Warning: Use of language in this chapter.
The Truth
"Here we are, home sweet home," Damon remarked dryly as all three cars pulled up to the Gilbert House, cramming in to the driveway like sardines in a too-small can. Elena couldn't imagine what the neighbours thought, perhaps that they were a circus troup or that one of them had come in to some money and had hired bodyguards. Elena supposed they kind of were, these three guys that would lay down their life for her, just as she would for them.
But right now, she only cared about the one glaring daggers at her, the one that had stared at her with such unimaginable hurt, who hadn't said a single word since they'd gotten off that damned mountain.
"Elena," Damon began as soon as Ric had opened the car door for her, but she moved past him in a blur, her destination the spot beside the vampire resting against the hood of his own dark car, arms crossed tightly over his chest, hair glinting sharply in the light from the full moon overhead, a figure of sharp lines and sharper angles...and a deeper vulnerability than anyone else would care to guess at.
"I'll be ready in a sec," Elena promised as she reached Elijah, his slow blink the only indicator that he'd heard her before she went up the porch steps and unlocked the front door, holding it open for the Original.
"Elena, we need to talk," Damon began once again, and Elena couldn't agree more, but she had more important matters to deal with, and right now, she felt Elijah deserved the truth more than he did; Damon hadn't been the one she'd lied to these past three weeks.
"Get in line," was her snappy reply before she slammed the door in his face. Elena allowed herself a single breath before swinging her attention back to Elijah, asking him in a hard voice, "Can the firing squad wait ten minutes while I take a shower? It'll give you time to formulate all the ways that you can tell me you're angry with me," Elena remarked as she stood in the alcove between the stairs and the living room, shifting her weight uneasily from foot to foot, something she'd have never expected to find herself doing in his presence.
"Of course," Elijah said with a minute dip of his chin. "It's not as if I have any pressing engagements for this evening."
"Okay."
When she reached the sanctity of her bedroom, she took great care in removing Elijah's jacket and draping it over the back of her desk chair before pulling a tank top and shorts from her drawers and setting them on the bed. She was in and out of the shower within moments, not wanting to spend too long under the spray with nothing but her tumultuous thoughts, and drying off her hair with a towel as she made her way back down the stairs, feeling raw and exposed under Elijah's penetrating gaze as he watched her descent.
Figuring she should be the one to make the first move, she said, quietly but firmly, "If you're mad at me, please just come out and say it. I don't like being left on tenterhooks like this."
"I don't even know where to start, Elskede. I don't think there are words for a betrayal of this magnitude."
She didn't want to get angry, she really didn't; it wouldn't solve anything. But it was her life, and she had a right to get angry when someone accused her in such a way as Elijah was now. "I kept one thing from you, Elijah! A secret that would have done you no good to know. Can't you see that? Can't you at least *try to see things from my perspective?" Elena implored him. When she was met with only stony silence, she felt the edges of her patience begin to fray like ripped jeans. "Why are you acting like this?"
"Because I know how your mind works, Elena," was his firm reply, eyes so dark they were almost black, a void of such deep desolation and desperation she found herself backing away. "When you told me of your plan to go after Stefan and Niklaus, I thought it ludicrous, and told you so," he began, his shoes setting a rapid clip as he paced in front of the couch. "But you're smart, so incredibly smart, and therefore what's more ludicrous was for me to go along with your explanation. If this had just been about finding Stefan, you would have taken Damon with you, correct? But you didn't. Because you never had any intention of coming back, did you?"
She tried hopelessly, "Elijah..."
He cut her off. "Did you, Elena? Where you or where you not going to reveal your secret to my brother and barter yourself for Stefan's freedom, knowing that my brother would place your value to his intended army above whatever usefulness he could garner from a Ripper?"
No use lying now. "Yes, I was! I was going to offer myself up to Klaus, again, so I could protect the man I love, again."
"And where you ever planning on telling me this?" Elijah continued, sounding so different from the person, the man, she'd grown to care so much about: it was as if they were strangers once again, as if he was a god looking down on an ant and judging it for it's simple existence. "If you hadn't received that call on your birthday, would you have let us continue on as we were until you likely disappeared in the middle of the night and left me in pieces?" He looked at her, sharply, and of course found the answer written all over her face. "No, you weren't. Of course you weren't. Because that's who you are, at your core. A selfish martyr who will give herself up so that she doesn't have to feel guilty anymore."
