A/N: Hello, guys. This is the second chapter of my full-fanfiction. I'm excited to show the OC's POV…Anthony Gilbert has a strange warning from the spirits. Thanks to I love Kol Mikaelson for the request that bore this whole story. I just want to warn the readers that this chapter has some language.

If you don't like vulgar language, it's best to skip this chapter.

By the way, the Latin word Socius means ally, companion, fellow and comrade. Or that's Google Translate said. If I'm wrong, please let me know.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the TVD world**

Chapter 2: Renegade


Candles flickered as a vibrating force ricocheted along the crisp long posters that rolled out to the floor moldings. The light's dimmed and then expanded to highlight the smirking Loki and the other smooth amused fictional men. Sebastian from Black Butler with his white-gloved hand placed on his chest. Another long smirking one clawed hand trench coat wearing homunculus with long straight black hair. Chris Pratt in his red leather

Anthony Henry Gilbert was concentrating on the tone and the Latin phrases he muttered under his breath. A wick of sage burned in the corner of his room to mask the spells he chanted from prying ears such as his neglectful sister. Maroon and white powder blanketed inside the ring of glowing candles. His hands glowed with the residue of the powders he had carefully placed among the melting wax sticks.

His brow furrowed as a slight breeze entered the microscopic arena. The thyme he carefully placed in a wooden bowl with other herbs stirred by itself and then a tiny flame erupted from his words. Then the breeze quickened as he continued with the ancient and weighted Latin phrases and it skated through the powdered floor.

Tony's nose twitched as the powder sailed past his face. His upper row of gleaming white teeth anchored down the lower lip.

The distant smell of crisp pine needles invaded his nostrils. Tony's eyes turned into a milky white and Norse symbols appeared across the scattered grains.

A sharp snarl erupted from the amber flames, one that had entangled with the sulfurous aroma and had tangy, flowery and something unknown stirred in the air.

The spirits howled with not anger, but happiness and hope. They giggled and a dark feeling wafted over Tony and the powder coated floor.

The milky hue evaporated and a gust of air escaped from Tony's lips.

"He's alive," he whispered through quaking lips.

Tony's heart thundered. His palms erupted in sweat. He then collapsed to the ground as a final invisible wave knocked against him.

A coo resounded in his ears. One of Kol's past lovers, who taunted Tony and ran her formless fingers through his hair. Tony's lungs seized and his heart pounded in terrifying anticipation. A dark retribution spread out into the lit powdered circle.

Tony's pulse resumed once the apparition slipped out the room.

He gasped and shuddered as he rose up to his up to his bare feet. His calves tightened and an overwhelming urge to run flooded his thoughts. Kol Mikaelson was alive…How? Who would bring him back?

Who would dare?

Didn't they know the horror they were unleashing on the world?

Tony's lips thinned.

He ran his hand over his eyes.

"Kol's alive," he murmured.

Still confounded by this profound realization.

The spirits buzzed around his head. Soft yet spirited warnings echoed and then cautioned the young warlock to remain alert for this newly resurrected individual. And to prepare to make a decision.

"What am I deciding on?" Tony wondered aloud.

Instead of a response, the air sucked out of the room. It slithered under the door and the magical aura dissipated. He sighed in frustration. Spirits, who seemed to love meddling, never really wanted to face the consequences of attempting to slaughter a Mikaelson or two. Although, they seemed to love rooting for the Mystic Falls gang on their attempts to kill Klaus on multiple occasions.

Tony dusted off the powder from his wrinkled black shredded skater jeans. He blew out the candles. Didn't want his room burning down. He sighed once more and grabbed his phone and his jacket. It buzzed and it informed him of his coffee plans with a one Sash. Tony smirked at the emoji exploded with bursting heart eyes. He walked out the circle and plucked up his grimoire. He refused to leave that holy book out to be read by any possible vampire eyes or any loyal yet underappreciated brown skinned witches whose names happened to rhyme with Ronnie Hennett.

He then walked out of his bedroom and shut the door.

Anthony eyes widened in horror. His face contorted in disgusted astonishment. The pans were charred at the bottom of the metallic dish. Elena panicked as the pan melted under her grasp. He spotted a charred dish rag in the sink and a chipped plate beside the coffee pot. What in name of the universe?

Was that even possible? To burn the pan to the extent of the metal dripping, and then his sister should have known not to even attempt cooking with her genes.

Anthony his amused smirk behind his sage and numerous powder dusted right hand.

"Where's Anthony?" asked Elena.

Anthony's smirk slipped away. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He might as well walk out. They wouldn't notice. They never did.

