Nemesism: def. frustration, anger, or aggression directed inward, towards oneself and one's way of life
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Chapter 31: Well, That Was Unexpectedly Epic.
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Okay, so I know that I said that I enjoyed Elena's misery.
And I do.
It's just that I would've just enjoyed it a lot more if it involved less caterwauling.
The first few minutes after Jenna died was filled with Elena's sobbing, Bonnie and the rest of the crew looking hurt as they watched her mourning. All very dramatic considering she never helped them with anything.
Now, I bet you're wondering: Why is Alessia even watching anymore of this? She's too good to waste her time.
And I agree wholeheartedly.
However, there is something that I've noticed occurs throughout the old timeline when it comes to the enemies the Losers Club faced and defeated.
They never stick around after killing someone to make sure nothing interesting happens.
And, it always somehow bites the bad guys in the ass.
Katherine turned Caroline into a vamp to use her as a spy, didn't keep a close enough eye on her after— boom! Caroline ends up being the reason Katherine gets stuck in the tomb.
Tyler gets his neck snapped and turned into a hybrid, Klaus doesn't get him on lockdown away from the group soon enough, and he ends up nearly killing the Original several times.
No one ever permanently killed Elena Gilbert—because who could do that to poor, innocent Elena? —and she ended up being the cause of almost everyone's deaths. And, after Grams, I was going to ratify that mistake. If Elena didn't die at the sacrifice, I would be happy to correct the wrongs of the universe— like the one deciding she gets to have a happy ending while the rest of us suffer. Therefore, the doppelgänger needs to survive until the sacrifice.
A rapidly-declining possibility with her babbling in front of my furious, magically and mentally-unstable, self.
Rolling my eyes as I try to bite down the swell of murderous rage starting to make my veins feel like they're on fire, I wave my fingers, slamming open my apartment's front door with my magic— slightly too strong however.
The door flies off it's hinges, rapid firing down the hallway like it's been shot out of a bullet.
I blink, slightly surprised by the obnoxious slam the heavy door makes against the other end of the hallway, narrowly passing where Elijah is standing.
Turning sharply to me, Elijah quirks a dark brow as the dust begins to settle, silently challenging if I was targeting him now. Giving him a sheepish shrug paired with a blasé 'yikes' face, I turn to face the rest of the stunned Scooby Gang, and a now-thankfully-silent Elena.
"Whoops," I sigh, frowning at the thought of having to fix that sizeable door-sized dent in the wall.
I mean, it was just a wave of my hand, but I'm lazy.
Said Scooby Gang are watching me incredulously, and I catch eyes with Caroline.
There's a shocked look in her eyes, of course, and confusion, too. But, there's something in that one look that reminds me of the first time I met Care Bear.
My ex-blonde. My ex-twin flame. My ex-soul sister.
The little girl who walked up to me on the day of my first-grade 'field trip' to read to the kindergarteners. I spotted said-blonde hurricane when she was coloring with Bons and Elena at a rainbow crayon table. She had two pigtails and huge cornflower blue eyes, and she was the most adorable kindergartener ever. And she was very, very mad.
"What do you mean 'we're not best friends,' Elena?!" She cried shrilly, cute voice warbling with the threat of an oncoming fit.
A very little Elena Gilbert blinked her big brown eyes adorably at Caroline as she continued to color in her purple horse that carried a knight on its back, "Bonnie called it first."
"Yeah!" Bons chimed in cheerfully, currently drawing her and Elena at a dance party with the PowerPuff Girls.
Baby blondie's cheeks puffed up in irritation, cheeks getting red as her eyes got watery, and I thought it was the best pair of puppy dog eyes I'd ever seen.
"Well, fine then!" She sneered back at the two other little girls snootily. "You both are not pretty enough to be my bestest friend, anyway. I have a much cooler, much prettier best friend than you two could ever get!"
"Oh, really?" Elena asked, never having been one to like when people talked down to her. "Than who is it,Caroline? I bet she's not even real and you lied and made her up."
A couple of big tears roll down the blonde little girl's rosy cheeks as she but her lip, trying not to cry in front of them. She scanned the room quickly, embarrassment starting to flush her face even redder when cornflower blue met caramel for the very first time.