Elena threw her towel at the kitchen island, watching as it sailed through the air like a damp butterfly and collided against the counter with a wet smack. "You wanna talk guilt, Elijah? Okay, fine," she crossed her arms, shifting her wight into the fighting stance she'd seen the vampires in her life make so many times. "Should we talk about the fact that you still think your brother can be saved, about why you still fight so hard for his redemption, which is because you feel responsible for his behavior in the first place, or the fact that you stood by when your mother cursed his werewolf side dormant, or the abuse he suffered at the hands of your father? How is that any different?!"
"My pain is deserved, Elena," he growled, letting some of the predator run unchecked. "I betrayed my blood, my family, my best friend. I let a sweet boy who made us laugh and found joy in the beauty of the world around him become cruel and tormented and paranoid. I let him keep our eldest brother in a coffin for over nine hundred years without ever making a move to rescue him. I let Niklaus do that to all of us, including myself, because I convinced myself that the horror he put us through was but a fraction of what he had felt, growing up as he did. But you...you have nothing to atone for, nothing to fix or to lose yourself over. If Niklaus learns what you are to him...Elena, he will bleed you dry, and make me watch as he does so."
"Why?" she insisted. "Why would he care, Elijah?"
"You know why!"
"No, I don't. Why don't you spell it out for me?"
"I already have, Elskede. You just won't let yourself admit it; you're not ready. And I'm not ready to see you throw your life away for Stefan, or anyone."
"It is my choice, Elijah. It's my blood, my life, so it's my choice. Don't you believe in freedom? Haven't you encouraged me to make my own decisions? Just because you don't approve, you're suddenly changing your tune?" Elena scoffed disbelievingly. "That's really hypocritical."
"Look around you, Elena! You are loved; this house, this town, it's full to bursting with it. What you choose effects those around you, and I beg you to think of those that care about you, of Stefan. How do you imagine he'd feel if he found out that you were the reason he was released, that his freedom was bought with your suffering, your imprisonment?" he begged her, moving in a flash to cup the side of her face, and while every nerve, every instinct wanted her to lean in to that warn touch, she didn't give in, not even as Elijah murmured, "Niklas would never let you go, not ever. Your whole life here would be gone. Did you think of that?"
She nodded. "Yes, I did."
"And it didn't change your mind?"
"Would it change yours?"
He pulled away, bracing his hands on the armchair. "We're not discussing me."
"Well maybe we should be! Maybe we should be talking about the fact that we'd been apart less than a day, and yet with one phone call from Ric, you rush down here like I'm on death's door. Should we talk about that?"
Elijah straightened, firing back in am uncharacteristically petty move, "How about we discuss the fact that you let Damon Salvatore coddle you and dominate your choices because you feel something for him?"
"Of course I feel something for him!" Elena exploded. "He's one of my best friends, he's Stefan's brother, he's always been there when I needed him and I trust him! Why would you say that?" A thought hit her over the head like a bowling ball. "Wait, are you jealous?" Elena asked incredulously. "Of Damon?"
"Elena, I am jealous of everyone in your life, everyone who's got to see your smile, to watch you grow up and be happy, to know you when you were not so unbelievably sad, those who have been there for you every day for the past seventeen years, while all I had with you, all I will ever be allowed to have with you, is those three weeks. I'm jealous of those you care about, because I know I am not among them."
Oh, God, how could he think that? How could he possibly think that? "Elijah, I care about you. I do. I always have."
"Then why did you do this, Elena?" he whispered to her brokenly, voice raspy with unshed tears. "Do you have any idea what's been going through my mind these past few hours, the ideas and possibilities I've had to play out? Say if you'd never found me, and you'd given yourself over to my brother, and I'd have to watch as he drained you, as you wasted away before my eyes, and I would be powerless to stop it? Or the thought that I never would have had this time with you, that I would never of had the privilege to feel the warmth of your smile, to learn how you take your coffee in the morning and how you love the rain yet hate getting wet, the joy you find in the little things as I do...it fills me with such fear that I feel as if i might drop dead from it, Original vampire or not."
"I know, Elijah. I don't like this any more than you do, I didn't ask to be at the centre of things again, but that's how it happened, and there's nothing you or I can do to change it."
"I begged a differ," he argued temperamentally. "No one can make these decisions for you, Elena: you are always the one to set your feet on this path."
"Because I don't know what else to do, Elijah! Because that seems to be the only way to get people to listen to me and take me seriously. Even you. You were the one that wanted me to willingly sacrifice myself, remember? I had to stab myself just to get you to promise you wouldn't go after Damon when he tried to dagger you."
