rose on her tiptoes and captured his lips with hers, leading him back to the bed, fingers working on the buckle of his trousers. He kicked them off, twirling her around until her back hit the bed's poster. Cass broke the kiss then, knowing that, if she was beginning to feel the need to breathe, Damon must have been in desperate need of air. He pressed his forehead against hers, desperately trying to catch his breath.

She briefly wondered if he was here because Katherine had compelled him, too. If the reason she thought he was already better than Stefan, even if they had only kissed and looked, was because she inevitably cared for him. But she was certain Katherine had done nothing but openly flirt with him so far, kissed him once and left him waiting. Her friend was more interested in the youngest Salvatore. No, Damon was here out of his own volition. He would leave to war tomorrow, he could die. She, his friend, or at least she'd like to think she was his friend, presented as an excellent distraction.

Maintaining eye-contact, her hand pressed to his torso, slowly tracing the muscles in his stomach. Her other hand ran down his back. Cass felt the shiver that rocked him against her own skin. The hand on his stomach continued, lower and lower. When her hand wrapped around him, stroking him slowly, his breathing hitched, his eyes closed. Cass kissed him again, using the hand around his back to pull him closer to the point where their chests touched with every breath. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, and the quiet grunt that left him at the action made the heat between her legs intensify.

They laid with one another until the sun rose, exploring their bodies like a newly-discovered island. Damon was an excellent lover, capable of intuiting what she wanted without her even having to hint at it. It was intoxicating and surprising. She had known he was handsome from the moment they met, but she had not expected to desire him like this. Had not expected to become so enthralled by the way he reacted to her touch, or the way her name would slip from his lips like a prayer. Cassandra had never been fond of her own name, but when Damon uttered it, softly between kisses, with their bodies entwined in every way possible, it didn't sound so terrible.

She fell asleep in his arms, soothed by his thumb lazily rubbing at her shoulder. She trusted him completely, she startlingly realized, and when she woke to an empty right side of the bed, Cassandra pretended it didn't hurt.

Mystic Falls. Present Time.

"I did it!" Bonnie's excited voice snaps Cass out of her staring contest with the table's smooth surface.

She blinks, shaking the remnants of a memory from long ago out of her mind. If only she'd said no to him that day, she would probably not be in love with him now. That night had fucked her up. It forced her to cross the line from friendly fondness to obviously romantic feelings. The worst of it was, now that she looked back on it—all of it—Cassandra knows the reason he slept with her was because she was… well, painfully and embarrassingly willing. It had had nothing to do with him feeling something for her, and everything to do with her being beautiful and—God help her—interested, no matter how much she claimed she wasn't.

Cass turns to look at the clearly excited witch, who's too busy looking down at the big Mystic Falls map spread out across Cass's kitchen island to notice Cassandra spaced out a while ago. She glances down at the map as well and fights the urge to roll her eyes. She makes a note of teaching Bonnie how to read a map properly as well, because the locator spell failed tremendously, and the girl clearly has no clue as to where the Boarding House is.

"No, you didn't." Cass makes sure not to sigh or sound annoyed. "Try again."

Bonnie nods, picks up Elena's hairbrush, and closes her eyes. She's still eager, despite the fact that they've been doing the easiest locator spell Cassandra can come up with for near an hour now. Cass perfected that spell when she was seven years old.

Bonnie approached her during lunch. Well, it was more like Cass had been quietly waiting in line to pay for her lunch when suddenly the girl was next to her, all smiles and an innocent look in her face that let Cass know she was up to something. Obviously, Cass agreed to teach Bonnie magic. That was, after all, the main reason she'd come to Mystic Falls. She just didn't expect Bonnie to be so far behind.

"I did it!" Bonnie exclaims again, glancing at the map. "I—I did it, right?"

Cass doesn't even bother moving her head from her propped-up hand. She just glances down at the map, notices the brush is slightly closer to the Boarding House this time. But it's still nowhere near it should be.

"Bonnie, I know you're powerful. You wouldn't have been able to open the tomb, if you weren't. With or without your Grams' help." Cass shakes her head, straightening up in her seat. "What's going on?"

Bonnie blinks, but apart from that, says nothing, does nothing. After a moment, she looks down at the map again. Her index finger trails the brush's handle. Cass waits patiently. She knows perfectly well that if a witch doesn't have a serene mind, her magic becomes compromised.

