Sapiosexual: def. one who is attracted to or aroused by intelligence in others
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Chapter 29: This Might Have Been An Oopsie.
Do not get me wrong; I am very aware that something has changed drastically when it comes to my psyche.
Obviously.
I'm killing people for barely annoying me on the side of the road, for Christ's sake.
But, I never thought I'd wake up to this scenario.
When I had first awakened, the first thing to hit me was the pounding headache. Blinking blearily, I reached my arm up in an attempt to block whatever bright thing was waking me up so fucking early— turns out, it's the sun peeking in through with it's early morning light.
When had I gone to bed? Where had I been?
Everything, including knowledge of who or where I was, was just not quite in my tired brain just yet, but I knew one thing: whatever I did had involved copious amounts of alcohol.
The backs of my eyes pounding, I gently reach up and rub them achingly, feeling blindly for the edge of the blanket to escape the confines of the bed. Taking careful steps around the blurry shapes I could see on the still somewhat dark floor, I traverse the distance from the bed to the nearest door, sighing in relief when it's a bathroom, like I'd hoped. I slide into the bathroom, flipping the light switch on and turning to look at myself in the mirror.
I was a hot mess.
Do neither of you recall anything, either? Dahlia asks, and I slowly nod with a pinch of my nose.
Too early.
Can't think.
Reaching down to the sink, I cup my hands and fill them with cold water, quickly grabbing the bar soap besides the sink and scrubbing my smeared makeup face. It's when I'm drying my face off with the hand towel, that's when I spot it in the mirror. When I glance down and see that not only am I naked, and not only that, but I have significantly large purple hickies trailing from my neck downwards. There's a soreness in my thighs and arms that I hadn't felt till that moment, and that's when I closed my eyes and groaned. My hair is a thick, curly, bronze wad of fluffed up hair and my lips are puffy and dry. Oh, boy.
So, we've had an escapade it seems, Lettie unhelpfully adds.
No shit, Sherlock.
Well, this could be a good or a bad thing depending on who the lucky lover was, and considering the luxury status of this marble countertop bathroom, it most likely was a good thing. Maybe I had bagged a rich dude, and if I got pregnant, the rest of my life would be set in the lap of being hella rich. That's a nice new life for after this vengeance stuff.
Speaking of which, depending on who's in that bed, I might have a roadblock to killing Grams and Doppelena.
Rubbing the sides of my head, I close my eyes and try to remember what happened last night.
I was in the motel room after my nap...
———
Flashback: 10 hours ago
———
Shaking my hips along to the rhythm, I dance on top of the marble countertop of my brand new kitchen with a bottle of champagne now hand; the radio besides me blaring a Maroon Five song as I yell along in my underwear.
I had wasted my life protecting people who wouldn't protect me, so after my nap, I decided that it was time to move to a place that didn't smell like Cheez-Itz.
I had charged Damon an arm and a leg to detox his brother, and my eighteenth birthday had passed while I was decomposing, so I was well within my rights to get a cute little one bedroom rental for my stay here in Mystic Falls. Not to mention, I didn't have to deal with any contracts or background checks because I just stuffed the owner's corpse into the hall closet with a handful of spell bags to seal the smell.
After making him sign a piece of paper saying that I own the apartment, anyway. But, that wasn't the problem at hand; I had come to a conclusion as I was thinking on my revenge plot.
Revenge would have to wait.
The revelation that I had lost my eighteenth birthday bash over the fucking doppelgänger was enough to make me want to blow up another restaurant, so as I take another swig from the complimentary champagne bottle left in the kitchen, I decide it's time to really show off my new digs.
I could throw Grams' heart against a wall anytime I wanted to go and get her.
I had time— why not do something just for Alessia?
It'd be relatively simple to get a party together if I could get my old friend, Tyler Lockwood, to assist me— but how to do so when he thought I was dead?
Don't get me wrong, I held no love for my ex-friends, not even him, but he had everyone who was anyone's number and could get them to come over, and bring drinks. Humming thoughtfully, I bend down to the radio on the countertop beside my bare feet and turn it down, hopping off the edge of the counter and landing on the hardwood with a soft thud. There was probably a spell for memory modification in one of the grimoires I swiped from Grams' house, but I forgot where I set the box with them in it.