"Luckily, he had you to carry out the task for him," Elijah commented dryly, and for a moment Elena was stunned into silence before blurting out, "God, will you stop being such a heartless douchebag?"
"I apologize; I guess callous martyrs bring out the worst in me." Elijah sighed, slumping against the wall by the stairs. "Are you even sorry?" he asked her, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.
"What?"
"Are you even sorry, Elena? About keeping this secret from me? Are you even sorry?"
Elena thought about the last three weeks, how incredible they'd been, how even though they'd been tracking Klaus and Stefan, it had still been their time, their little bubble of happiness. Then she thought about the weight of the secret she'd been carrying, how it would have hung over them, storm clouds coalescing on the surface of their beautiful calm, how by the end, Elijah would have likely holed her up somewhere in Europe and never left her leave in fear of his brother getting to her. So she said, "No, I'm not sorry."
"Then I guess there is nothing else left to say."
"Isn't it rude to eavesdrop?" Ric inquired to his best friend as they sat side by side on the Gilbert porch swing, Damon knocking his long legs into the railing with every other swing.
"Since when do I care about being rude?" the vampire snorted lightly. "Come on, don't tell me you're not dying to know what they're saying to each other."
Ric shrugged, seemingly nonplussed. "I don't care, so long as he doesn't hurt her."
"Believe me, Ric, I don't think you have to worry about that," Damon said, an undercurrent of something Alaric couldn't quite place lurking under his words. "Elijah Mikaelson is the one that's gonna come out of this go around in the Elena Ring hurt, not her."
"How can you tell?" He craned his neck so he could better see Damon's expression as the guy shrugged innocently, as if the simple action could undo the weight of his next words of, "He looks how I feel."
The front door burst open, revealing a vacant-looking Elijah and a fiery Elena.
"Elijah! Elijah, come back here, we're not done talking about this!" she yelled at him as he made his way down the stairs with measured steps, and Ric could see how every step away from her he took was breaking poor Elena's heart. What an idiot.
"I have nothing further I wish to say to you. Goodnight, Miss Gilbert," Elijah called out perfunctorily as he reached into his pocket, car keys catching the light, shining like so many sharp teeth.
"Elijah, don't be a coward! Come back and finish this!" When that didn't work, Elena dashed inside and picked up the dish they kept for spare change -at least it was empty- and threw it at the vampire's retreating back, missing the back of his head by a hair's breadth. "Elijah!"
The Original didn't stop, although Alaric caught what he thought was the glint of unshed tears in the vampire's eyes as he got into his car. But Elena had not such qualms about hiding how she felt, and Ric could hear her crying brokenly from the front porch a few feet away, and he hadn't heard her cry like that since the day they buried Jenna, and it ignited a burning in his chest that sent him flying off the porch swing, down the steps and charging at Elijah, swinging his fist at the man's jaw, colliding with a satisfying crunch of bone. It didn't really hurt the vampire, of course, but it sure made Ric feel a little better, as did the sight of Elijah's head swinging about like one of those desk toy bobble heads.
"No one hurts my daughter and gets away with it," he fumed thunderously as he shook out his hand, knuckles already turning shades of crimson and violet. He made his way back to Elena, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Damon on her other side, and the two helped her to the couch as she collapsed, burying her head in Ric's chest, each of her sobs like a knife cutting up his insides.
Only love can hurt us like this.
After she'd calmed down, Elena sat snuggled up in a blanket, her feet in Damon's lap and her head still in Ric's chest, cradling a cup of tea in her hands, chilled despite the humidity of the summer night.
"It's been a long day" Damon said gently, blue eyes wide with concern. "You don't have to do this right now, Elena. It can wait until tomorrow."
She shifted, reaching out to place her mug on the coffee table. "No, it can't. You guys deserve to know the truth." She turned to her guardian, her dad in everything but blood, and added sadly, "Especially you, Ric."
He squeezed her hand, his face painted in streaks of heavy grey and black, the colours of loss and pain, things they all had been though, and felt still, and yet tried to hide.
"Okay, here's what you need to know."
Elena wakes up, and she knows exactly where she is, bit everything feels wrong, ephemeral and floaty, like walking through cobwebs or that moment of breathlessness when you fall asleep with the covers over your face and for a moment you don't know what's happening. The light had a perculiar colour to it, a strange blue tinge, reminding her of when she'd seen her parent's bodies after the accident, how pale and lifeless they looked. That light was the absence of warmth, of hope, of living things. It was the colour of death, and it told Elena exactly where she was.
The Other Side.