He loved his siblings, but they got on his nerves. How long did it take to observe the quietest Gilbert?

Whatever. He had spells to do. Magic he actually wanted to engage in.

He stalked over to the entryway and flung open the front door.

"Hello, Gilbert," greeted an arrogant voice.

Anthony raised a bored eyebrow. He forced to swallow the lingering anger that attacked his heart. It took all of his control to fight to down his instincts and attack the immature and uncaring vampire.

"Salvatore," he deadpanned.

Damon smirked at him. "Dumbledore," Damon responded mockingly.

Anthony stewed. All it would take was one migraine…

"Damon? Anthony, there you are," stated Elena.

"So, your sister's been looking for you…What a coincidence," said Damon.

Tony snorted.

"Anthony, Bonnie's gone. We need someone to help us trap Silas," she pleaded with pseudo-reason.

What did he expect?

All she saw was opportunity, a walking breathing opportunity who knew how to bind and burn her enemies. Tony Gilbert was simply a piece of the puzzle for her end game. His eyes burned and he briefly shut his lids.

You'd think after Jeremy had died, she'd have a bit more compassion and love for her remaining family…But nothing had changed.

He was a mage pawn in her little games against the so-called forces of evil. His throat scorched with thick stomach acid and he swallowed down both his acidic bile and his disappointment.

"…" Anthony brushed past Damon.

"Anthony where are you going?" demanded his sister.

Anthony ignored her and continued stalking through the dew-collected grass. He was practically Bonnie 2.0. He was required to appear before the great and powerful Elena and her devoted legion of brainwashed devotees. Like Bonnie, he had his own personal life which seemed to be overlooked by whatever Elena schemed or involved herself in. And that greasy self-centered elder Salvatore didn't help matters as he pushed and persuaded her to commit to those devious decisions.

What a bunch of selfish assholes.

Too late, sweetheart.

"Oh come now, Tony. You know we need you," pleaded Damon in a mocking tone.

"Anthony, Bonnie's gone. Silas killed Jere, we need to stop him," reasoned Elena.

"I don't need to do anything," Tony remarked coldly.

Their brother was gone. What was the point of facing Silas? For revenge, for family, he doubted she was doing this for any noble reason. He wasn't going to involve himself in a magical duel at the behest of his wide-eyed sister. Silas was feared and locked away for a reason…And his sister of course unleashed him. Any and all havoc Silas wrecked on the world was on her, not him.

She wanted the cure.

He didn't.

She stirred the pot with the Mikaelsons and then complained and refused to bow before their deals or treaties.

He was indifferent to the whole ordeal.

She was still stuck in the past.

He couldn't find himself caring.

"Anthony," she started.

Tony whirled around on her. "No, Elena. I'm not going to help you."

Did she honestly believe she could bat her little eyelashes and expect him to come running at the first sign of trouble?

"But we're family," she emphasized.

Anthony Gilbert tasted the insincerity that splattered through the space between them. He wanted to just wallow in a hole and never come out. But he forced himself to not sink into the ground.

"Listen to your sister, Gilbert," taunted Damon.

Anthony's lips thinned.

His dark eyes leered at Damon's smirk.

Anthony's hands buzzed and shook with a thick invisible energy that saturated the air that tugged on the stirring cyclones that formed as his lips silently parted with a curled Latin phrase. The energy snapped and whipped in Damon Salvatore's direction.

A flame erupted on Damon's leather covered collarbone. The once-smirking vampire hissed in protest and groaned as his knees collapsed to the ground.

"Damon," Elena cried.

Anthony sneered down at Damon who kneeled at his feet.

"You fag…" growled Damon.

Tony didn't blink as he increased the lashing energy that dug into Damon's smug flesh. He even sprinkled in one that made small rivers stream down Damon's eyes, nostrils and mouth.

"What did you call Anthony?" demanded Elena.

Tony scoffed. That what was her concern? Or rather her fake concern?

Like she cared.

"Whatever. See you around leech," growled Tony.

"Oh. Go suck a cock," retorted Damon.

"Damon," scolded Elena.

In a way she was offended of the hypothetical accusation. Like there was no way he was…that.

Like being gay equaled to damnation in the eyes of the pure St. Elena.

He rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his smooth velvet pockets. He sighed as he pivoted away and trudged down the sidewalk.

Hopefully, he got hit by a bus.

"He said what?!" hollered Sasha.