Skipping over to my living room space, I spot the box on top of the white leather couch, promptly opening the flaps and diving in. I didn't bring all of my things from home, I had brought the essentials, but I pause briefly when I see a family album on top of the stack of spell books. The front is a picture itself, of me, Grams, and Bonnie, probably eight or nine years ago, planting tomatoes in our backyard.
Frowning momentarily at it, I toss it over my shoulder and continue to look for a grimoire that centered around the darker elements. Believe it or not, not all of us Bennett's mess around with the darker magics— just the majority's us; so, I'd have to make sure I didn't grab any of the goody-two-shoes' books. Moving a couple of the massive guidebooks out of the way, I spot my Great Aunt Maggie's grimoire and quickly grab it.
Flipping through the first few pages, I briefly remember Grams lecturing me about my Great Aunt, describing her as a witch without morals. Maybe I could slide into her role.
Whistling lowly as I flip through some of her memory spells, I find something even better than what I had been looking for. A mass potion for manipulating the memories of an entire town. Of course, it required two human sacrifices, but I bet with all of my extra magic juice pumping through my bloodstream that I'll be fine without it. It would just require some finesse.
Reading through the overview for the spell, I start categorizing ingredients in my mind when I hear a knock at the door. Raising a brow in confusion, as I hadn't actually informed anyone of my new address yet, I bend down and grab one of the stakes from my lay out of weapons on the purple fur rug.
What? We haven't unpacked everything yet.
Walking down the cool hardwood hall, I reach the front door and pull it open, surprised at who I find on the other side.
Dark, oak eyes pierce mine, widening slightly once they realize my state of dress. There, standing in his nicely fitted suit, Elijah Mikaelson looks down at me with a sharp intake of his breath as his dark eyes travel up to my face, turning to look literally anywhere else besides me when I raise my brow at him. Crossing my toned arms, I lean against the doorway with a smirk, a bit entertained at making the great Elijah Mikaelson embarrassed.
"Ah, Elijah. How can I be of service?" I ask smiling a little more when Elijah tries his very best to look me straight in the eyes and nowhere else.
"Miss Bennett. I apologize for catching you at an inopportune moment; our business can wait until your properly dressed. I'll wait here," he replies with that eloquent mouth of his, and there's something very pleasant about the motion of his lips as he speaks.
"Oh no," I say, amused smile not dropping for the first time since I crawled out of that grave. "I am properly dressed. I'm having a one-woman lingerie party to celebrate my resurrection. Technically, you're the one who's overdressed for the occasion, but I'll be nice and allow it. Please, come in."
Elijah shoots me a curious look, not understanding, but I step to the side anyway, gesturing for the handsome British man to come in. He crosses the threshold in even strides, clearly a man of substance judging just by his swagger, and he places a large hand in his pocket as he turns about the living room, looking around the place.
I know the moment he spots the weapons on the floor, hearing the familiar slide of metal as he pulls one of the blades from the lay-out, a butterfly knife that I received as a gift for my thirteenth birthday. Glancing from the weapons to me, I can see the curiosity in his eyes deepen as he fully looks at me from across the room, red lacy lingerie and all.
I take pity on the poor man, grabbing the large long-sleeve t-shirt I swiped from Tyler four months ago and tossing it on just as I hear a high pitch whistling from the kitchen. Elijah continues to just watch me as I pull my copper curls into a sizable ponytail, walking towards the kitchen to stop the tea before looking over my shoulder just as I reach the pot.
"Tea, Mr. Mikaelson?" I call out, already grabbing two mugs and honey from the cupboard and setting them on the counter, then reaching behind me to find the drawer with the stirring spoons.
Hearing a faint 'yes, please,' I promptly set out to pouring the honey and tea into the mugs, smiling at the pleasant earthy aroma. I place them on this adorable little silver tray that I found on top of the fridge, carrying our mugs out and finding Elijah standing in front of the fireplace, glancing out of the window before turning back to face me.
God, he's handsome.