So, this is what a supernatural limbo looks like, she thinks as she gets up from the divan in the parlour of the abandoned house Bonnie's been using lately, finding that she's not as tired as she'd thought she'd be. There's a wound on her neck, dried blood crusting it, but it doesn't hurt, so she doesn't pay it much mind. How can she, when her dead aunt is standing right in front of her?
"Jenna?" Elena calls out, half afraid she's not real, and entirely afraid that if she is, she won't hear her. But she does, and soon her aunt is smiling, holding her arms out to her like she has a thousand times before, and Elena's racing into them, clinging tightly like there's nothing more important in the world than holding on to her. "Oh my God, Jenna, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I let this happen to you. This is all my fault."
"Hey, it's not your fault," her aunt assures her, brushing the hair away from her face with gentle fingers. She'd always worried so much about not being a good parent, but right now, Elena feels like no one else would be able to calm her, not even her parents; they'd died peacefully. Jenna and her died in rings of fire, drained by a monster like in a fairytale, only there was nothing fair about this, any of it.
"I don't have much time," Jenna warns her, "you'll be going back soon, but there's things you need to know, Elena. You're not supposed to, but I couldn't let you go without giving you an advantage. You'll need the upper hand for what's to come next."
"What? Why? What's so important?"
"You, kiddo," she answers grimly. "As always, you're the most important person in all this. You're the key."
"I don't understand," Elena shakes her head. "The key for what, Jenna?"
"Not for, to. You're the key to making Hybrids, Elena. Klaus needs your blood if he wants to make more creatures like him. I'm so sorry to put this all on you, but I love you and won't leave you in the dark, not about this, not if knowing this will keep you safe." She reached out, pulling Elena into her chest, murmuring into the crown of her head, "When you go back, I don't want you to worry about me, okay? I'll be alright, so long as I know you're okay, that you're staying strong. You've always been so strong, Elena, stronger than I ever could have been. I'm so sorry to leave you and Jeremy, but I have to trust that everything will work out for you guys. Tell Ric that I love him, okay, and that I want him to be happy, not to carry his guilt around like he did for Isobel. You're gonna get through this, alright."
Jenna took a step back, fixing Elena with a proud smile. "And do you wanna know why? Because you're a Gilbert, and Gilbert's can get through anything, so long as we don't lose sight of who we are and what we believe in. Hold on, Elena. Hold on to that little girl I got to watch grow up into the amazing woman you are now, who I'm so proud of, just like your mom and dad are. I love you."
"I love you, too, Jenna," Elena smiles through her tears as she feels her aunt slipping away once again. "So much. I promise I'll do my best to keep our family together, and after everything you've done for me and Jer, you deserve to find peace."
As soon as the words left her mouth, the ghost of Jenna Sommers was gone.
Damon had always liked Jenna. If he could have taken her place in the ritual, he would have in a heartbeat, without question. Considering the fact that his own family had been held together with fine string long before Stefan and he ever became vampires, he'd always admired her commitment to Elena and Jeremy...and she's just been a really cool person to hang out with.
It was a rare thing when a human liked him, so he always took note when they did.
Hearing how she'd come to Elena while she was dead, how she'd somehow gotten this information -likely at great cost to herself, even if she had been a ghost- and given Elena a fighting chance against Klaus...he didn't take any of that lightly. His only wish was that Elena use it for something other than getting herself killed, or worse, made into Klaus' personal blood bag.
"I'm gonna go check in on Jeremy, let him know what's going on," Alaric said as he stood from the couch, giving Damon a hard nod the vampire interpreted as, 'For the love of God, take care of her, and don't upset her any more than she has been already tonight,' before dropping a kiss on Elena's head and shuffling his way tiredly to the stairs. Elena pivoted so that she could look up at him from her section of the couch, face still glimmering with fresh tear tracks, standing out like scars on her pale face. She was exhausted, but still the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, certainly above Katherine; everything about Elena, right here, right now, was real, even her feelings for two guys who obviously weren't him.
"I was wrong," Damon admitted, shifting into his back, one arm hanging limply behind the couch.
"Wrong about what?" Elena frowned, tilting her head to the side, her lazy ponytail slipping over a shoulder.
"About Stefan," he clarified, unsurprised when she jolted upright in a sudden display of energy, almost knocking her blanket to the floor.
"Did you see him? Is he okay?"
Damon rolled his eyes at her. "Of course he's not okay, Elena, he's an insufferable martyr who needs his ass kicked...but he can be saved."