Sasha King, his best friend, whose thick black curls and black arms that leaned into the table in defense ready to spring at Salvatore. She wore a luminous purple sweater with a thin silver cross necklace that sat on her chest and a nice pair of jeans. Her brown eyes highlighted thanks to the purple eyeliner and mascara that decorated her face. Her eyes danced in irritation and objection at Tony's words.

He paused before he resumed speaking.

"There's other people you know?" teased Tony.

"Shut up, Iron Man," she retorted with a slow roll of her eyes.

He chortled.

"Yeah, big man in a suit of armor…Take that off, what are you?" she demanded in her best gruff Chris Evans' imitation.

"Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist," he responded with false arrogance.

They glared at one another until their lips began trembling. They burst out in uproarious laughter. Sasha sighed with a wide amused smile.

"I have a problem, Sash," confessed Tony.

"Yeah, you have a serious problem with smirking bad boys," Sasha informed with a wiggling pair of manicures eyebrows.

"Don't all bad boys smirk?" asked Tony.

Sasha's eyes swirled in silent deliberation.

"Dr. Doom doesn't," she said.

Tony shook his head.

"Technically, Doom isn't a bad boy," he noted.

"Yeah, he's a bad man," she hummed with a thrill dripping from her words.

"You have problems," he joked.

"Pot. Kettle," she said.

Tony chuckled.

"Yeah," he agreed.

A long beat of silence passed them as Tony lifted his foamy drink to his lips. His eyes turned to the giggling girl who batted her thick mascara coated eyelashes at her overwhelmed and gulping chunky blonde boy companion.

She leaned into him and pressed gently on his thick, hairy arm. Her red lips puckered and she captured his trembling lips in a slow and sweet kiss.

His eyes widened in surprise and then his cheeks tinted in red from both pleasure an endearing delight.

"Well, that's new," commented Anthony.

And so not going to land the evening news.

"Yep. And so sweet…" cooed Sasha.

"Almost," muttered Anthony.

"Are you kidding? It's refreshing. I'm so tired of the stereotype that thin pretty girls only go for pretty athletic guys. Besides- I get it," she confessed.

Tony turned to her with an astonished look.

"I thought you liked strong guys," he said.

She scoffed and looked at him with pursed lips.

"I do. But I really love men who are thick and muscular and have some pounds filled out in the stomach, sides and legs. Mm…Nothing sexier than a big bear of a man. A man who can lift you off the ground with no problem. A man who will cuddle with you," she said.

"Okay…" said Anthony.

"You don't approve," she noted.

"It's not that…" he started.

"Yes, it is. But maybe you'd change if Kol gained a belly," she teased.

Tony blushed.

"Ha. Totally called it," she bragged.

Tony chuckled and then tipped back the thick creamy sugar drink down his throat.

"So the migraine spell…" Sasha started.

Tony tilted his head to the side.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Does it hurt?" she responded with a curious tone.

Tony smirked and lifted the cup to his lips once more.

Sasha cackled.

"Good. Hope the ass lost some brain cells," she said.

"That's generous to assume he had some to begin with," mocked Tony.

She giggled.

Tony cracked a content smile.

"I can't believe you and Elena were raised by the same parents," remarked Sasha.

"Me either," agreed Tony.

"Stop," begged Sasha.

Tony's cheeks rose and his eyes twinkled.

"You too are the strangest siblings," she observed.

"I'm not," he argued.

Sasha snorted. "Uh. Huh."

"…I wish she'd just see me. And not the projection of me she wants. I'm like her little doll," he confessed.

"A gorgeous Ken doll," she cooed.

"Gee, thanks," he said.

Sasha smirked.

"I'm leaving," he said with tilted teasing lips.

"Goodbye…I'll send a postcard," she sang.

Tony snorted.

He frowned once he looked down as the sage remnants that floated and then realigned with the same Norse symbols that then remerged into one familiar Latin phrase, Socius. Strange that the spirits remained vague with what they wanted him to do. They'd never been shy before.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a fearful tone.

Tony turned back to Sasha. "Someone has brought back a Mikaelson."

Sasha inhaled. "Which one?"

"The one my siblings killed," he said.

"That doesn't narrow it down," she said with a frown.

"…The one they killed successfully," he elaborated.

"Oh…Oh! Your sexy-ass boyfriend."

Tony's cheeks burned. "Shut up."

Sasha smirked. "Me thinks the lord protest too much."

Tony snorted. "You said that wrong."

A well-manicured eyebrow rose. "And?"

Tony pressed his lips together.

Why had Kol Mikaelson been brought to life?

He tilted his lips in a teasing grin. "Are you up for a road trip?"

"Of course," she said with a smirk adorning her face.