Feeling chills as our eyes connect, I walk over to the couch and set down the tray on the audomen, gesturing for him to take a seat across from me. He acquiesces, finding his seat at the other end of the three-cushion couch as I cross my legs, my thighs poking out from under the large shirt. I see him look down briefly before snapping his dark gaze back on me, and the tension is palpable.
Grabbing my mug, I smile politely at him again, heat pooling in my stomach at the look he's giving me.
"What brings you here, Elijah? Klaus looking to put my head on a pike for Rorschach-ing his vampire minion?" I guess with an teasing arch of my brow.
Amusement dances across his almost-black eyes, him reaching in turn for his mug and taking a sip of the hot liquid within, taking an appreciative glance at the cup after swallowing, looking up at me in question.
I answer his unasked question, "I'm unsure what specific African blend it is, but it's an African tea."
Elijah nods, brushing off the answer as he eyes me seriously.
"So, how does a witch go about obtaining the power to come back from the dead and the ability to teleport?" He asks, and I can't help but laugh at the idea of such a strange question out of context.
I see the slight upwards tilt of his lips when I laugh suddenly, and I wave off his curious glance, quickly answering with, "How does a witch end up reincarnated not once, not twice, but three times? And with the luck of meeting you in one of those lives? Who really knows, Elijah. I've decided to start rolling with the punches rather than ask questions, I recommend you do the same."
His thick dark brows raise slightly, "Reincarnated? So, you're not like the doppelgänger."
Frowning at the mention of Elena Gilbert, I mock-pout up at the righteous Original, huffing, "It's not very polite to compare two women, Elijah. One would think you're old enough to know that."
I hear a rush of breath that could be interpreted as a chuckle, and it is deep, and throaty, and attractive. "You make an excellent point, Miss Bennett. My apologies. But, I'm afraid I'm here for more than just tea."
"You don't say?" I ask with a startling amount of sarcasm, even for me.
Elijah levels me with a look of no nonsense, and oddly enough, I feel the urge to disobey his nonverbal order just on principle. Instead, I simply smile to myself as I take another sip of my tea, noticeably drawing his curiosity at my response. He sighs lightly, the only sign that I've ruffled his feathers at all during this encounter, and yet, I find it a bit adorable, feeling the urge to keep messing with him. Does everyone feel this way? No wonder he attracted aggressive women— he was ridiculously fun to rattle. I wonder what would happen if he snapped?
Well, we kind of know the answer to that, Dahlia and Lettie chime in.
Don't synchronize your brain voices. It's creepy enough just having you both in here.
"I've heard rumors that you are looking for your grandmother in order to enact vengeance for your death, is this true?" Elijah asks, leaning further back against the couch but still somehow maintaining an air of authority.
Squinting my eyes at the Original, I primly set mug back on the tray, trying to see what he wanted before he even said it. "Depends why a Mikaelson is asking," I reply noncommittally, leaning forwards and resting my hands on my lap in interest.
"Your grandmother happens to have stolen something of great value from my family," he further iterates, also setting his mug down as he continues, "In particular, one of our family coffins. In any other circumstances, I would be here to see if you had any information regarding her whereabouts, but seeing as that's not the case, we would like to partner with a witch of your talent in the effort to find her."
Oh.
That stupid cow. She took off with Esther's corpse.
Wait.
Oh.
Oh.
Okay, this was smart. This could work out for me.
None of the location spells that I had performed in the last 24 hours had been successful in tracking the backstabbing tramp, and that was over half of the dozen total location spells that we had in our family grimoires. I might be high on magic right now, but I wasn't going to be able to stop the Original Witch and the entirety of my family tree without some ancient, hardcore juju.
At this rate, I was going to have to either create a new, stronger location spell that could take me a month to translate and test, or I'd have to look for help elsewhere. Turns out, Elsewhere has come to me instead.
"Okay," I decide quickly, surprising the man across from me as I stand up, moving to roll up my weapons and put them away. I'm seeing only positives with joining the Mikaelson squad.
"I'll help you out since our goals are mutual, and I'm willing to bet your family has just the grimoire to do the trick. But, let me make it clear, I'm not you Mikaelson's super powered pet. I won't come clean up any of your other messes without anything in return."