Elena bit her bottom lip, worrying the pink flesh between her teeth in a move that was far too adorable to be legal. "What happened out there? What changed your mind?"
"Because it appears that even in his darkest moment, my brother won't let me die. So i figure I owe him the same in return," the vampire offered by way of explanation, soon relenting, "I'll help you get him back, Elena. But, I want to know one thing: what changed your mind? You were so hell-bent on staying up that mountain, and then you just gave up."
"We were under attack, Damon," she insisted tiredly. "It was too dangerous."
"You had a bag full of weapons, a teacher with an eternity ring, plus an Original vampire who we all know would move said mountains for the mere possibility of seeing you smile; you could have kept going," he pressed on. "What changed your mind, Elena?"
Elena sighed, kicking her feet up so that they rested on the arm of the couch, her head on his bent arm. "You did. You, and Elijah. I've already seen you nearly die after getting bitten, and I never want to repeat that. As for Elijah, I know the whole reason his family was turned in the first place was to protect them from werewolves, but I didn't want to take the risk and find out. I care, okay? I care about both of you."
"Somehow, I don't think you're wanting to eat my face off quite like you do with Elijah, which is totally your loss, or gave have forgotten our romance so swiftly, scuppered by the burning of an Original flame?" Damon was very proud of himself: he kept his resentment and distain to a healthy ninety eight point six percent rather than a whole even hundred. Go him!
"Was that a Bangles reference?" Elena arched a brow. "Yes, it's different. But I love Stefan, Damon: I would never do anything to hurt that, or him."
"Do and want are two very different kettle of fish, Elena," Damon pointed out to her ruthlessly. "If you really care about him as much as you claim to, something's gonna happen, and if it does, I don't want you to beat yourself up about it."
"Why? I thought you'd be dragging me to the opposite end of the country by now." She twirled the hem of her top between her fingers as she admitted, "I think I saw him, right before we pulled away. Which means he knew we were there, and I'm guessing you didn't tell him, and that means he heard us, heard Elijah, and I can't imagine that Stefan didn't have something to say on the matter."
"He did," Damon conceded with a small frown, "but Stefan doesn't get it, not like I do. Because I've been where Elijah is right now: I know what it's like to lo-care about you and not be able to do anything about it. Stefan's never had to do that, not even with Katherine, since she was all about him."
Elena picked up on his slip immediately. "Elijah doesn't love me, Damon. He can't."
"Trust me, us vamps fall for you pretty quickly. Must be your pretty doe eyes, or the fact that you take none of our shit, either or."
"Well even if he did, you know, feel some small shred of regard for me, and I,possibly, felt something towards him, it doesn't matter now; he said it himself, he wants nothing to do with me."
"Are people suddenly not allowed to change their minds now?" Damon snarked ruefully, then let out a long sigh he could almost see. "He's angry, Elena. I'm sure he'll realize his monumental mistake eventually."
"And if he doesn't?" Elena persisted stubbornly. "He's been mad at his brother for decades, Damon. Elijah's not the kinda guy to go to yoga and drink tea and ruminate on the mechanics of life and the importance of free will. I've betrayed him one too many times, and this time I think it's gonna stick."
His reply was remarkably straightforward. "Then you don't give up. You're not one to let your friends go without a fight; that isn't anything new."
"Why are you so okay with this?" she asked him with no small amount of confusion. "I thought you'd have made a PowerPoint presentation on all the reasons why I should stay far away from him, complete with curtain transitions and flashy bullet points."
"I'm not okay, Elena, none of us are. But I'm trying to give you the support you need because, at the end of all this, you deserve to be happy. Not Stefan, certainly not me, but you. It's been a hundred and fifty years since I had to take care of somebody, and being here with your brother and Ric, it made me miss the little things about being human, stuff I didn't get a year ago because I was so wrapped up in my supposed 'love' for Katherine. When I fed you my blood...it was wrong. Those actions may have stemmed from the need to keep you alive, which is always a good thing, but I took away your choice. I would have been cutting you off from so much, myself included. If you'd transitioned and had to face Jenna and Uncle John being gone, then Stefan leaving with Klaus, you could have flipped the switch. And if you had...God, I can't think of anything worse than seeing you without your spark, Elena."
She smiled, the first one of the night. "He likes my spark."
Damon gaped at her.
"Sorry, Howl's Moving Castle movie reference. I think you're right, Damon. About all of it. You're get where I'm coming from, don't you? I know you'd do the same for him, without question."
"Of course, and you'd try to stop me."
"Of course," she nodded sagely. "And you'll try and stop me, won't you?"
