The hotel room is not exactly welcoming when I finally get back to it that night. I don't have enough money saved to buy an apartment, which is the practical reason why getting the job at the Mystic Grill is important. I'm not sure I could survive the paranoia if I had to constantly worry that some vampire was going to barge into the hotel room. No threshold. When I finally get settled, I consider the risks of a rampaging plot running into me and realize that it's not a good idea to leave the room unprotected.

I reach into my backpack and pull out the weirdly large bag of salt. It does not take long to line it around the room once and then again around my bed, two layers just in case. I'm not convinced that I can hold off anyone who really wants to kill me on my own, but this will keep any unwanted anythings away from me. This is a stop-gap measure until I can devise that adaptable barrier ward.

I pull the thin leatherbound notebook from the bag as well, the lock latched shut with thin magic. Much like the salt boundary spell, if anyone really wanted to get into the diary, they could, but deterrents are just that. Deterrents. Keeping your budding personal grimoire / journal away from prying eyes when you're growing up is important.

I flip past the first section of pages; my endless trains of thought about what it means to have been reincarnated in a fictional world are of no use here. Eventually, my need to begin crafting spells took over that philosophical debate, and I accepted my fate. The projects section has several pages of adaptations from the show, including lists of ingredients and even some important words, things that my training with the coven did not teach me. My favorite spell that I've figured out totally on my own and mastered is one that would make even Kol Mikaelson infinitely jealous, but there's not been much use for it yet.

Anyway, that barrier spell is not working as intended, if at all. There's a bracelet somewhere in my bag that will work, disguised as a simple beaded thing. I'm not a jewelry person, though I wore my high school class ring for years. On the page, I can see my reasoning fairly clearly: devise some kind of conduit clasping mechanism to create the charge, each of the beads containing different elemental symbolism to channel properly. In theory, the bracelet should work so that I only have to spell the object once, and it will work indefinitely without having to drain from my own reserves, able to shut on and off at will every time I open or close the clasp. Things never work the way they seem, of course, which is why it's not working so far. If I can manage it, it will work much better than a salt barrier, potentially in any room. After an hour of doddling and brainstorming, I've come to the conclusion that the material of the clasp needs to be optimal for spelling, and that the elements need to be better represented and encased. Unfortunately, finding something of this shape and in the right material is going to be next to impossible, but having a small layer of defense every time I'm inside a room? Yes, please.

Frustrated, I lean down on the bed and fiddle with my cell phone. Two missed calls. I ignore the first for good reason and call back the second.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom."

I can practically touch Megan's motherly concern, a separate entity from her voice altogether. She's kind and compassionate, if a little absent when she gets into her depressive episodes.

"Where are you? Are you safe? Joshua's on a-"

"Please don't end that sentence with 'man-hunt.' I really, really can't handle hearing that right now."

She sighs with irritation. "Logan, this is serious."

"I know." It's not every day you turn your back on those who care about you the most. "I finally got out of there, Mom, and I don't want to look back. The others, they don't understand. Joshua thinks I'm his son made over, and everyone's too paranoid to not listen to him." He's the leader too, obviously, but being afraid of another Kai Parker is not exactly irrational. All it would take is anyone making the comparison to get them to be afraid of me.

She seems exasperated. I'm trying hard to look at her point of view, but I can't help but be selfish.

"My being there just adds needless conflict to an already splintered coven. I'm on my own path now, and I want you and the others to accept that."

I don't want to hurt Megan, honestly. She thinks of me as her son, and even if I don't really consider her my real mom, she still acted in that role for a long time.

"I know that, honey. But it's… not that easy. A lot of people are angry, and they want someone to blame."

I frown, sitting down on the bed and pulling off my shoes. "Look, can you try to convince Joshua that it's okay? I've already removed ties to the coven, and once I figure out how to remove myself from the channeling link, then I'll be out of your hair permanently." Only way I know how to do that is to turn or die, and I don't want either option yet. "They clearly don't want me around, so let them vent until they get over it. You don't need me around to keep the coven afloat."

"But your-"

"Mom. Please. Just stop begging." I'm pleading at this point, metaphorically on my knees. "You once told me, a couple years back, about one your deepest regrets. Do you remember what that was?"

Megan lets out an exasperated breath escape. "Of course I do."

"Right. I'm doing what you failed to do. I can say with total conviction that I'm following my dreams, and that it's not some bullshit afterschool special." She laughs, a calming sound that makes me feel a little less lonely on the other side of the country. In reference to that, it almost hurts that I'm lying to her. "The ancestors have led me to this place for a reason, and I need to see what I can do to help."

"But they miss you. I miss you." She sounds so broken. Maybe I should make the other call?

"It's not like you'll never see me again." Shit. I almost regret saying it. I think I just tempted the plot. God damn it. "By that I mean that I'm sure you can visit, or maybe I can visit when things cool off, when the others realize me leaving gets me out of their hair. I mean, money might get in the way," hopefully not after tomorrow, "but that's why I should have a job tomorrow afternoon if things go right."

"That's wonderful, sweetheart. I look forward to that. Maybe for Thanksgiving?"

I think about the timeline. Did anything even happen on Thanksgiving in the first season? I'm not sure, but probably nothing important that would absolutely have to happen. The timetable might work for a visit from her.

I pause. "He's not actually trying to find me, is he?"

"No, I don't think so. He's too pre-occupied with empty-nest syndrome to do anything with his frustration." Right. The Parker twins left for college around the same time I left. I'm surprised there's any fuss from him at all about me.

"Anyway, I need to go. A little book's calling my name."

"Thank you for calling me back, son."

Talking with her has become more and more a chore as time goes on, as tensions mounted when I started getting old enough for people to hate me for my gift. Or lack of one, I guess. Whatever. Suppose it doesn't make any sense to blame a wandering three year old for draining someone's weird aphrodisiac spells, does it? I laugh heartily to myself, a little sad that no one is here to share the story with.