Elijah moves to speak before stopping himself, looking deeply in my eyes for any sign of treachery before saying, "And it's fair to assume that you are no longer on good terms with your friends. What about Miss Bonnie?"
Shaking my head, I laugh, still slightly bitter at the whole affair.
"Bonnie Bennett is no friend of mine. We're sisters in the terms of blood, and that's all," I firmly reply, annoyance rising at the subject matter, making me want to twitch.
"Ah, yes," he calls out as I walk around the corner to put my weapons in the laundry closet instead of the hall one that was currently occupied, "I find myself in a similar mindset every fifty years or so. Siblings do tend to bring out the worst in us."
Raising a brow curiously at him opening up to me slightly, I poke my head around the corner as I continue trying to shove the now rolled up mat above the dryer. "You... know what.. happened?" I ask between shoves against the mat burrito, finally getting it in all the way on the final shove. Unfortunately for me, this knocks me off balance from the step stool I'm on.
I don't even have time to feel the sensation of stumbling when I feel a sudden grip on my arms righting me. Glancing up, I'm looking right into the umber eyes of Elijah Mikaelson, and they are awfully compelling.
You couldn't tell much what the man was thinking at all, it made you want to look into him more to see what was so special. A sudden thrill runs up my spine when momentarily, only for a second at the most. I'm looking into the most predatory eyes I've ever seen; nearly feral.
They're lovely in their own way.
Elijah seems to have taken these few seconds to really look at me as well, and I don't know if he finds what he's looking for when he releases his gentle grip from my shoulders, regaining that guarded look in his eyes.
It makes me want to see the other look again.
Wow, that champagne must be strong.
Taking a step back from the intimidating, attractive Original who is a physical culmination of all of my childhood trauma; I give Elijah a sheepish smile to cut through the tension, tilting my head to the side playfully.
"So that you're informed, I'm unavailable tonight," I say after a moment, throat significantly drier than it had been before.
"And why is that?" He asks, smooth British accent an octave or so lower than before, and therefore in panty-tossing territory.
No. Control yourself, hoe.
"My birthday passed while I was all dead and whatnot. I'm planning on having a do-over celebration here, tonight," I reply, stepping back towards the living room to simultaneously clean up our tea mess and get far away from the darkly handsome vampire, but his footsteps are close behind, probably hearing the spike in my heart rate.
Well, at least now we know we can feel more than pure unprovoked fury, Lettie sarcastically sighs, and I almost audibly hear her eyes roll.
Oh good, it's not just me who thinks this absolute masterpiece is worthy of all the appreciation. Seriously. Could make a religion out of this shit.
You are all exceedingly late to the club, Dahlia sighs. I had unrequited feelings for him back when we were young. Confessed to him and everything, but he said I was too young. Pity.
Maybe he won't make the same mistake twice?
Let's hope not, they both say in scandalous sync. I almost crack a smile out our mental antics. Almost.
His eyes widen briefly before a small smirk appears on his pretty face, "Perhaps I'll make an appearance then, to wish you congratulations."
The way he says it, it sounds like it might be more than just congratulations, and my lips quirk up at my luck. My gaze playful, I smirk up at the verbose Mikaelson.
"Please, feel free. I'd love to party with a Mikaelson."
———
Stirring the fourth bowl of jungle juice, I dip a spoon and taste it, scowling before dumping in another bottle of vodka. Dipping again, it finally tastes like lifelong mistakes, and I know it's ready.
Tyler Lockwood walks in the room in all of his muscular glory, carrying another three cartons of soda and a large speaker on his tank-topped shoulders.
I have to say I'm enjoying the gun show.
Smiling as he walks up with the soda and setting them on the white marble countertop, he swipes the spoon from my hand, dipping it in my bowl and scowling.
"Jesus, Alessia," he groans, reaching for his glass of orange juice on the island and taking a dramatic gulp as I roll my eyes, before gasping, "You trying to kill everybody?"
Putting on a polite smile, I turn to face him with a hand on my silk covered hip.