I had been depressed for several years at this point, and had begun to wonder if I had gone completely numb. I wondered if I'd ever feel anything that wasn't shitty.
And then, there it was— looking into a blonde five year-old's eyes, I felt the first spark of something in over sixteen months; and even though I didn't actually know it then, I knew that something had clicked into place. Something there when we locked eyes connected, and I knew, no matter how many secrets I'd end up keeping from her— this girl was going to be in my life for the rest of it.
And then, she told Elena and Bons I was her best friend, unaware that I was Bonnie's big sister.
Even now, with how angry I am, I still feel that way. Like I was supposed to meet her. And I hate it. Because it's making me think that Caroline was telling me the truth— and that makes it much easier for me to want to forgive.
I don't enjoy feeling this way now.
I don't like feeling like a fucking time bomb all of the time.
I don't like the fact that my purpose for walking around on Earth at the moment is the fact that I have people to hurt, who I used to love.
Well, except Elena.
And a part of me wished that I had never come back in the first place. Fate had been a cruel mistress to me, bringing me back to life, bad emotions cranked to a hundred, just to watch the people I sacrificed my life for do nothing for me. The truth of the matter is, I can't take another breech in trust.
I am already so broken and in so much fucking pain, that even now that I'm here and making them pay, it wasn't gratifying enough.
In essence, I'm fragile right now. I couldn't take another blow.
I'm strong, but I'm not that strong— and I know that one more good heartbreak will break me. So, how am I supposed to trust anyone? How am I supposed to feel when my ex-best friend tells me that she voted for me to come back, but didn't try very hard to make it happen when Jeremy won?
And I can tell what she's thinking the same way she can probably tell what I am.
She's wondering how she's supposed to feel right now about me. Her eyes are big and conflicted, and I know that she's wondering just how much she'll be willing to forgive. Jenna isn't the last straw for her, and I can tell judging by the storm of emotions in her gaze that it was something that she had already forgiven.
It made me question the same thing.
Snapping my attention back to the room, Elena gasps on the floor as she suddenly releases Jenna's corpse from her weeping willow grasp.
"Jenna?" She asks, most likely feeling her restarting heartbeat. Her brown eyes snap to my form accusingly, clearly not wanting to accept the truth of the situation.
"Yup," I say with a loud pop at the end, "She didn't deserve to die for your stupidity," I pause, mock-thoughtfully putting my finger on my chin, tapping it a couple times before adding, "This time. Now, take your little baby vampire home before I rip your heart out for one of your little Salvatore boy toys. You can even pick which one."
I gasp playfully, enjoying the twist of hate on her face as Elena Gilbert glares at me the way she always has— like I'm the bad guy.
And as the rest of the Scooby Gang vamp sped one another out of my apartment, Damon leaves last, giving me a heated look. His face is blank, blue eyes penetrating, as usual, and he just really takes a good look at me before dashing off into the night.
Still feeling like my magic is going to pop from under my skin like a balloon, I turn and paste a polite smile on my pretty face as I turn towards the three most threatening vampires in existence.
If Elena Gilbert wanted me to play 'Heroes and Villains,' I knew what side I firmly stood on.
And, I had no problem playing the role.
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"So, what brings the Three Musketeers to a lowly reincarnated witch's birthday party?" I ask, grabbing one of the beers on the counter and promptly twisting it open, popping a straw in the mouth so I don't ruin my lipstick, and somehow blow up something by getting mad over it.
"I hope you've both brought a present, since it's rude to party crash," I finish playfully as I gesture to the two K's of the Mikaelson siblings, my smile finishing on the one and only, Klaus Mikaelson.
Outside of Silas, I considered him to be the other side's King piece on this massive chessboard— despite what Kol and Elijah would have me believe.
In person, it was much more noticeable as to why.
Klaus was not only a devilishly handsome bastard— both literally and figuratively— but, he had an incredibly charismatic aura about him that you just couldn't feel when watching from the outside. This was a man of power, a man of influence, and therefore, not one to take lightly.