"Of course. If little Gizmo gets water on him, I can't see how more of him are going to do the works any good."
"I was kind of hoping to save that as tomorrow's problem," she said with a remorseful groan. "A girls gotta have something to look forward to."
"Then up you get, Missy: you can't sleep on this couch, it'll ruin your back, or so Alaric's been telling me all summer."
She batted his hands away. "I'm too tired."
"Want a piggy back ride? Or, better yet, I do a mean fireman's carry."
"Yeah, I remember that from Founder's Day," she reminisced around a jaw-breaking yawn before mumbling sleepily, "You were quite the hero."
"Must have been all the smoke inhalation," he mused sarcastically as he stopped her into his arms and turned off the light, plunging them into darkness as he carried her up to her room and set her down on the bed. Lifting the covers up over her, he looked down when he felt a tug on his wrist.
Damon smiled. "What's wrong, pretty girl?"
"I just wanted to thank you before I fell asleep. Thank you, for coming after me, for being so good to me about all of this. I know we've had our ups and downs in the past, but I want you to know how much I appreciate all that you do, for me, and for everyone. I know you think I would have liked you more when you were human, but I stand by what I said: I like who you are now, Damon, the person you're stepping up to be, the good you try so hard to hide. I wouldn't ever ask you to change -because let's face it, you wouldn't listen- but I don't think there's anything wrong with evolving into a better person."
"Remember that when I drag my brother from the edge and deliver him back to you, would you? I have a feeling that will get forgotten about once our Fearless Ferret-Eater returns home from the Klaustastrophe that has been this summer."
She shook her head as if the idea were as ludicrous as talking pink elephants or a kid picking Brussel Sprouts over ice cream. "I won't forget. I never forget anything important."
Oh, Elena, Damon thought bitterly as he closed the bedroom door on her sleeping form, if only that were true.
Bill wasn't returning any of her calls.
Tyler had been asleep in his room ever since they'd made it back to the house. Carol didn't know how long he usually slept for or if it was even normal -although she did recall that Mason had always been one to sleep in, but she'd always attributed that to his carefree and somewhat lazy lifetysle- and as a mother, she'd never felt more helpless. This wasn't like when he has been a boy and was sick, when she could make him soup and read him bedtime stories to make him feel better. She'd watched evey bone in his body break; how could she make that better? And the thought of him going through that every month, for the rest of his life...
God, why had Richard never told her? Why hadn't he prepared her? Although, as she stared at the picture of Tyler she always kept on her desk, Carol didn't think anything her late husband could have said or did would have prepared her for seeing her child in such pain. Just then, she heard a thud come from Tyler's room, then the sound of the shower coming on. Getting up from her desk, Carol made her way to the kitchen, eyeing the fridge and counter appliances. She wasn't much of a cook -they had professional chefs and caterers for almost everything- but she didn't believe herself entirely incapable of looking after her own damn child.
Half an hour later, Tyler was walking into the kitchen with damp hair while she put the finishing touches on a plate of bagels. "I didn't know how hungry you'd be," she explained at the sight if his wide-eyed expression, "so I thought I'd start with something small."
He smiled, moving across the kitchen island to kiss her on the cheek and put his arm around her shoulders. "Thanks, Mom. Turning really takes it out of me, and last time I felt better when I had something with some sugar in."
"Well, there's more jam in the fridge. I've tried calling Caroline's dad again," she told him as he stuffed a bagel in his mouth without even bothering to cut it, "but I haven't gotten any answer. I don't know if we should involve the Sheriff in this or not..."
"She has a right to know that her daughter's missing, Mom," Tyler insisted as he inhaled his breakfast. "Care told me she's been working double shifts lately, but not yesterday. She's gonna catch on pretty quick when she realizes Caroline's not been home and hasn't at the very least call her. I should go over there, see if she can try and calm the situation down. I know they got divorced and all, but I doubt he'll respond well to a werewolf he's daughter is sort-of dating."
Carol looked at her son over the rim of her teacup. "Tyler?"
"Yeah, Mom?"
"Your father would be so proud of you...but not nearly as much as I am."
"Elena!"
"I said I'll be there in a minute, Damon!" Jeremy's sister hollered from her perch on his bed as she finished packing her bag. "You yelling at me won't make me go any faster."