"Maybe," I say with a noncommittal shrug of my shoulders, knowing full well that technically, I've drugged the jungle juice that we're drinking; just walking into the living room of many neon lights without thinking twice on it.
It's crazy how many witches don't use their magic as a paid-for service; really, witches would all be filthy rich if they just loosened up a little bit. And were less... Is 'racist' the word for discriminating against vampires? Species-ist? Classist? Who fucking knows.
Plugging one of the other large speakers he's brought over into my laptop, I start configuring our makeshift sound system while calling over my tanned shoulder, "Hey, Ty? Did Andy pull through on some balloons and glow sticks?"
"Yeah," I hear from directly behind my shoulder, making me jump like a frightened cartoon cat.
I swat his muscular shoulder several times.
"You jackass!" I snap, angry that somehow, trace amounts of fear and embarrassment are included in my leftover package of emotions.
Attempting to console me, he puts up his hands in surrender, black eyes sparkling in amusement at my humiliation. "Hey, hey, hey, birthday girl. Don't worry, no one will ever know the great Alessia Bennett was spooked by a guy behind her shoulder."
Sneering at him over my shoulder, I roll my eyes and turn back to fixing the sound system, taking a step back to check my work after a few moments. Sure, the new apartment was sparse and large, but the rainbow lights flashing everywhere paired with the neon signs that I stole from the still-wrecked Grill paired well together, making an almost club-looking space.
Dusting off my hands and sticking my hands on my hips proudly as I do a final glance around, I turn back to Tyler with a satisfied smile, "Alrighty, you know what you gotta go do?"
"Hell yeah," he replies with a cocksure nod of his dark head, smiling warmly down at me, and I feel a vague warm thrum in my chest, but that's all emotion-wise. "I'll go get everybody and let them know where to go tonight. No one's really doing anything since the Grill has that gas leak, so it'll probably be a big turn out."
Clapping my hands with a satisfied smile, I sigh, "Perfect, see you guys in an hour."
———
Exiting the bathroom and returning to the living room, I see that the majority of Tyler's invites have arrived in the ten minutes since I left.
All gathered around the alcohol and living room, the teens continue chatting and getting each other to do shots straight from the bottle. Mentally thanking my lucky stars that I decided to crank up the music early to enjoy my empty apartment before they arrived, I quickly head over to the jungle juice bowls and start pouring people the magically-drugged drinks, quickly gaining compliments on the flavor.
"Is that mango?" Football jock and relative douche bag, Felix Oberlin asks.
I just smile and don't answer, laughing along like what he says is a joke. I also see the moment the magic takes affect, his smile towards me changing from guarded to compassionate.
"It's great to see you doing okay out of the hospital, Alessia," he says with a friendly wave, moving out of the way for the next guy to get their drink. "The Spirit Squad wasn't the same without you, Bennett."
Nodding my assent, I once again appreciate my Great Aunt for concocting this when her town discovered her magical identity. Not only did it modify people's memories, it gave them compassion towards you, and the more compassion from the people you have at your back, the less likely it is that you'll burn on a stake. Proceeding to pass drinks out as quickly as possible, I continue until I'm out, shrugging when more guests arrived.
They could just think they were living in a Mandela effect.
Instead of dwelling on it, I reach behind the jungle juice bowls, firmly grabbing hold of my birthday bottle of rum from Tyler and pulling it with me through the ever-expanding crowd. Smiling at the writhing people all around me grinding to the loud pop music, I open the bottle, downing two gulps of it's contents before I'm suddenly spun around by my elbow. Blinking, my caramel eyes narrow into the forest green pair looking deeply into mine.
Yanking my elbow from his hold, I cross my arms, taking another sip of my bottle before saying, "Ah, Stefano. I see Tyler's just letting anyone in my front door."
Thick, furrowed brows furrow deeper, and the sickening amount of concern on his face increases as he stares down at me; slightly wide-eyed, like he didn't know what to do now that he had me here. I wait another moment, eyebrows raised as he tries to speak, but words continue to fail him. Rolling my eyes, I give Stefan a look that hopefully says, 'Stay out of my shit, Salvatore' before turning back to join my birthday festivities.