"I think my friendship with Elena is falling apart." Bonnie confesses softly. "I'm not sure how I feel about siding with—" Bonnie suddenly stops talking and looks up, green eyes wide.

"People-eating vampires?" Cass finishes for her with a teasing smirk.

"Sorry." Bonnie grimaces. "But yes. I just want to be normal, you know? But I hang out with Caroline and she's too normal. Her problems seem, I don't know, like they're not as important as all the other things I know are going on." Bonnie rants off, hands holding on to her tense neck.

Cass nods. She wishes she could say she understands, but the truth is she never knew anything other than magic, and vampires, and other supernatural creatures. Sure, when she was in English Court, people didn't know about her family's secret. But, still, it wasn't an issue. Back then, magic was a simple part of her life, not something she was thrust into because of impeding peril. So, juggling magic lessons with taking the long trip down to Cornwall for the summer with other ladies and princesses wasn't that straining.

"What is it that bothers you?" Cass asks instead, getting the feeling the aforementioned juggling isn't what's truly getting underneath Bonnie's skin. "Is it the fact that you have to now deal with the supernatural as a constant part of your life? Or the fact that the people responsible for your Grams passing away are living life as if nothing happened?"

Bonnie sighs with her whole body, but it's the type of sigh that comes from desperately seeking control, not from exasperation. Cass briefly thinks she does not have the time for teen drama, before remembering that Bonnie probably doesn't have anyone to talk to freely. So, she waits patiently.

"Damon almost killed me, and no one did anything after," Bonnie says. Her eyes meet Cass's. "And the only reason my Grams and I had to open that tomb to begin with was because of him, and Anna. And, they didn't—I don't want to say pay for my Grams' dying." Bonnie rushes.

"But they're living life fine, and you've lost the most important person in your life." Cass finishes for her.

Bonnie mutely nods. While Cass doesn't exactly agree, she understands how Bonnie feels. Losing someone because of magic is always hard, but there tends to be a slight consolation if the reason said magic killed them was because of a greater cause. Losing someone to magic because of someone you hate? Someone you're afraid of? Cass imagines it must be a horrible, twisting burden.

"It should have been them." Bonnie claims in a sudden burst of confidence. Cass doesn't say anything, quietly looks at her. "Am I awful, for thinking that?" she frowns.

Cass turns her head, looks out the window to her backyard. It's not Bonnie's apparent thirst for revenge, or at least justice, that makes her uncomfortable. It's the fact that this is partially her fault. She should have told Damon and Stefan the truth a long time ago. Sheila Bennett would be alive and well now. Bonnie wouldn't resent her magic.

"You're not awful, Bonnie." Cass finally shakes her head. "You're just grieving."

"I just hate him. I hate him." Bonnie repeats fervently. "He's a selfish monster, and Stefan and Elena don't see it."

Bonnie speaks with a level of hatred that runs so deep it resembles burning passion. Cass can't help but be surprised. Sure, Damon isn't the easiest person to care about, but he tried to open the tomb to get the woman he loves out of a horrible, painful situation.

"The traits we hate in others, Bonnie, are usually the ones we dislike about ourselves the most."

Cass's words are more than just advice. They're a warning. Stefan might be just and rightful, and arguably out of the game at the moment, but he would never let anyone hurt his brother to an irreparable degree. Neither would she.

"So, what?" Bonnie scoffs softly. "I should send him an 'I-forgive-you-let's-be-friends' card?"

"God, no." Cass laughs, agreeing wholeheartedly with Bonnie that the idea is ridiculous. "You can dislike him as much as you want. Hate him even. Blame him for everything. But try and rise above it, don't blame your friends, don't isolate yourself. Learn and be better."

Bonnie looks at her for a minute. Cass can practically feel her thinking her words over in her mind. She hopes the witch won't turn on her now. Cass truly meant well. Bonnie needs her friends. They all need friends. A close-knitted, loyal group of friends is how you survive in this world.

"You're, like, weirdly wise." Bonnie chuckles.

"Right?" Cass teases lightly. Bonnie nods, laughing a bit more. Cass pretends she doesn't notice the laugh turn into small tears. "You want to go back to the spell?" Cass asks kindly.

"Yeah." Bonnie clears her throat.