When I had originally been playing for Team: Whatever Bons Wants, my plans in particular for Klaus were difficult to prepare for.
Not only was he wickedly intelligent and intuitive— Klaus Mikaelson was paranoid.
Getting the up on him was exceedingly difficult for his adversaries to do up until the day he died in the original timeline because of it; and considering who all shows up for his head and home, that's significant. I decided that the safest way to handle him at the time was to make an honest deal with the guy.
Elena Gilbert in exchange for the few citizens of Mystic Falls that Alessia Bennett likes.
And now that things had gone topsy-turvy, I had no idea how I wanted to deal with him— or any of the Mikaelsons. God knows, anyone else who knew their track record when it came to the sustained health of their business partners would run for the hills.
I try to soothe the energy running rampant under my skin, but I'm unsure of how long I can hold out before I end up causing the electricity to go out for the entire block. We'd just have to make this quick so I could find something creative to implode.
"Unfortunately, no. You agreed to assisting us and we've come for assistance," Klaus states, as if it's already a fact that I'm helping them with whatever they want, and it amuses me.
My mouth quirks slightly as I give him a look, walking over and sitting on my white leather couch and crossing my legs— gesturing for them to take a seat as well if they wished. Elijah acquiesces, but Klaus and Kol continue to stand anyway, the former just walking closer to us with a newly refilled glass of alcohol.
"What he means," Elijah inserts, adjusting his cuffs as he leans back against the couch, eloquently as he corrects, "is that it has become imperative to locate Sheila Bennett— and more specifically, the coffin— as soon as possible. What my brother failed to mention is that he informed Kol and I this morning whom is within said-coffin. It cannot be allowed to open at this time."
Playfully furrowing my brows at the more uptight Mikaelson, I take another sip out of my straw before smirking, "Ah, more people resurrecting. A lesser person would think it's the end of days or something."
"And you don't?" Kol suddenly interjects, and my eyes lock on malevolent dark ones for a moment before answering.
Lightly, I sigh, "I'm sure the end of days already happened, and we're all just here to suffer together till we move to the next place. Where we all get to suffer together again and again— and so on."
Kol hums as if he's thinking but his eyes are carnivorous on my form, clearly indicating that he's thinking of something else we can do together again and again.
Too bad for him, I'm in a terrible mood.
"That's all well and philosophical, but could we get a move on with finding Granny Bennett? The sooner the coffin is safe, the sooner we can all go home," Klaus demands, oddly reminiscent of a toddler.
Ignoring his tone and turning to Kol with a quirk of my brow, I ask, "What all have your witches tried to locate her? I've tried a handful of spells, but whatever the hell is guarding that coffin is powerful enough to manipulate them."
His eyes glint with apparent interest, clearly happy that I know exactly who he is.
"Just about everything between beginner and professional magic. What we need is a powerful talisman to bolster one of the stronger spells through whatever is stopping the other location spells."
Brows furrowing, my eyes snap to Klaus.
"You want to use me— in all essence— as a battery to jumpstart the location spell?"
"Precisely," Elijah bluntly assures, looking somewhat apologetic when I glare at him. "That came across a bit calloused. My apologies, Miss Bennett."
Ah, so polite, Dahlia sighs dreamily, and so very easy to look at.
Yeah, I'm actually a bit jealous, Lettie hums. Don't count out the other brothers though. All very pretty, altogether.
True.
Well, at least the involuntary attraction to every pretty thing isn't just a 'my lifetime' thing.
"Well, that's all peaches and cream, but I'm failing to see why you're here at my birthday party for this. I asked for this off, Elijah," I groan, wanting them gone so that I can go unwind this hot, increasing pressure in my veins.
"And I agreed," Elijah replies firmly, turning to give the now-smirking Klaus some serious side eye. "Niklaus seemed to think he could persuade you to see his way, so he and Kol decided to follow to see if you were available after your evening ended."
Turning to look Klaus in his wild, stormy gaze, I pause at the look in his eyes, unsure what it means. All I know is that he's looking for something, and whatever he's looking for, he sees it in my eyes, smirking impishly. It immediately makes me suspicious to watch that grin spread across his face.