"No, but it sure as hell makes me feel better. Come on, choppity chop, times a wasting. Chicago waits for no vamp, or a magical Capri-Sun; you can braid your brother's hair later. Right now, we gotta stop my brother before he gets matching My Little Pony tattoos with Klaus, 'cause, let me tell you, I am not paying for some Rainbow Dash removal from his-"
"Alright, alright, I get the picture." Elena sighed, flopping backwards onto the pillows, almost jabbing herself with one of Jeremy's half-open sketchbooks. She turned to him, a melancholic painted on her face. "Maybe we'll be able to get through one day this week where the topic of my vampire boyfriend isn't hanging over us. I know Ric told you last night about me, and Jenna, but I wanted you to hear it from me as well. It's a lot to deal with, and I'm so sorry to be taking off again, I don't want the house to be like this launchpad where I touch down for a few hours and then I'm back in the skies again, you need far more stability than that..."
Jeremy yanked her from the bed and to her feet before pulling her into his chest. When had he gotten taller than her? It was pretty unnerving, being taller than the one person you'd always looked up to. "It's okay, Elena. We've all got to do what we gotta do. Just say safe, and don't listen to whatever Damon tells you to do, because it's probably gonna be stupid."
"*I heard that, baby Gilbert!"
"I meant for you to!" Jeremy shouted back, giving his sister a conspiratorial smile. "You really are magical if you can sit in a car with him all day and not kill him. I'm still kinda surprised he's letting you go with him to Chicago."
"Hey, he's not that bad," Elena scolded him. "Besides, I threatened to steal the Camaro and go by myself if he didn't take me, which he did not take kindly to. He's been really good about this whole Elijah thing, Jeremy, and I trust him to keep me safe."
Jeremy asked quizzically, "More than Elijah?"
"Right now? Yes. Elijah feels betrayed, and we all know he doesn't act or think clearly when he's in that state of mind."
"Must be why he spent so much time hanging out with you, then."
Elena punched him in the arm. "Shut up, Jer. Matt said he'll be here in the next ten minutes or so; do you want me to wait?"
"Nah, go," Jeremy urged her. "I'll be fine. I can handle myself for ten minutes." After everything he'd brought up about Vicki, telling him about her ghost, going through her things together, he wanted to be there for Matt and try and help him de-stress, have a little fun. The guy deserved it.
"Well, your past history is kinda working against you there, buddy," Damon snarked from downstairs.
"I better go, his snarl is getting snarkier." It was Elena's turn to pull him towards her, whispering as she did, "I love you, Jer. I'm so proud of how you've handled everything, and I know Mom and Dad and Jenna are, too. If you need me, I'm a phone away." With a wave, she threw her messenger bag over her shoulder, and Jeremy watched from the landing as she flew down the stairs and caught up with Damon, laughing brightly as he made fun of her overstuffed bag. It was good to hear her laugh; in truth, it was nice to here anybody laughing these days. Maybe know that he knew Jenna was at peace, he'd be able to do more of it.
Everything hurt. That wasn't surprising, though, given the fact that her dad had left her here in this dungeon-pit for God knew how long, and hadn't said anything passed, 'Hello.'
It was time to change that. Make her captor feel sorry for her and all, even though she shouldn't have to: it was her dad.
"Daddy, are you there? Why won't you talk to me?"
The metal door swung out, revealing the haggard face of her dad. He didn't look too good, and honestly, she wasn't all that sorry. But it seemed he was, just not about his actions towards her. "I'm so sorry this happened to you," he rasped, such sadness in his eyes, a sadness she hadn't ever seen, not even the day he moved out, left her and her mom for a new life.
"Dad," she gasped breathlessly, feeling like she's on fire, and all she wants is for him to make her feel better, like he used to, but she knows he won't, not now. Not when he knows what she is. He kneels down so that their gazes meet, just like how he used to crouch in front of her when she was upset and trying to hide it.
Bill Forbes continues on, regardless of her pleas, "I need a answer: how can you walk in the sunlight?"
"Just let me go."
"Sweetheart, please, just answer me, then we'll get on with it."
"Is that all you wanna know?" Caroline asks with such an innocent hope in her voice even the darkest of hearts would melt at it.
"That's all I wanna know," her dad affirms.
Maybe it makes her the world's biggest idiot, but she glances down pointedly to her left hand, the ring sitting on her index finger.
"Interesting," he observes with an almost clinical fascination before tossing the silver jewelry to the dirt and out of her reach, sending her into a frenzy.
"What? Dad! Dad, no! Please. What are you doing?" Caroline begged, but it was like pounding a toothpick against a titanium wall: utterly without response.