Bonnie practices the locator spell five more times, until she finally gets it right and the tip of the brush's handle falls right above the spot in the map marking the Boarding House. Cass can't help but smile at the girl's obvious excitement over that. She sends Bonnie home after that, mostly because she has other things to do, but mostly because Bonnie looks more emotionally exhausted than any seventeen-year-old should ever look.

Cassandra doesn't really know what Damon and Alaric are trying to achieve here, and while she thinks it's a wild-goose chase, she can't deny she's filled with curiosity. Apparently, John Gilbert has been getting a lot of calls from a number registered under an address in Grove Hill. A lot of calls. Damon and Alaric seem to think the phone number is connected to Isobel. After all, the only form of contact they've had with said woman so far was a five-second phone call to a now-disconnected number between Elena and her estranged biological mother. And John and Isobel know each other fairly well.

She met with Damon at the Boarding House, like they had agreed, and together they drove off to pick up Alaric. It's tense and awkward. Alaric sits in the back seat so on guard, she's starting to think the only reason he voluntarily gave up the front seat was so he could stake her through the back. And Damon, Damon was quiet the whole fifteen minutes it took them to drive over to Alaric's. Now, now he's just bitter and sarcastic. It's getting on her nerves.

"Have you seen this before?" Damon asks her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ugly, spherical object. Without flourish, he throws it at her, carelessly.

She turns it over in her hands, follows the strange engraving in the front that is clearly only decorative. After all, she doesn't recognize the pattern as something with magical meaning. Her nail digs into the small crevice at the top. The front opens with a soft click. The inside is what appears to be mechanical wiring, sort of like the inside of a watch.

"I have never seen this in my life." Cassandra shakes her head, tracing the rings and screws with the pads of her fingers.

When her nail catches under one of the rings, she feels a soft spark travel throughout her hand, up her arm, until it settles warmly inside her chest.

"Interesting." She hums.

"What?" Alaric asks, speaking for the first time since he got in the car.

Cass glances back at him, moving the device in her hand so the passing streetlights catch it. It shines a pretty copper golden each time. Alaric scooches forward so he can look at it, clearly expecting to see physical proof of whatever caught Cass's attention. Even Damon seems to be glancing constantly from the road to the device and back again.

"You see this rim here?" she asks, brushing the edge of the device with her thumb. "It's completely mundane, so is the front face." She closes the device at the same time she arranges herself in a way that she can talk to both men comfortably. After that, she turns the device back up, showing Alaric the engraved front. "Sure, the engraving is lovely, and probably held some meaning to the original owner, but it's purely decorative. And, yet…" she trails off, flipping the device open again.

Alaric leans closer, examining it carefully.

"It resembles a clock." He frowns.

"A clock infused with magic." Cass adds, shooting Damon a glare when he takes a right turn harder that needed.

"Okay," Damon pipes in. "What for?"

"I haven't the slightest." She admits, jumping back on her seat so she's facing the right way. "I just know it looks like a pocket watch, but clearly isn't."

Damon glances at her before turning his attention back to the road. "Pocket watch? That's what Pearl thought it was, too. A vampire compass disguised as a pocket watch." He adds in a sing-song tone.

Cass frowns, turning back to the mysterious device in her hands. That's clearly not what it is. The vampire compass remained in Jonathan Gilbert's possession at all times. It was his most precious invention. Cass hated that stupid watch. Also, the inside of this thing looks nothing like a compass.

"Why would Pearl give you this?" Cass asks.

Pearl is proud and careful. She would never give Damon what could potentially serve as leverage. Beside her, Damon shrugs as he begins to pull up. Cass looks around. They're in the desolate side of Grove Hill. Old, banged-up houses line the left side of the street. The lawns are dried, the grass is half-dead. On the right side of the street, there's nothing but wild forest. She scrunches up her nose at the sight.

"John wants it." Damon explains, killing the ignition. "And Pearl is trying to wave a white flag."

Her answer is a simple hum. The three of them climb out of the car, quietly walking to the right house. Everything seems too quiet around them. The only thing she can hear is Alaric's breathing and his erratic heartbeat. Clearly, this means a whole lot more to him than he's letting on.

"You okay, Alaric?" she asks.

"Yeah, fine." Alaric clears his throat, avoiding her eyes.

Standing on the front porch, neither one of them makes a move. She takes a step closer to the white, wooden door, focusing on the inside. It's dead quiet.

"This is when it gets tricky, we might or might not be able to come in." Damon complains.