Adding the extra bottle of vodka had been the right call, people are already dancing and trying to get each other to do Jell-O shots in the kitchen. Everyone I pass smiles and waves at me adoringly, and I wonder if this is how the Mikaelsons used to feel in New Orleans during their lavish balls— admired? Admired.
Yes, this is all quite lovely, Lettie irritably says, but the question is: why aren't we getting wasted?
She makes a good point.
Spotting Tyler dancing with the football players in the corner, passing around a beer bong and trying to get each other to drink more, I make my way through the jumping crowd, smiling brightly when Tyler grabs my arm and pulls me towards the group. The boys all start yelling incoherently in excitement when they see me and I laugh at the giddy feeling buzzing under my skin as they place the beer bong in my hands. Lifting the funnel, they all spur me on good-naturedly as they grab another can of beer, preparing to open it for me, but I stop them.
Putting my hand on the beer and shaking my head, the boys all groan, and I hear 'Aw, come on, 'Lessia!' amidst the whining. It immediately bounces back to good vibes though when I instead hand Tyler my birthday rum, squatting down lower and puting the end of the hose between my lips as they all cheer raucously.
Tyler whoops and hollers over the loud drone of She Wolf by Shakira blaring through the speakers, and I finally feel the burn of the rum down my throat. Hearing choruses of 'chug, chug, chug!', I down several large gulps of the rum before pulling away, the guys looking at me in shock briefly before loudly cheering and passing beers around.
"Birthday girl just killed her first bottle!" Tyler yells over the music, and I holler with the crowd as they cheer, clapping my hands excitedly. This has been the best idea ever. I didn't even care if my old group was here; let them see.
They can choke on my good time.
Feeling a tap at my shoulder, I turn only to be greeted by the neon light-painted Stefan Salvatore. Blinking boredly, I promptly turn back towards the football team only to be turned again.
"What, Stefan? I'm clearly busy," I snap, not trying to talk over the music since he had vampire hearing.
His eyes soften slightly towards me, and the amount of pity I see in those pretty eyes makes me want to rip his goddamn throat out.
"Something is wrong with you, Alessia," he says lowly, leaning in my ear to speak earnestly. "Bonnie is working on something to fix this; let us help you."
Raising a brow as I take a step away from him, I'm once again reminded of the magic buzzing underneath my skin and the white-hot rage that's fueling it. Sighing primly instead of tearing out his esophagus like I want to, I spike my magic out threateningly at him, keeping him frozen as my hand slowly closes around the compressing magic. I lean forward into Stefan's ear, really wanting to get my point across, and I hear a slight shake in his breath when I do.
Hm.
"Listen to me closely, Stefan," I lowly threaten, tone sweet, but hearing the violent feral nature in my own voice loud and clear. "If you, or for that matter, any of that Losers' Club do anything to ruin tonight for me, I will literally decapitate your girlfriend and mail you her head, mafia-style. Got that, Bunny Biter? It's my birthday. It's not about any of you, it's about me."
Releasing him from my magic, Stefan gasps at the sudden control he has over his own body, but I just smile at him as someone comes to his side.
Dark, wicked eyes meet my own; matching smirk dripping off of his handsome jaw. Soft brown hair is pushed off his face in an effortless sort of way, fully displaying the cocky tilt of the tall man's head. He wears a fitted black button-up shirt rolled around the elbows, and I have to say, the way it flexes over his muscular shoulders should be a science. Giving Stefan a pat on the shoulder that's anything but friendly, Kol Mikaelson's feral gaze cuts into mine deeply, making my stomach flutter at how animalistic it is.
"That's no way to treat the birthday girl, Salvatore," Kol playfully chides, eyes never leaving mine as he walks up to me, bending down and pressing a kiss to the back of my hand sensually before looking back up at me through those thick lashes.
"Allow me to show him how it's done, love. Kol Mikaelson. I can't quite express just how excited I am to finally meet you, Alessia Bennett."
The feeling is mutual.
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A/n: Sorry, guys! It got too long, so I'm just gonna make the birthday party a two-parter. Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for all of the comments and support!
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