"Your ancestors built this place," he tells her, getting up and surveying the room, his pride so evident, the same pride he'd had when she gotten good grades or done all her chores without asking or eaten all her vegetables, but this conversation is so very far away from the horrors of broccoli and untidy drawers. "People figured it was for unruly prisoners at the jailhouse, but they had something else in mind. Vervain in the ventilation system to keep their subjects weak. Reinforced steel containment chair and...that."
Caroline followed her dad's gaze up to the ceiling, to the grate set into the wall behind her. When she looked down, there wass a bag of blood from the hospital in his hands, the last thing she'd ever expect, not after his big speech, how he'd basically just referred to her as a 'subject' like she was something to be studied, like she wasn't his flesh and blood.
"What are you doing?"
Wordlessly, he held it out to her. She felt her eyes cloud over and her fangs extent, but she didn't care because she was just so hungry. What starving man doesn't get excited at the sight of a Burger King? And then just like that, he took it back, and Caroline wanted to scream, to make him stop, but when have her cries or her tears ever stopped him before? They certainly didn't get him to stay, that's for sure.
"Blood controls you, sweetheart," her dad says as he moves around the chair, and his sudden movement made her heart pound even harder in her chest. "This is how I'm gonna fix you."
Caroline heard a rattle, like a chain being pulled, and then all she knows is pain, and screaming.
"Looks familiar, doesn't it?" Klaus mused behind him as Stefan surveyed the interior of Gloria's after their trip to that warehouse and Klaus' whole, 'That's a crying shame: the details are what makes it legend' spiel, the past and the present commingling in a hazy rush as he's hit with a sense of dejâ Vu and watches the dust motes float in the thick afternoon sunshine streaming in through the windows.
"I can't believe this place still exists," he half exclaimed half admitted, as if the place only existed in his mind when he was there, and then when he left, it faded into the oblivion of time.
"You gotta be kidding me, said a voice from behind them, one he recognized but couldn't quite place.
"So, a hybrid walks into a bar and says-"
"Stop. You may be invincible bit that doesn't make you funny." She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Stefan. "I remember you."
"Yeah, you're Gloria," Stefan said, awash in a sea of memories from the twenties. Which meant... "Shouldn't you be..."
"Old and dead?" Gloria finished for him before adding with a smile, "Now if I die, who's gonna run this place, huh?"
"Gloria's a very powerful witch," Klaus explained, which in their world was answer enough.
"Magic can slow the ageing down some," the witch aquiesced, "herbs and spells. But don't worry, it'll catch up to me one day."
"Stefan, why don't you go and fix us up a little something from behind the bar?" Klaus part asked, part ordered, and after a slight lifting of an eyebrow, he gave in with a murmured, "Yeah, sure thing." But even at the dark wooden counter, Stefan didn't divert his attention from the conversation going on between the hybrid and the witch.
"You look ravishing, by the way."
"Don't. I know why you're here," she said as they took a seat at one of the round tables dotting the space. "The hybrid out to make more hybrids; that kinda news travels."
"So what am I doing wrong? I broke the curse."
I know. I know, but I'll never tell you, not even if you kill me.
"Obviously, you did something wrong." Stefan wondered how many people had talked to Klaus like that and kept their lives. His guess? Not many. "Look, every spell has a loophole. But a curse that old...we'd have to contact the witch who created it."
"Well, that would be the Original Witch; she's very dead," Klaus replied, the smile evident in his voice, making Stefan incredibly on edge.
"I know, and for me to contact her, I'll need help," Gloria admitted, but Stefan wasn't paying attention to her now. He was paying attention to the photo that had happened to catch his eye, one that couldn't be true, and when he took it down, he almost expected it to change, for the faces to warp or for it to turn into a puff of smoke or something.
Because this...it couldn't be real. It couldn't.
"Bring me Rebekah," Gloria told Klaus.
"Rebekah...Rebekah is a bit preoccupied," Klaus replied with, and right now, Stefan didn't even care.
"She has what I need. Bring her to me."
"What is this?" Stefan finally garnered the strength to ask, and Klaus must have been anticipating this, for he didn't even spare the black and white photograph a single glance as he drawled, "Well, I told you, Stefan: Chicago is a magical place," like a complete and total ass.
"This is me," Stefan explained in a state of complete disbelief. "With you."
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Sorry for the wait, and the fact that this chapter kinda goes all over the place, it was difficult trying to find the best place to stop and split the episode into two chapters, which i think might be the trend from now on.
Thank you so much for reading, I hope you have a lovely rest of your week!
Until next time!
All my love, Temperance Cain.