"Well, I was going to attempt to persuade you into seeing my way," Klaus replies for himself, blue eyes taking on a glint that I didn't know if I trusted. "But, after that spectacular performance, I'd say you must be more than exhausted. We'll take our leave and regroup in the morning."
Blinking in surprise, I can't help but doubt the paranoid hybrid, unsure what his next move would be when it came to me. Obviously, him and Dahlia had history according to Kol, but I had no idea how much leniency that offered.
Or when it would run out.
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It didn't take long after that for the three Mikaelsons to vanish one by one.
And so, I sat in that apartment.
An hour of whispering small spells to release the ever expanding pressure of my own anger.
This situation was absolute shit.
Not only could Caroline be more innocent of her betrayal than I had originally assumed, but no one had officially informed me of what all had occurred surrounding the decision to let me rot. I had no idea what exactly had passed since my own passing, and the thought was more than vexing, to say the least.
I breathe out of my nose, stiffening slightly when I hear my front door open once again, unsure as to who it was this time.
Turning, I pause completely when I see familiar ice blue eyes piercing mine, nearly making my heart stop at the surprise of it all. We both look at each other for a moment: me, cross-legged with a drink in my hand completely loaded with calming herbs; and him— tall, dark, and silent.
We both look at each other, and for once, I don't think about how he and Elena are.
I look at him, and I remember him.
I remember how we met.
I remember offering him cinnamon gum in his Camaro.
I remember him kissing me for the first time in front of the girls at practice.
I remember dancing with him at the Fifties Dance.
I remember hugging him when Katherine wasn't in the tomb, and Grams has just disowned me and Bons.
I remember us fake dating.
I remember him telling me about Lettie.
I remember him hugging me when we were rescued from Isobel's.
I remember almost sleeping with him.
And, I remember saying goodbye to him that night before I left with Grams.
I don't bother smiling, the tension in the room thick; and I wonder if I'm going to have to kill Damon here. No part of me gave a rat's ass about the timeline now— I didn't care who it saved or killed in the end.
But, a small part deep inside of me didn't want to have to be the one to do it.
"Hey, D," I greet politely after a moment, the silence of the still-trashed living room settling heavily between us and everything that has happened. "Come to get payback for Elena?"
Damon's face is carefully blank, not revealing anything in the myriad of sapphire shades in his eyes as he stepped further into the living room, stopping a handful a feet away from me. It feels like such a long time ago, back when we were friends. Back when we were probably more than friends.
Well, I guess it had only felt like a long time to me.
"No, Aly Cat," Damon answers after a beat of silence, glancing down at the ground before glancing back up at me, as if it hurt him to look at me. "No. I didn't. I came to talk."
Standing, I brush past him into the kitchen, and he silently follows, watching me refill my mug with hard eyes as he crosses his leather-jacket coated arms and leans against the doorframe. Rolling my eyes at the tension in the room after a few beats of silence, I finally break.
"Damon Salvatore? Just wanting to talk? That's a first," I quip bitterly, grabbing the half-spilled bottle of rum off of the messy counter and adding a good measure to my tea. I turn to face him, and the look in his eyes is startling in its intensity.
"You died, Alessia," Damon states bluntly, and I quirk a brow at him.
"I'm aware, D. I was there."
Damon suddenly slams his fist into the side of the door frame, creating yet another sizable dent in my apartment before spinning back to face me— eyes wild and angry.
"You died, Alessia!" He snaps, icy eyes furious on my simmering ones. Striding up, he gets close, glowering down at me, "I woke up that morning to a call at four in the goddamn morning. I went there. I saw you. There was blood everywhere. Your throat had been cut. And those pretty little brown eyes of yours were lifeless and dead. And then, I had to carry your corpse all the way back to my house and put you in my basement. You were gone. And, I could do nothing about it."
"Fuck you, Damon," I reply, getting angry that he's making my painful death an inconvenience for himself, "This isn't about you! How do you manage to take everyone else's problems and still make it about yourself? You are not the one who got abandoned here. I am. I'm the one who let you in and was left behind. You left me there!"