"How does that work, you have to be invited in all the time?" Alaric wonders, taking a step closer to the door as well and accidentally completing the perfect line they're now forming.

"By the owner, or person of entitlement. Hotels and short-terms are a grey area." Damon nods. "You kinda have to play it by ear."

"Can be a real pain in the ass." Cass adds with a little smirk. "Thankfully, most regular people aren't usually on vervain and can be easily compelled."

With that, she rises a fisted hand and knocks on the battered door twice. Seconds pass. No answer. Yeah, as she suspected, this little trip seems to be a complete waste of time already, and they aren't even past the door yet. Damon nudges her out of the way, walking forward and forcing the door open. The two of them glance in.

"Let's just," Alaric starts with a barely contained sigh. "Not kill anyone tonight, okay?"

It's more a resigned plea than a request. Cass scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"You mean, you just brought me along for my company?" Damon asks with a tone drenched in sarcasm.

Cass can't help but smile slightly at that. To her left, Alaric simply shakes his head. His clear annoyance amuses her even more than Damon's jest at his expense.

"After you, Mr. Saltzman." She tilts her head to the door.

Alaric chooses to ignore the teasing and does as told, taking an easy step into the house and looking around the seemingly empty hallway.

"It doesn't look like anyone's home." Alaric lets them know.

Cass and Damon share a look. She shrugs, taking a step forward and finding no resistance. Damon does the same. At that, they all part ways. She walks further into the house that's half-showered in shadows. It's pathetic at best. The little furniture there is, is worn and old. The wood boards creak each time Alaric takes a step. The wallpaper is faded, and some of it is cracking off, but she thinks it used to be a pretty shade of light blue. The deeper she gets into the small residence, the stronger the smell of humidity gets. One thing is for sure, Isobel isn't here. She would never live in a place like this.

"Uh, guys?" Damon's voice travels to her from somewhere to her right. "We have company."

His warning comes a little too late. He's not even finished talking when there's a commotion in another room to her left, where she knows Alaric is. She descends the stairs, quickly walking there. Alaric is fighting someone who is clearly a vampire. He pushes them away thanks to the sting his wood knuckles provide, but the vampire is quick to recover. Damon intervenes before she can walk up and kill the uninvited party.

"Boys, boys, that's enough." He admonishes them. "I know you." He points to the vampire.

Cass finally removes her attention from the oldest Salvatore brother and turns to look at the third vampire in the room. She fights the urge to gasp. Damon's not the only one who knows him.

"Henry?" she asks, taking a step further into the room.

Henry turns around immediately. When their eyes meet, he smiles widely. She returns it, even if she doesn't really mean it. Henry was lovely back in eighteen-sixty-four. Loyal, resourceful, smart. And he was a bit obsessed with her. Back then, it was incredibly convenient. But if he still feels that way now, he'll become annoying in the blink of an eye.

"Miss Cassandra!" he exclaims happily.

It takes him two steps to reach her and hug her. She's more than just surprised by that. She meets Damon's eyes over Henry's shoulder and widens her own as she hugs Henry back.

"How are you, Henry?" she asks, using the question as an excuse to end the undesired hug.

It's not that she doesn't like Henry. It's that she stopped caring, truly caring, about the tomb vampires a long, long time ago. Thankfully, she's still a good enough actress that Henry doesn't think anything's wrong.

"I can't believe you're here, Miss," Henry said instead. "I thought you were dead."

Something inside of her chest stings. She can't look away from Henry. She didn't think any of them would miss her. After seeing Katherine escape the tomb, she thought they would realize she was in on it, too, that she and Katherine had used them, sacrificed them. Behind them, Damon clears his throat. Time passes, and no one says anything. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead.

"So," Alaric breaks the tense air around them. "How do you know Cassandra, Henry?"

She opens her mouth to answer with a believable lie, but Henry unfortunately beats her to it.

"She turned me." He explains, turning to Alaric and Damon.

Cass grimaces. She won't hear the end of this now. When Henry glances back at her, she quickly changes her face to a small smile that drops the second he turns back to the other two men.

"What are you all doing here?" Henry wonders.

There isn't a single drop of doubt or suspicion in his voice, or his big brown eyes. Cass can't help but think that is perfect for them. Poor Henry will answer all their questions for old times' sake, and, if they play it right, he won't realize it's for their own ulterior motives.

UPDATED: 16/01/2020