"I know!" He yells back, "I know what I did. I know what my vote was for. I know that no matter how much I apologize, you won't buy it. And I'm fine with that, Aly Cat. I play the bad guy all the time— you think I can't with you?"
Arching my brow, I shoot him a challenging look as I feel an anger-induced heat rush from my toes to the top of my head, asking the one question that brings that entire theory crumbling to the ground.
"Oh? Then, why the fuck are you here, Damon Salvatore?" I ask, and his eyes harden on mine. "Why are you even here if you're fine with it? You chose that day. You chose Elena. Why are you back here?"
He looks like he wants to hit something.
"I don't know! When I came back here, all I wanted to do was tear your heart out of your chest! And then, there you are. Just like before. And, I don't know what the hell I'm doing again," he shouts back at first, slowly lowering to a deep growl of rage as large hands move up to grip my shoulders, lightly shaking me.
I feel my own swell of emotions, the light above the stove shattering as I glare fiercely at the older Salvatore. The bastard.
Suddenly, he looks down at his hands on my shoulders, blue eyes widening with an epiphany. Those crystalline blue eyes that I've looked into many times before shift to an expression I've never seen before— one of deep, deep probing.
"Wait a minute," he says after a thoughtful pause, "You're letting me touch you."
Brows furrowing, I smack his hands away from my shoulders, walking out of the kitchen and promptly using my magic to open the newly-reattached door for him to get the hell out. I didn't know what he was getting at, and I didn't want to know.
"Get the hell out of here, Salvatore. Before I kill you for good," I snap, getting ready to turn off my lights in the living room and go to bed.
Suddenly, handsome, cologne-smelling Damon is right in front of me, blocking my route through the hallway as he leans against the wall, giving me one of his signature smirks.
"See, I don't think you will, Alessia. Because, as much as you want me to believe you don't care about us anymore, you wouldn't hate us if you didn't," he confidently guesses, and the analysis sends a shiver up my spine.
No.
I turn on my heel, spinning away from him when he grabs my wrist, yanking me back into his chest. I glower up at him as I stumble into him, and he spins me to where he has my wrist pinned above my head against the wall, us still facing each other as the distance grew closer.
My heart pounds loud and hard, fueled by anger and presumably something else, but not something I care to dwell on.
"You're so pathetic, Damon," I sigh, "I know you just want someone to pay attention to you when Elena isn't, but can't you bother someone who cares? That's adorable, like a puppy. Too bad girls don't fall in love with puppies, now do they? She got a leash for your bitch ass, too?"
Damon's glare becomes fierce on mine, and I don't realize how close we've become until I feel his warm breath on my cheeks. Heat blossoms in my chest, and we're both just there, in that moment of so much drama and tension and build up.
"Shut the fuck up, Alessia," Damon growls, and it's the last thing I can hear or say before his lips slam down on mine.
Everything is heat and passion and hate and confusion, and I drown in it.
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Flash Forward
10 HRS LATER
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Blinking rapidly, I open my bathroom door, fully recollecting, but not understanding what I had done.
Who I had slept with.
There, lo and behold, is a naked Damon Salvatore— manhood covered by the twisted Egyptian cotton sheets— and my eyes widen to comedic proportions at the confirmation.
His shaggy-haired early morning appearance is, frankly, the hottest thing I've ever seen, but I am very conflicted as to how I felt about this.
Did I consider this a good or a bad thing?
Definitely a good thing from what I remember, Lettie helpfully adds, and a flash of Damon and I passionately embracing floods my mind.
Okay. Okay. This was fine. It was just Damon, nothing dramatic would happen just because Damon and I had sex. Everything was going to be fine, and I would walk away from this just as easy as he did from me.
Or, at least that's what I thought, when I heard a British voice yell from the front door, "You ready to be our battery, pretty Bennett?"
Goddammit.
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A/n: Hey guys! Sorry for the late update, but you guys should know that I'm going through some stuff at home so I won't be able to post as much as I'd like. Thank you for your patience!
Also, we haven't talked about smut yet, so, let me know if it's something you guys are interested in! Also, I know some people don't like it, so I'll clearly mark it if it's there moving forward.
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